Jane Fade Merrick - Ashes Of The Phoenix

After a considerate look at their manager, the bass player, Nef, replied: “And what do you want in return?”

“I want to be part of the band!” the boy replied in such a firm tone that he no longer sounded like so. All the glances were now on him.

“And what instrument can you play?” asked the very tall Jess.

“It's not in my interest to play, I just want to see you at work, witness the creation of new pieces, follow the rehearsals, stay here, in short.”

A moment of endless silence followed those words.

“Well,” Nef concluded. “The band will evaluate your offer, and we’ll let you know.” Said that, all the members got up and left the room.

Before closing the door behind him, Nef turned towards the two of them and said “Jag, right? Come with me, I have to discuss some things with you. We'll leave your secretary here to bargain with the manager.”

At those words Fade jumped, but she had been prepared for that possibility, she knew what to do. The boy immediately stood up and ran to his idol like a trained puppy. The door closed behind them.

The girl brought her attention to the manager who waited silently; she stood up on her skates and reached her handing her a large file of papers that Jag had told her to deliver without commenting. The woman took them and began to examine them closely.

Meanwhile Jag followed Nef through the long hallways of the studios, speeding up from time to time so as not to be left behind. The other three members had vanished.

After going down a flight of steps they came to a small white door. The musician took a hold of the ornaments of his chain, he singled out a key from them, with which he opened the lock and entered.

Jag found himself in a sort of privé with soft lights, purple walls, and a large, white corner sofa with a coffee table in the same colour.

The musician walked behind a large counter: “What will you have? Wine, liquor, a cocktail?”

“I don’t drink things like that” the child sat with his hands resting on his knees. “Of course, you're just a brat” he said, pouring himself a whiskey.

“Don’t underestimate me” was the answer as the ice dropped into the glass.

The man sat on the opposite side of the couch, stirring his whiskey in a circular motion. “So you really are who I think you are?”

“Yes, I saw your ad on the internet and I came here in person to bring you what you asked for.”

“And that girl would be...?” The man investigated, trying to reveal as little as possible.

“She's the virgin you seek for your sect's 'party'.”

He choked on a sip of whiskey; that kid didn’t beat around the bush, so he decided to go straight to the point. “The ritual will take place within a month and I can’t afford to make mistakes. You were the only one who understood my encrypted message, and I still don’t know how you did it and how you reached me, but when you said the two code names in front of everyone I had to verify that it hadn’t been just a coincidence.”

“No coincidence,” the child insisted. “As to how I traced you, I have a widespread network of information, I can reach anyone.”

The man drank the whiskey in a gulp spitting an ice cube into the glass. “Well, then,” he concluded. “You can stay.”

“Your offer is really tempting,” the manager summarized as she lifted her eyes from the sheets. “We'll draw up a contract right away.”

Fade nodded, though totally unaware of what all those columns of numbers on the sheets meant. Shortly afterwards, Jag reached her triumphantly, “Fade! We can go visit the studios! Let’s go!” She barely had the time to pick up her coat that she was literally dragged away by the euphoric boy.

The two followed Nef, who proudly walked through the corridors of the studios, while explaining that he had them built on purpose. In the most intense periods — especially when they had to record a new album — he required all of the band members to be present 24 hours a day; therefore, he had set up rooms where everyone could sleep: returning to their own homes was almost forbidden, if not for entirely exceptional reasons. At that time, they were just recording their new album.

The man gave them a quick tour of the rehearsal room, the recording and mixing rooms, the little private cinema, the game room and the kitchen, and then the coffee room and bar-winery corner. They then climbed to the next floor using the elevator and crossed a long hallway on which many doors opened: the first had been smeared with spray cans, the second decorated with a lucky charm 'neko' cat hanging on it, the third was full of scratches, like the walls of a mental institution, and the last, carved in low-relief, depicted a great Mesopotamian demon. On all the doors hung on a 'Do not disturb' tag.

“This is my room...” Said Nef pulling out a magnetic card from the back pocket of his jeans and passing it into a scanner at the side of the door which opened with a dull noise.

The room stood out in front of the startled eyes of the two guests, one excited for a dream come true, the other because of what she saw inside. The place had a disturbing atmosphere; it was cloudy, with a curtain of smoke that hardly allowed to see the objects in the shade. When he turned the light on, everything became more distinct: between cactus plants, ethnic statues, plane models, full and empty bottles and cans left all over the place, hanging pendants, plasma lamps and a bear skin on the wall, the attention was drawn to overturned crosses, demoniac prints, tarots cards, tapestries with mythological figures, and on the unmade bed a bass and an ashtray full of cigarette butts. Above all there was an unbearable stench.

Fade moved aside, disgusted, leaving Jag alone in contemplation. The boy rushed inside and Nef approached the girl. Like a lady’s man, he leaned a hand on the wall and asked, “So, do you like Momuht?”

“Quite enough,” she replied, lying, shocked by his attitude.

“You look tall with those skates, how old are you?” the musician continued.

“It's none of your business” she replied, looking elsewhere.

“Hey! Don’t act like that; we need to get to know each other since you’ll live here!”

At those words she turned angrily. “What’s this story about? Jag is the one who wants to stay here, what do I have to do it? Jag!”

She cut off the conversation with the bass player and faced the real culprit of her problem; she reached the doorstep and called the child several times under the man's amused look. “Get out of this stinky room!” she shouted but he wasn’t listening to her, ecstatic in front of a witches Sabbath stamp on the wall.

“Jag!”

She wanted to go and grab him from the ear, but the stench was too nauseating and she just screamed from the door, so loud that the other members came out of their respective rooms to see what was happening and when their eyes fell on Nef at the same time in search of answers, he just shrugged and said: “The contract is signed!”

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