O’Bryan’s Music Emporium was certainly impressive. Guitars, fiddles and mandolins lined the walls, and expensive drum kits and keyboards filled the floors. O’Brian and O’Brien were childhood friends of O’Bryan, and had recommended the place, a quaint little shop in a suburb of Atlanta.
Rory pulled a Gibson off the wall and began to strum a few notes of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ before receiving a dirty look from O’Bryan. Rory then turned his attention to me, still holding the expensive guitar.
“So no hard feelings, right” he said, picking the guitar quietly.
“None,” I muttered. In reality, I still felt more lost and angry than after the first time I saw Donny Darko.
Rory must have sensed my confusion. “It’s simple,” he said flatly, putting the guitar back up on the wall. “In order to not be bound by the constraints of humanity, I first had to be killed. Regrettably, I had to pretend to be a member of the Sweeney family to trick you into doing it. Otherwise, would you have?”
“Probably not.”
“Exactly. You would have never killed me willingly. I am, after all, The Benefactor, The Lord of the Earth, He Who Laid the Foundation of the Universe, He Who Vanquishes Evil But Also Vanquishes Good If He Wants To, He Who Can Slow Roast A Rotisserie Chicken In Under Four Minutes, He Who Is Really Good At Bowling Left Handed, He Who Recently Adopted A Stray Cat Named-“
“Okay,” I interrupted. “I get it.”
It was certainly true that Rory had become very powerful ever since being freed from the chest. On one occasion, he had assumed the form of the beast with one hundred arms and twenty mouths so that he could win a hot-dog eating contest handily.
“Why exactly was it necessary for you to become not of this world?” I enquired, watching as Rory picked up an expensive fiddle from the wall. Elsewhere, O’Brian, O’Brien and O’Bryan were arguing over the proper way to play ‘Philadelphia Freedom’ on keyboard.
“There is somewhere that I need to go. Somewhere mortals cannot go whilst they are still alive.” He strummed a few more notes on the fiddle. The music was strangely soothing.
Clearly attuned to the sound of Rory’s fiddle playing, O’Bryan walked over. “That’s one of our finest models,” he said, shrewdly trying to make a sale.
“It certainly is nice,” replied Rory, “but I’m going to need something a little nicer.”
He eyed O’Bryan. “Money is no object.”
O’Bryan then preceded to lead myself, Rory, and the others to the back of the store. A nondescript, wooden door was situated behind a large drum set, almost impossible to see from the front of the store. Behind the door was revealed not a room cluttered with instruments, or some kind of stock room, but simply an empty room save for one fiddle sitting on a pedestal in the center of the space. The instrument was made entirely of gold, and was truly a beautiful piece to behold.
Rory picked up the fiddle, examining it. It was covered in runes, but then again, so was pretty much every other object I’d been dealing with lately. Goddamn runes, I thought. Why wasn’t I taught those in kindergarten?
Rory then began to lead us in a masterful, foot-stomping rendition of ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’. I found myself square dancing with O’Brian/Brien/Bryan, the latter of which quickly proving himself to be an accomplished dancer. The sweet melodies pouring from the fiddle were truly ethereal, and I found myself wishing that the music would never stop. When it finally did, Rory took me aside.
“The devil has something that belongs to me, Abdul-Mannan,” he whispered. “I will use this golden fiddle to get it back.”
I chose my next words carefully. “Huh?”
“I will use my newfound immortality to go to the devil in Hell, and challenge him to see who can play the better version of ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’. If I am victorious, he will give me back what he took from me many years ago.”
“Well then,” I said, putting on a pair of sunglasses, “It looks like you’re gonna have to play the hell out of that fiddle.”
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