Chapter 6
Advised by Princess Nuala sheltered in the headquarters of the B.P.R.D., a dozen of human agents were installed in specific points at the surroundings of the facility, keeping watch on every access. Her Highness had warned them it was a matter of time until her brother the Prince found her location in search of the last piece of the Elven crown and the map to find the Golden Army. Another handful of agents were around and inside the Grand Theater in the heart of New York. Today they'd hunt him down. It was past 7 pm. Only an hour before the theater direction had called for a conference press announcing the last minute canceling of Loreto Clair's concert for that evening, arguing health issues of the singer. The agency made sure the video was showed on all big screens in Manhattan. The update did not discourage fans who were already gathering before the theater's main entrance chanting one of her songs. They held placards in the air, professing their love for the singer and full of wishes of good health and recovering.
Meanwhile, in the theater, Loreto peaked through the window shields and had a look at the street from her dressing room on the sixth floor. She was surrounded. Her audience gathered outside sung Your Never And My Forever as the B.P.R.D. agents took possession of the building. All staff, cast and direction employees had been evacuated. The ideal trap. The theater had become a fortress, an island in the middle of the metropolis ignorant of the secret operation about to take place. The colossal red demon they called Hellboy arrived at her dressing room accompanied by the girl with short hair and friendly gaze. They assured her not to fear, for everything would be under control. The stab in her stomach manifested itself with such might as to bend her over. The girl hastened her way to catch her. Loreto felt the gag effect water her mouth with sour saliva and clouded her eyes with tears. She got rid of the girl's grip, ran to the bathroom and convulsed on the toilet, letting out all the vomit. She convinced herself the anxiety provoked it due to such a unique and risky maneuver about to take place, since she had never taken part in something remotely similar. For days she could not consume a full meal, so it wasn't something merely digestive. She stood up with effort and immediately a stab in her forehead cracked her skull in two. She leaned on the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She shook off dread as soon as she acknowledged herself in the reflection. Pale dry skin, marked blue eye rings, cheekbones sticking out, lifeless gaze and rests of blood on her lips and at the corners of her mouth. Skeptical, she checked in disgust the content of her own vomit in the toilet. Blood and yellow bile of an empty stomach. She hyperventilated. She washed her mouth and drank many sips of water from the tap, trying to rinse the bitter bile taste.
"Nuada is in the surroundings, in positions," Loreto heard the girl say from the other side of the bathroom door.
Nuada? That's no name for a terrorist, she thought for herself. She went out to the dressing room and with no words both agents left her alone. In silence they pointed at the open door and to the aisle. Her acting skills left a lot to be desired. Nevertheless, her role was to pretend to pass out in the aisle as the perfect bait for the terrorist. Like a well-rehearsed choreography, all agents on the floor retreated from her field of vision, disappearing behind doors and aisles, leaving her alone. Chilling silence reigned the length of the floor. From the outside, the weak chants of her fans and the busy traffic of central New York reached her ears. The pit of her stomach shrunk in anxiety. An adrenaline different from the one she felt seconds before entering the stage or performing before cameras shrouded her like a bad omen. It was a visceral terror that froze her. Suddenly, her head began floating above the theater as if she flew at hundreds of kilometers above the ground. She barely walked towards the aisle leaning on the wall. A sudden coldness made her teeth rattle. Frozen hands and feet. She looked at both extremes of the aisle and found it deserted under the flat and cold halogen light. In the blink of an eye, everything went black. Artificial light still blinded her retinas, yet the world remained under shadows. Her legs gave up and with all her weight she collapsed on the floor. Cold. Dark. The impact against the floor arrived like a delayed effect in her back and head. She blinked one last time and believed having seen a pale man with long bleached hairs and darkened gaze. From afar, he mumbled her name. She felt herself being lifted in his arms. Then the shots happened somewhere at a distance while falling into the abyss with no point of return or rescue. And Loreto remained trapped in the darkness.