They shot the video on a private beach, under the muted moonlight. The moon appeared tired, like it had showed up to work but was doing the bare minimum. Brisa danced around a bonfire in a white sheer dress. She was mesmerizing. A shot of her in the sea along with shots of her in the booth at the studio would round out the video. They finished shooting at midnight and partied until 2:55. Tragedy struck at 3:01, a minute after the veil between the spirit world and the physical lifted. Cole Green, Lyric Minister’s business partner, got into difficulty while swimming and drowned. Lyric Minister, on Brisa’s instructions, something they had discussed from earlier in the day, had put a potion in his drink before he went for a final swim with the model he had taken to the shoot. He hadn’t stood a chance when the sea pulled him in with wavy hands, pulling him away from the screaming model, her screams riding the nippy early morning air into the ears of the fifty-two people present. By the time the sea gave him back, it had kept what it wanted. Cole’s life. As Brisa had told a stunned Lyric Minister, a sacrifice would be needed at various junctures, to keep their end of the contract with the dark ones. And it always had to be someone that was close to him in some capacity. The police came in thirty minutes. They took statements and the body.
