Page 26 of The Devil and His Sparrow

Sometimes I wondered who the truly evil ones were—demons like me who embraced acting out and sinning, or the humans who told girls like Marla that they weren’t worthy of acceptance.

Iyla cleared her throat when I reached her side and leaned in close to whisper, “That was really nice what you said to her. I think she needed to hear that.”

I glanced at Iyla then at Marla. “I shouldn’t have had to say it. She shouldn’t have been made to feel less beautiful because of some stupid burns. But humans are quick to judge and reject.”

She was quiet for a minute. Finally, she whispered, “I guess we are.”

The group made it to the sunroom, which was easily the size of a standard gymnasium. Ceiling high windows spanned every wall, looking onto the lush grass and playground outside. Tables littered with puzzles or activities were spread throughout the room. There was a large TV in one corner with some animated movie playing, and most of the kids were gathered over there. In the back of the room stood an old piano.

“There she is,” Iyla whispered.

A sudden sound of elation flooded her voice, which drew my gaze to her like a moth to a flame. I hadn’t known Iyla for long, but this was the first time I’d heard that melodic chime of true happiness leave her lips or seen that euphoric sparkle fill her eyes.

I followed her line of sight to see what brought out this rush of emotion and saw two girls sitting at a table, working on a puzzle. A dark-skinned little girl wearing a green pajama set with a matching toboggan chatted away with the other one, who’s attention bounced between the puzzle pieces and her friend.

I knew right away that the quieter girl was Iyla’s sister. They shared the same nose, jawline, and even the furrow in the little girl’s brow looked identical to the one Iyla had when she was working through something in her head.

Iyla started toward her sister, and I followed close behind. Both girls looked up at our approach.

“Iyla!” Gemma squealed in delight.

She went to get out of her chair, but Iyla beat her there, wrapping her arms around the younger girl’s shoulders—albeit, gently—and kissing her on top of the head.

“I’ve missed you,” Iyla said with a breathy laugh. She looked at the other girl. “Hi, Sienna. I love your green outfit.”

Sienna gave a toothy grin. “Thank you! My daddy just brought it for me.”

Iyla turned back to Gemma to clasp her little hands and squatted next to her chair. “How are you today?”

Gemma suddenly turned sheepish. “Okay. I only got sick once so far this morning.”

This seemed to make the bracket around Iyla’s mouth tighter, but it was so miniscule, I wasn’t sure if someone who didn’t know how to read human reactions would notice.

Gemma and Sienna seemed to finally notice me hovering close by. When they looked up at me, they gasped.

Iyla followed their line of sight to me, and her smile quickly turned into a frown. “Oh, please don’t tell me—”

“Zagan?” Sienna asked in astonishment. “From the band?”

“In the flesh,” I said, holding my hands out at my sides.

Iyla had said Gemma was eleven, which definitely wasn’t the target audience for our songs. Even the teen girls we ran into were pushing it. Though, were you ever too young for freedom, learning to love and accept yourself, embracing who you were and what you want from this life? I’d say not. And that was really what our songs were about.

“You know his band?” Iyla asked her sister warily.

“That’s our fault,” Arianna quickly explained with an apologetic smile as she wheeled over. Her friends were right behind her. “We like to listen to their music out in the open, and the band became a huge favorite for everyone here. Don’t worry, though. We don’t play the—” Her cheeks pinkened, and she glanced at me then back at Iyla. “The super explicit ones.”

I smirked. In other words, the ones about sex.

Sienna leaned close to Gemma. “What does explicit mean?”

Gemma shrugged. “Beats me.”

A tug came on my shirt. I looked down to find Marla beaming at me. “Do you think you could sing something for us since you’re here?”

A whole lot of eyes from kids, teens, and even the adults that had trickled in watched me with bright, eager eyes. It wasn’t even a question. How could I deny my fans a little private concert?

Without a word, I walked over to the piano. The crowd followed, gathering around on the floor and in chairs around the older instrument. Iyla stood further back, and I met her eyes between the wall of bodies around me. She looked skeptical. Whether she doubted my ability to play or my motive for giving these people what they wanted, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was seeing that look of doubt on her face lit a fire inside of me. I wanted her to see why she should never, ever doubt me.

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