Zag is an inept demon who is given one last chance to harvest a soul. He just wants to be left alone, but failure means he can never leave hell again, and he really hates the climate.
When Putrid Blood Clot concluded its set with a disturbingly apocalyptic version of Buddy Holly's 'Everyday', the audience burst into a frenzied appreciative ovation. Dara embraced Zag and gave him a heartfelt hug. The band headed back to Zane's table.
Bobo slapped the demon enthusiastically on the back, "That was beyond great, Zag! They fuckin' loved us!"
Jim chimed in, "I haven 't had that much fun in forever."
Zag smiled bashfully, "Me neither, I really like singing."
Dara was curious, "Are you in a band?"
"No, they don't have a lot of musicians where I'm from."
Dara looked confused, "They don't have a lot of musicians in Portland? That doesn't seem right."
Zag thought quickly, "I'm new to Portland, I'm an immigrant."
"Where from?" Bobo asked.
"Helviti, it's near Sweden"
"Cool, it sounds like Hell, perfect for this venue," Jim replied, "and they don't have a lot of musicians?"
"It's a religious thing, they only allow bagpipes and theremin," he glanced at Bobo, "and drums, of course."
Bobo smiled and banged out a flourish on the tabletop, "Weird, but weird is cool."
The owner of the club, Dagmar, walked up to the table.
"Great set! You guys aren't near as awful as I thought. I love your new singer, great look fella."
"Thank you." Zag replied.
Dagmar turned toward Zane, "Your brother is still passed out in my office, please get him out of there before he pukes on my sofa."
"Half-brother. Sure, we'll take him home. Give me a hand, Zag, help me get him to the car."
"Sure," the demon addressed the band members, "thank you all, that was better than cotton candy."
Dara gave Zag a kiss on his cheek, "No, thank you. Anytime you want to jam with us, you got yourself an open invitation," she turned to Zane, "if you accidentally drop Atticus off a cliff on the way home, we will understand and mourn appropriately."
Zane laughed, "That son of a bitch would probably survive and beat the shit out of me. He's already gonna be pissed enough when he finds out someone sang in his place."
"If you call what he does singing," Bobo offered, "Fuck him and his instruments. I'm done with that prick." The other band members nodded in assent.
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It took a fair amount of energy to carry Atticus' limp body up to his room and deposit it on his bed. He drooled on his sheets and intermittently mumbled out strings of profanities. Zag and Zane left him there and headed back to the kitchen to relive the night and stuff their faces with candy and cold pizza. Laughter could be heard echoing through the halls of the house till early in the morning when the two new friends finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a much needed sleep.
