Epilogue
Eight Months Later
Touring during the winter was stupid. Malek knew this for a fact.
The van was cold, the gas stations were cold, and sleeping next to someone who accidentally spread his wings in his sleep and knocked away all the blankets was especially cold.
But apparently Malek never learned from the one tour All Trades had gone on during the coldest winter on record.
They’d spent more time huddling under blankets and drinking cocoa than actually playing gigs.
But when Jocasta asked the group to track down a series of strange Yeti attacks in British Columbia, and the latest riddle from the Sphinx pointed them toward the ski hills to find the next item tied to Caspar’s family, Malek couldn’t resist. Being in love—and being in a band—was about compromise.
William had never been to B.C., and Natasha hadn’t been on a road trip that lasted longer than the three days they’d spent together.
So in spite of his numb fingers, the tour was a good decision.
“Five minutes,” the stage hand called.
Malek bounced on his toes and cracked his knuckles, passing his mic from hand to hand.
Katja wandered behind him, doing her vocal exercises in English and French.
Natasha strummed her bass, while William stretched his hands and arms to prepare for the drums. Ultima was nowhere to be seen, but she was most likely practicing scales on her keyboard while texting Jocasta.
Caspar worked on bandaging his calluses from playing the guitar so much.
When he placed his fingers back over the strings, he seemed to hiss in pain.
“Hey,” Malek said, putting a hand on his back. “How are you doing?”
“Um… fine. Nervous.”
“It’s not the first time we’ve played.”
“But it’s a big venue.”
“True,” Malek said, nodding sagely. It wasn’t the largest crowd he’d ever played, but it was easily the largest for them as a band.
Malek peeked behind the curtain and saw the crowd moving as one, having already been warmed up by the opening band.
Twigs’s face, along with Cecil’s, stood out in the front row.
When Twigs gave him a wolf whistle, Malek smiled and disappeared behind the curtain again.
“A lot of people?” Caspar asked, biting his lip.
“Yes. But you can do this. You just need to relax. Will your fingers be okay?”
Caspar nodded, waving the concern away. He traced his fingers over the chords, still biting his lip. “What if I forget?”
“You won’t forget.”
“But if I do?” Caspar gazed up at Malek, his brows furrowed in concern. “I’m not as good as everyone else.”
“Nonsense.” Malek gestured to everyone in the band. “You’re part of a team. We have you. Even if you do forget, just use your wings. That’s always a crowd pleaser.”
Caspar laughed, which seemed to be all he needed. When the stage hand announced they had one minute, they all moved in for their huddle. They had to get down on their knees to be at eye level, but it was worth it.
“We’re all in this together,” Malek said. “All for one, and one for all. To The Forgotten Kings.”
“The Forgotten Kings!” Everyone echoed before breaking away from the huddle to take their places.
The stage hand pulled back the curtain to announce their band name.
Suddenly, Malek was no longer cold. The stage was something he knew so well, but playing in The Forgotten Kings was different than playing in All Trades.
That band was fast and punk, like Twigs had said.
Now they were a mess of sound and vision, a complete synesthetic experience.
Their first album, In Search of Lost Objects, was a collection of adventure songs about their time hunting for Malek’s items and fighting Anthony’s reign.
Malek was still thinking of the name for the next one, but he had a feeling that this adventure hunting down the lost trinkets of the El-Mohtar family, along with their mission to find Yetis in B.C.
, would give them more than enough material.
“Contrary to popular belief,” the stage hand announced, “the indie music scene isn’t dead at all—it’s only changing form. So give it up for The Forgotten Kings!”
Malek ran out onto centre stage. Katja grabbed a mic stand close to stage left, where her trumpet waited for the few songs that needed her assistance.
Natasha stood behind her, with William behind them at the drums. Ultima stood near Caspar with her keyboard stand, and Caspar was right next to Malek.
“Hello, British Columbia!” Malek called into the mic. “Are you ready for a good show?”
The crowd cheered. Malek motioned for more, and the response swelled in the moments that followed. With a smile, he counted down to their first song. The music started with a roar.
The rest of the night faded into a dream come true.
END