Chapter Twenty-Two – Deacon
Ramona swung by a few days after we were in the studio with a flash drive. A tiny thing that contained various mixes of Priest and Angel singing together. Multiple songs done in multiple different ways. She couldn’t stay to listen to it with us, but she said she’d listened to it on her own and had some thoughts about how to proceed next. Our job was to give it a listen or two, come up with some notes, and go from there.
Our comeback, as Ramona kept calling it, was getting closer and closer with each passing day. It still didn’t feel right to do any of this without my brother, but I didn’t know if that feeling would ever go away.
I pulled out my laptop and plugged the flash drive into the side. I sat front and center, while Angel was to my right. Bishop was on my left, and Priest paced the area behind the couch, too full of anticipation to give it a rest.
“What if it’s terrible?” Priest was busy saying. “What if it’s shit?” When Pope was part of the band, he’d always joked about pushing him aside and taking the center of the stage, so to speak, but that’s all they’d been: jokes. Now, his debut as a lead singer was close.
“Hey,” Bishop said as he glanced over his shoulder at him, “you might be terrible, but Angel here is going to rock it.”
Priest tossed him a glare, while Angel coughed and squirmed, as if she was uncomfortable with the praise. I elected to ignore them all as I turned up my laptop’s volume and opened up the files.
The files were grouped by song, and each song had a few different versions. I clicked on Born to Die, 1 and let it play. The intro to one of our most popular songs started, heavy guitar aided with a hard beat, and then Priest’s voice started the first verse: “Every time I look at you, you choke me up inside. The things you make me do would make other people run and hide…”
Priest sang the whole first verse, the bridge, and the refrain, but when it came time for the second verse, Priest’s voice was notably absent. Angel’s took his place: “Every time I look at you, you make me want to die. The things I’ve done for you would make the devil himself shy…”
Angel did the whole second verse, but on the bridge to the refrain, Priest’s voice joined her. Together they sang, building up strength until the chorus, where they dueted the entire thing.The voices weren’t in perfect harmony—they hadn’t practiced the harmonizing notes or anything, but it still sounded way better than I thought.
I hadn’t really listened much at the studio. I didn’t see why I was forced to go. I didn’t give a shit. And watching Priest moon over Angel while they recorded wasn’t my idea of fun. Maybe that was why, as I listened, I was struck with awe.
These two… they really did sound good together. It reminded me of Skillet . Angel definitely couldn’t go too high, but her voice was strong, and even when she sang behind Priest, she gave the song something extra. More oomph.
After the first rendition of Born to Die was done, I hit the pause button before it automatically played the next version. Priest had stopped pacing, standing behind me as he whispered, “Holy shit. That was… that was fucking amazing, wasn’t it? Tell me I’m not the only one who really liked that.”
No one else said a word, and I didn’t think it was because everyone was debating on how to let Priest down. No, if I had to guess, I’d say everyone was quiet simply because they were speechless.
That one song? Blew the original out of the water. It wasn’t the same sound, not as hard as the song had been with Pope, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the new sound would invite more listeners, entice more people to become fans and overlook the negative press.
“I really liked it,” Bishop said. “But maybe before we talk more, we should listen to them all.” On my other side, Angel was nodding along with him, as if she agreed.
So I hit play and let my laptop go from song to song, version to version. It played them all in a row, and we were frozen, motionless as we did nothing but listen.
Each song had the same versions. Like the first, where Priest and Angel split verses and came together on the second refrain. Then there were versions where Priest did most of the singing, and Angel only sang the refrains with him, highlighting certain words. There were versions where the first verse was sung by Angel instead of Priest.
Basically, any which way you could think to combine their voices or have them each sing certain roles and parts, this flash drive had it all. Ramona must’ve had the sound guys working overtime to get all this done so fast.
Once we’d listened to the whole thing, Priest asked, “Well? Thoughts, because I just have the main one, which you all heard before.” To Angel, he said, “You’re going to bring us to the next level. Never thought I’d think Black Sacrament would sound good with a woman, but fuck, Angel, your voice is like honey.”
I glanced at her, thinking that Priest was laying it on a little thick, and I saw that Angel had started to blush.
Oh, good. Seemed she got over being upset at Priest, if that blushing was any indication.
I… didn’t know why the thought bothered me so much.
“I don’t like agreeing with Priest—” Bishop paused, most likely so Priest could glare at him. “—but he’s right. It’s a different sound altogether, but if anything, I think the songs are catchier, if that makes sense? Having two contrasting voices really makes me want to sit back and just keep listening.”
My mouth remained shut. I agreed with them, but I didn’t want to admit it. I thought Black Sacrament would fall apart without Pope. Until Ramona called and had us move back in here, I’d thought we were pretty much done—and when she’d said we would have a new member, another singer, a girl , I’d all but thrown in the towel.
Maybe a part of me was upset at knowing we might actually pull this off. Maybe my loyalty to my brother wanted us to crash and burn and not succeed.
Bishop and Priest were going on about their favorites, but I stayed quiet. I thought Angel would be listening to them, but instead she stared at me and asked, “What do you think, Deacon?”
I met her blue eyes, hating the way something in me twisted when we locked stares. There were so many things I could’ve said, so many things I wanted to say, but as I gazed into her eyes, as I remembered how she’d blushed for Priest and how Bishop seemed to like her more than he let on…
I didn’t know. It was just too much. Everything was too much.
Too much change, too much of a different sound, too much pressure. Too much all at once and no one else seemed to feel it. Even though I was surrounded by three other people, I’d never felt more alone—and that was why I shook my head, stood up, and said, “I need a minute.” And then I walked away, down the hall and into my room, where I closed the door to separate myself from them.
This wasn’t Black Sacrament. This wasn’t our band. This was… something else.
I paced the length of my room, circling my drumming set and pacing the areas on the sides of my bed. I scowled to myself, my mood sour. Right when I thought I’d gotten used to how different everything was, how different everything would become once we actually started recording and touring with Angel, life took a swing at me and knocked me right back down.
I stopped pacing near my bed, and I pulled out my phone from my back pocket and went to my brother’s contact info. I wanted to call him. I hadn’t spoken to him in a while, not since this whole Angel business.
The last time I’d spoken to him, he’d wanted me to basically beg Ramona to help him get back in the label’s good graces. It wasn’t our idea to kick him out. That was the record label, trying to save face, and Ramona working with them while trying to manage the remnants of Black Sacrament.
Ramona wouldn’t answer his calls or his texts. She’d basically ghosted him, leaving him to fend for himself when it came to the media. I’d tried, for a while, but eventually it dawned on me that it was like trying to knock over a brick wall with nothing but my hands: impossible.
I almost texted Pope—almost. The only thing that stopped me was the knock on my door. I was seconds from saying something along the lines of Go away , but whoever it was decided to walk in anyway. When I saw who it was, I frowned and tucked my phone into my pocket.
Of course, it was the one person I didn’t want to talk to right now, the one person I didn’t want to see… the one girl who, as far as I knew, never stepped foot in my room before today.
Angel walked in, gently closing the door behind her as her eyes flicked around the room to study it. The dark walls, painted such a dark gray they might as well have been black. The drumming set that was the same setup as my stage set. The unmade bed with black and gray sheets.
Yeah, it was a lot of dark colors, okay? I was a simple guy.
Angel seemed unaffected by my scowl, because she eventually landed her gaze on me and walked closer. She stopped when she stood two feet in front of me, holding her arms at her sides awkwardly. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice light.
Turning my back to her, I folded my arms over my chest and huffed, “Yeah, I just needed a minute, so why don’t you go running back to the others and keep talking about how much you all love the demos.” I realized I sounded upset, but that’s kind of because I was.
This was new territory, and I didn’t know how to best proceed. The routine I’d gotten used to in the last five years was shot to hell the moment Pope was forced out. The only reason we were still here was because we had a contract with the studio. We owed them one more album. This rebrand was all Ramona’s idea, to get things going again, to give us a way to keep going after that one album.
It sounded like Angel walked over to my bed, because I heard the telltale signs of the headboard creaking. I glanced over my shoulder, finding that she’d sat at the base, on the small area where the sheets weren’t so crumpled. Her legs dangled off the side. “It must be hard for you,” she said, “doing all this without your brother.”
I couldn’t look at her for too long. “You have no fucking idea,” I muttered. “It’s like they don’t give a shit about him anymore. Priest and Bishop are happy to move on with you, to try new things, but I—” I stopped myself.
My thoughts must’ve been written on my face, because Angel whispered, “You don’t. You want to walk away, don’t you?” The girl was too observant for her own good.
I heaved a sigh. “We’re contracted for one more album. One more. That’s it. Then there’s no need for Black Sacrament.”
“I didn’t know that.” Angel fiddled with her hands in her lap. “No one told me that before. Ramona said—”
“Ramona sugarcoated things for you, Angel,” I told her as I strolled over to her. I stood directly before her, much taller than her since she still sat on my bed. “You’re not the only one contracted for one more album. After that… I’m done.” The words felt final, now that they’d been said aloud. This whole time, I’d never spoken them out loud once.
Angel didn’t try to change my mind. All she said was, “Do the others know?”
My gaze fell to the floor between us. “No, they don’t, and I’d rather you not say anything to them.”
“I won’t.” She slipped off the bed, getting to her own two feet. She stood less than six inches away now—way too close, really—but when I lifted my gaze off the floor and brought it to her face, I found I couldn’t move.
She paralyzed me, and it wasn’t so terrible a sensation.
Those big, blue eyes of hers really were pretty. Such a crisp, clean blue hue, warm and welcoming. It took everything in me to not lean closer to her. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you,” she whispered. “But I understand.” She let out a tiny chuckle, which caused me to furrow my brow. “I think I understand now why you’re always in a bad mood. I guess I never really got how much it all bothered you. I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it again: I don’t want to take your brother’s place.”
In reality, she wasn’t the one taking my brother’s place; Priest was, and then she was taking his place. But that was too convoluted.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just said, “Thanks.” It was about the only word I could get out, maybe because of those damned blue eyes and how close they were to me. She was eight or so inches shorter than me, the perfect height to…
To what? Let’s just say it was a good thing my mind trailed off after that, because whatever thought I may have had after that wouldn’t have been a good one. And by good, I meant appropriate.
She smiled up at me, and something in my gut hardened. I could feel my heart start to beat a little faster, and I struggled with the initial reaction while trying to remain stone-faced.
“Good,” she said. “Now let’s go back out there and do what we have to do.” Angel still wore a smile, even as she slipped her hand into mine. Her hand was small but soft, and I had to swallow the moment she pulled me toward the door. She was totally unbothered holding my hand.
I wished I could say the same, but I couldn’t. Her hand in mine… it was a lot nicer than I’d ever admit out loud.
Angel obviously had a thing for Priest, plus Bishop liked her. I couldn’t go liking her, too. Things were already complicated enough, we didn’t need to all be involved in a love triangle. Or would it be a square, since there were four of us?
No. Not a triangle or a square. More like an arrow… with every line connected to Angel.