Power Trio

“Thank you all for making yourselves available,” Sion says, as the elevator rises high above the West Hill rooftops. “We have the potential to change the course of history today. I know that isn’t the majority opinion. But while you’re here, I request that each of you try, as hard as possible, to believe. Can you do that for me?”

The other members of Legendary share an unspoken moment. “We can do that for you, Sion,” Evan says.

Thekla might feel more comfortable if she could treat this like a joke, but neither Evan nor Kell are laughing.

The elevator drops them off on a sterile office level, and Sion takes them past glass-walled conference rooms opened out onto the skyline, all empty. “Bro, where the fuck are we?” Kell whispers.

They turn down a hallway lined with relic guitars behind glass, each beneath a photo of their players. Hendrix, Skofeld, Anttonen’s guitar that he busted open on MTV in ‘96. These have to be replicas. At the far end stands an unassuming door painted the same corporate white as the wall it’s on, with a black box stuck to the wall next to it. Sion taps his slim wallet against the box, and with a beep, the door unlocks.

Sion pulls it open into an unadorned rehearsal studio of black foam and varnished wood. Neatly managed cables snake along the edge of the room’s cream-colored carpet and dart into stacked speakers and electronics.

“Thekla, there’s you.” Sion points to a Devontry amp, a newer, cleaner version of the one she always favors in their practice space. “Evan, here’s your Titania.”

“Shit, Sion,” Kell examines the drum kit set up on a raised platform. “These are all Webbers. This is a ritzy fucking room. What are we doing in the Smoke Shed?”

“The Shed is centralized and alive,” Sion says. “This place is sterile. Not a crèche for creativity. We are here for science. Also, we’re only guests.”

“Whose?” Thekla asks.

“Someone I trust not to ask questions.”

“Is that part of the science?” Evan points at the center of the room, where a six-pack of Mordsteel lagers and an unplugged desk lamp sit on the floor.

“Yes.” Sion clicks his aluminum pedalboard case open. “We’ll be playing Trapped Like Rats.” He slings his prelate onto his slim chest. “Perform as though you were standing before an audience on the stage. It’s imperative. Think of Glorie’s and of Ringside. Capture that.”

“Question for you,” Thekla says. “If this song is magic, why didn’t it work at Ringside?”

“To ensure no inadvertent blackouts, I changed my part at Ringside,” Sion says. “I tweaked it even further to prevent additional phenomena after it temporarily fried your microphone.”

“Sion.” Thekla rubs her temples. “The cable was loose.”

“This is why we’ve gathered,” Sion says. “To settle it.”

“And if nothing happens?” Thekla asks. “Do we just come back here every month until they knock the building down?”

“You know me, Thekla,” Sion says. “I am your friend.”

“You are, but—”

“And I am not an unreasonable person. I’m acerbic, at times, and sybaritic, and lately I admit I have been sleep-deprived thinking about this task. I am not unreasonable. I promise you this: focus hard, take part, and if we perform at the same level we did at Glorie’s, without result, this will be the first and last day you join me here.”

Thekla looks at her boyfriend, who nods, and at her girlfriend, who sticks her thumb up encouragingly. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay. Then link up your pedal chain and tune your guitar, if you please.” Sion runs the adapter for his pedalboard across the room and plugs it into a power strip tucked against the wall. “The incantation we are attempting to cast today, as I understand it and practiced it at Glorie’s, has three parts. The first is the draw. This was the blackout we plunged Glorie’s into. Power may be converted, even amplified, but it has to exist first, in an easily accessed form. The oral records talk of spells being performed before great bonfires and snuffing them out completely.”

“That’s metal,” Kell says.

“Indeed. Part two, the utterance. The spell does not affect its caster; this is, apparently, an immutable law of fairfolk magic. Its power must pass on to a vessel. This was Evan at Glorie’s.”

“I remember,” Evan says. “It’s like it happened to me yesterday. It’s strangely clear.” He meets Thekla’s askew look and shrugs. “It’s true.”

“To be a vessel is a rather memorable moment. Hence the availability of the literature. Apologies, Evan. Part three is the effect. I admit I have a very limited idea of what this spell’s effect is.”

“You were trying to cast a spell at our concert and you don’t even know what it does?” Thekla says.

“It does nothing,” Sion says. “I’m crazy, remember?”

“Well, yes.” She frowns. “But that’s still irresponsible.”

“Since we only have that occurrence, I’m going to try the same thing again, with apologies once more to Evan.”

“No worries,” Evan says, worriedly.

“What’s the lamp and the beer for?” Kell asks.

“For later,” Sion says. “Now then. I trust we’re tuned up and turned on? Let’s begin.” He takes a deep, swelling breath. Thekla has never seen him look so uneasy.

“Okay, kids.” Kell sits uneasily on her drum throne and counts in the song’s outre rhythm. “One two one two one two three…”

* * *

Sion shakes his head. “Again.”

“Dude.” Thekla shakes her wrist out. “What happened to reasonable, Sion?”

“We need to focus,” Sion says. “We need to treat this like Glorie’s, but we keep making mistakes. Evan, you were dragging during the third interlude. And Thekla, you know as well as I do that’s not the chord you play on the breakdown.”

“What kind of goofy magic relies on the proper chord in the breakdown, man?” Kell says. “This is what. The eighth time?”

“If we need to take a break we can,” Sion says evenly. “If you need coffee, or food, I can send for it.”

Kell sighs, runs her hand through her hair. Her forehead is beaded with sweat. “No, dude. It’s fine. Let’s just run it again. Thek, do you have a spare hair tie?”

“We need to remember. We need to be there.” Sion plants his fist in his palm as Kell binds her hair back. “The spell will weave itself if we let it. I know you felt it when we performed.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thekla snaps. “I felt great. I felt like I was making music for people. Not drilling some shit into the wall in a Midtown skyscraper.”

“I think I know what he’s talking about,” Evan says. “It was like… like the song was playing itself, and I was just the antenna it was using.”

Thekla remembers the way the world narrowed. Well, of course it did. It’s a song that requires a shit ton of focus. Nothing magical about that.

“Exactly.” Sion snaps his fingers at Evan, excited. “Remember how it felt. Remember the force you exerted. When we perform for people, we want them to change. To surrender their consciousness to something older and truer than words. Think of doing that to the world. Think of how you want to change the world.”

“The Vail,” Kell says. “I want to go to the Vail. Do I think of the Vail?”

Sion nods. “It’s worth a try. Evan?”

“I don’t know. I think…” Evan twists his face in thought. “I think I want us all to be completely untouchable. Safe. Like on a private island or a big castle.”

“Good. Good.” Sion looks at Thekla.

“I want to go home and take a long bath,” Thekla says, but she knows what she really wants, even if she’s not willing to admit it to Sion.

Evan is satisfied with what the world gives him. It’s why he’s such a source of strength. He’s their rock. Thekla wants to be famous and adored, sure, but everyone wants to be famous and adored, at least a little.

But Kell. Kell has a dream, and once she plays the Vail, she’s going to have another one. Kell always looks to the horizon, and she turns your head toward it as well.

Thekla’s never really believed in the great men of history, never worshipped at the feet of the guitar gods or striven to replicate them. But Kell makes her believe. What Thekla wants is for the world to see Kell like she sees Kell.

“Then picture a rubber ducky,” Sion says testily. “But picture something.”

“Fine. I will stare at your foam wall and picture something.”

“Speaking of that.” Sion’s pulled a remote from somewhere in this cell phone store of a rehearsal room. He hits a button, and a screen descends from the north wall.

A projector flips on above the door to the rehearsal room, and a vivid image appears. The lip of a stage, looking out onto a sun-drenched field, where a crowd of thousands has gathered. Cheers pipe in over the room’s PA.

Thekla purses her lips. “Come on.”

Kell chuckles. “Fuck it, man. Why not.”

“Remember it, people!” Sion calls, turning the sound on the crowd up. “And play it!”