Sabbas has a minion!

Saul the Marsh Monster

Leland was laying with his feet over the back of the couch, his head hanging off the threadbare cushion. His long dark hair barely brushed the floor and his eyes were closed peacefully, despite all the blood that must be rushing to his head. I had always been jealous of his natural beauty; it felt a little weird to call another man beautiful, but he was. He had long, slender legs and his button-down shirts always fit him just the right way. A little tension here, a button undone there. There was an understated grace to his features, something ephemeral and soulful, that I never saw anywhere else. Anywhere except Saul.

Behind me I could almost feel Lorin shrug, her disinterest a distinct taste on the stale air. "Dunno. As long as he shows up and doesn't suck, I don't care." I could hear the faint pinging of her guitar strings tightening as she obsessively tuned and retuned her instrument. She could always be counted on for two things: 1, that both her guitar and her voice would be pitch-perfect, and 2, she wouldn't give a shit about anything else. The only person she was even remotely interested in pleasing, aside from herself, was Rob. In typical front-man style, he had everyone twisted around his finger, myself included. It was just hard not to like the guy, even when he flaked on practice or kicked the drummer out.

I stretched, turning sideways in my chair so that it cradled me, my feet hanging idly over an arm. In my opinion, this whole thing was bullshit. We didn't need a new drummer: what we needed was Saul back. Yeah, he rubbed people the wrong way and got in more than his share of fights, but if you knew the man you'd understand. He was gold, pure gold. I didn't understand how Rob couldn't see that, and how Leland didn't fight harder; Saul was his brother, after all. It felt like the whole thing had happened before anyone could say anything and now no one wanted to. Except me, of course. I had plenty to say, I just didn't know how to say it.

And who would listen to me, really? I was just Sabbas, skinny techie-turned-bassist. I couldn't stand up to Rob, with his big personality and even bigger voice. Sometimes, in my head, I justified it by thinking of it terms of pure color: if Leland was a color, he would be a deep, calming green. Who can get in a fight with dark green? Nobody. Rob would be a bright orange-gold, something eyecatching and extravagant; Lorin would be dark purple, sort of sexy but essentially self-interested. And I, I would be moth colors. I'd be pale grey, light brown, any other washed out thing you can think of. When moth colors get in a fight with orange-gold, who wins?

My train of thought was broken by Rob bursting through the garage door with his look on his face like he was about to blow all our puny minds. I was grumpy already, so I vowed to myself that no matter what he said, I wasn't going to be excited or impressed. At all. Leland pulled himself back into a sitting position, resting his head against the back of the couch as it cleared. When he was sure he had all our attention, Rob stepped aside with a flourish and brought his hands up next to him like that woman on the shopping channel.

In my defense, I vowed not to be impressed if he said anything: he didn't have to. Next to him, still framed by the door, was a tall, thin woman who was definitely not named Alan. I still remember her the way I saw her then: backlit, her skin so pale it was almost macabre. She had high cheekbones and the delicate limbs of a bird pretending to be human; except, her arms were muscular like someone who worked out regularly. It was a jarring contrast, but not as jarring as her hair. There were tiny glittering flecks of light thrown around the room by the crystal prisms that were growing out of her scalp like a crown. She had this look on her face, this remoteness that made me shiver. If she had been a color it would have been the white-blue of frozen skin; in fact, I was pretty sure that if you tried to touch her she'd give you frostbite.

"Who the fuck is that?" It was out of my mouth before I'd realized it and there was no taking it back. I saw Leland's shoulder twitch in surprise and Rob rolled his eyes. The woman's face didn't change at all, but as she levelled her pale gaze at me a chill rolled down my spine.

Rob's smile reasserted itself and he put a hand on her bare shoulder, familiarly. I noticed then that she was pretty much wearing just an old silvery blue slip and thigh-high boots; who wears stuff like that? The girls that went to our shows dressed like that wanted to go home with somebody, but it was pretty clear this was different.

"This is Allenia, or Allen. She's our new drummer." Oh, so she was named Alan, just with a different intonation. Thanks for the warning, Rob. "That's Lorin, she's our secondary singer and guitarist, and that's Leland, lead guitar. The rude one is Sabbas. Don't mind him, he's a bassist." Rob smirked at me, his perfect teeth glinting unpleasantly; sort of like a toothpaste ad, with the overdone sparkle.

Leland and Lorin approached to exchange pleasantries but I couldn't bring myself to. "Gonna go smoke, back later." I was out the backdoor and across the street before I remembered that I didn't smoke. It had seemed like a good excuse, even if it wasn't very subtle. I knew I was acting like a petulant child, but seriously, she was some crazy ice queen and I didn't want anything do with her. I wanted Saul, with his loud, friendly laugh and offensive humor. I wanted Leland, Saul and I to hang out like we used to, just the three of us without any of the awkwardness that had grown up between us.

I turned my back to the garage-studio, pretending to smoke; it felt ridiculous. Which it was. I was ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous. With a sigh, I dropped my imaginary cigarette and ground it into the pavement with my shoe. Exhaling the last of the imaginary smoke from my lungs, I turned just in time to see Allen, or Allenia or whatever, leaving the garage, alone. Now was my chance: I'd go over and explain. I might even apologize, who knew. But she walked fast, almost gone from sight by the time I rounded the corner.

So, I followed her.