(This chapter has some repetitive tune-age. I listened to at least five versions of Depeche Mode's Black Celebration while writing this. I'll only cue you to three, for sanity's sake.)
(Black Celebration - Bicircular cover)
When Evangelina got back to the Bradford, she was surprised to find the common area empty except for Michael, who sat alone at the bar. He had his back to the long ebony surface and looked quite comfortable in his sprawl, at a glance. Even at a distance she could feel the weight of his attention from the moment she walked into the dimly-lit lobby.
"Evangelina," he said. "Please come here."
Despite his genial tone, the woman felt ill at ease. Strange, since she hadn't done anything she could think of that might upset him. She crossed the lobby and tugged her cloak off, though what she wanted to do was draw it closer to herself. She laid it over the back of a wingback chair as she passed. She was left in a lightweight sleeveless dress of black chiffon, but the room was warm enough that it didn't matter.
Michael waited until she was almost within arm's reach before getting to his feet. He stepped right into her personal space, which forced her to look up at him because he had a few inches on her. He smiled down at her, noting her uncertainty and enjoying the control it gave him to keep her on edge. He wanted to ravish her right there on the bar, but he stuffed the carnal urge down.
"My dear Evangelina," he said, tracing her jaw lightly with a finger before hooking it under her chin. "You're going to be a mother."
The information percolated visibly in her fine-boned features and she searched his face for his feelings on the matter. He smiled, appreciating her instincts.
"I located Mother Constance. The Dragon told her, and she told me," Michael supplied, though she hadn't asked.
He gathered the pale woman up under an arm and placed his palm over her flat tummy. The baby was still too small to feel with his hand, but he could sense the tiny seed of life stirring there. Life that he made without having to hurt someone first.
"We don't need her for the ritual," he went on, but he was distracted.
He had been on board with the idea of turning Evangelina over to the Dragon but being near the tiny energy signature that he'd help create made him not want to share it. Not with anyone, even the Dragon.
"What do you mean?" Evangelina asked, not following him.
He blinked and smiled at her again, focus restored. "Never mind. Let's celebrate. Are you hungry?"
…
(Black Celebration - Nitronoise cover, followed by Leæther Strip's cover)
Ford Theatre was lit up as bright as day on the night of Michael's birthday. Large fans pushed back the fog so even the cheap seats could see what was going on in the center of the venue. The Greek-style open stage was appointed with a large wooden base set with two tall poles. The contraption was painted black; a pair of iron chains dangled from posts set high in the poles, terminating in sturdy manacles.
The platform was surrounded by a circle of nine fat tallow candles and, further out, a ring of five flaming steel mesh barrels. Red and black roses littered the floor. Loud music blared through the theater's speaker system, bringing back to life a time almost forgotten. Vendors worked the crowd, selling trinkets, noise makers, beer and food. The crowd was electric, almost as loud as the music. They weren't there for the dark tunes or the opening acts like the sword dancer who was currently traipsing about the stage. The audience knew the best was yet to come.
The beat from the huge speakers was strong enough to be felt even in the green room beneath the arena seating. Evangelina's pulse moved in time to the rhythm that she felt more than heard. People bustled around her, but she felt disconnected from it all, hazy and slow, like she'd been drugged. It was a feeling that had crept over her when she entered the theatre with Michael, an hour before. Several women tended to her, helping to get her into a simple but pretty dress made of ivory lace and satin, adorned with tiny polished conch shells and mother of pearl accents. Her long, platinum-blonde hair was braided and pinned, studded with white and black pearls.
Evangelina was in no state to appreciate her appearance. Time seemed to smear by and soon she found herself being hustled out to the center stage by two muscular men dressed in white turtleneck sweaters and white pants stuffed into white combat boots. The crowd roared in response to their appearance. Brilliant red and gold fireworks went off, momentarily blinding her.
She felt queasy and tried to stop but the men grabbed her arms and lifted her up in between the tall posts. Before she could process what was happening, they had clapped the manacles around her wrists, chaining her to the poles. As soon as she was secured, the men left. Neither looked her in the eye.
"Wait!" she called after them, but her voice was lost to the cacophonic din.
The woman tried to pull her hands free, but the manacles were too tight. A glance up let her know she wouldn't be able to loosen the chains from the posts; the chains were held in place by screwed-in O-rings. She didn't understand what was happening. When Michael had asked her to escort him to the party, she had assumed they would be together the whole time but when she arrived at the arena, she had been immediately whisked away to the green room. She had no idea where he was now.
"Michael!" she screamed but her voice was lost, even to her own ears. The crowd and music were too loud.
The lights were too bright for her to see much beyond the stage. Everywhere she looked, white light stunned her. She could smell smoke and burnt gunpowder. The music reached a crescendo then silenced, and the stage lights shifted to red. Evangelina could make out the audience, but they had been cast into darkness so were just shadowy silhouettes beyond the red glow.
Over the speakers, a voice she recognized as Fiona's began to drone an ancient incantation: A spell of summoning. On stage, another white-clad man led a black-and-white Billy goat up, right before Evangelina. He didn't even look at her but pulled a long hunting knife from the sheath on his hip and slit the goat's throat. Blood splashed the stage and Evangelina's white dress, red roses on the white lace. The man exited the stage as quickly as he could without running, leaving the goat's body on the stage to bleed out.
The air heated up rapidly, a change Evangelina noted peripherally because the cold December air had been biting right through the thin dress. Now, she was getting too hot. Smoke billowed over the stage though there weren't any fireworks going off. The smog smelled worse than gunpowder. It was acrid; downright sulfuric. There was a lull when Fiona finished the spell. The air pressure increased drastically; even the dullest wit in the assemblage could tell something was happening and all were dead silent.
Then, with a loud crack like a hundred trees being felled at once, the earth split open right in front of the center stage.
Thick smoke boiled up out of the widening fissure, prompting screams and cheers from the crowd. The ground beneath Evangelina shook violently. She would have fallen if it weren't for the chains that held her. She staggered about, trying to regain her footing. Having her full weight pulling on her arm joints hurt.
A dark shape emerged from the huge fissure, a shadow in the smoke at first, then it spread its wings. Rising up to tower above the chained lady, as the smoke cleared the form resolved into that of a giant dragon. When it hauled itself up out of the gap, the creature dwarfed the arena. Black as night and rippling with powerful muscles, the Beast surveyed the crowd and gave a mighty roar like thunder.
A great cheer went up from the crowd at the potent display. The Beast basked in its diabolical glory, stretching and showing off its wings and lashing its tail impressively. When it tired of the preening, the Dragon turned its attention to the bound woman, swiveling its prehensile neck so it could look at her on her level without lowering itself.
Evangelina trembled under its direct scrutiny, terrified. She could feel the immense power of the Beast along with the heat it radiated. It put its nose right up against her middle and inhaled. The intake of breath was strong enough to tug at the lightweight dress. Then the gigantic creature threw its head back and belched a gout of white flame up into the sky, brighter than the earlier fireworks. The light show ended in a screech of a roar that shook the arena and caused many to cover their ears.
The Dragon spread its wings and was airborne, battering the theatre with a gust of dusty wind. As it took off, it swiped one great claw at Evangelina and snatched her up, snapping the chains like threads without harming her. It gave another triumphant roar and climbed higher into the dark sky, so fast it was quickly lost among the clouds and thinning smoke.
The spectacle was met with stunned silence then the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers that shook the arena almost as much as the Beast's roar did.
—
In the staging area, Michael was in full panic. He had seen the whole thing from the communications room, and it wasn't at all what he expected. Tearing himself away from the generator-powered monitor—the event's only camera broadcast—the young man cast about for someone to blame. He saw Pieter and targeted him, anxiety and anger growing.
"It took her! The Dragon took her!" he yelled. He grabbed two fists full of Pieter's black silk shirt and got up in the warlock's face. "It wasn't supposed to take her!"
Pieter tolerated the manhandling with his typical unflappable patience. "What did you expect? She was His sacrifice."
"Ritual sacrifice!" Michael stressed. "Ritual! An act! A dem-on-stra-tion!" He emphasized, injecting each syllable of the word each with his ire. "He wasn't supposed to take her!"
"Perhaps you should discuss that with Him?"
Michael glared at the blond man, but he knew Pieter had no more control over the situation than anyone else at the moment, even himself. No one could control the Dragon. That inherent understanding sapped Michael's fury, which he also didn't want. He felt better when he was raging because then, he couldn't feel anything else. But it was gone now. Logic killed it.
Disgusted with the Pieter's sense and irritated with his own helplessness, Michael released the man with an impertinent shove. Pieter smoothed the creases from his shirt and straightened his ponytail.
Michael started to pace. "I want her back," he demanded of no one. He couldn't help thinking about the baby and what might happen to it. "The prophecy. What—The pregnancy. What's the significance? What's supposed to happen to the baby?"
"It depends on which version of the prophecy you refer to," Pieter smiled benignly. "Some Christians believe that the Beast will be waiting to devour the infant when she gives birth. Some believe the baby will be the ruler of nations."
Michael didn't like either of those ideas. He stopped pacing and looked at Pieter. "What do you believe?"
Pieter's brows went up. "Me?" He smiled. "I believe the future is what you decide it will be. That is why it's so important to control what you do and think."
"Thanks for the moral lesson," Michael said bitterly, not at all thankful. "How the hell do we get Evangelina back?"
Pieter spread his hands. "He will bring her back if He wishes to."
"The coven just summoned Him!" Michael protested.
"What we did was like…knocking on someone's door," said Pieter. "We didn't force the Dragon to come here. Surely you know that."
Michael was beginning to tire of the conversation, mostly because the warlock was being persistently and annoyingly right. "Fuck!" the younger man swore, finally reaching a dead end with his whirlwind thoughts. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to clamp down on the anxiety gnawing at his guts. He had made mistakes before, but he knew this one was the worst one ever.
"Come," Pieter invited, slipping an arm around Michael's shoulders. "Let's go get your mind off of things. The VIP orgy is starting soon."
"I don't want to!" Michael snarled, temper flaring again. He shoved Pieter's arm away and headed for the door. "I'm leaving!"
Pieter watched him go. "But it's your birthday party…"
It was no use. Michael was gone.
…
Author's Note:
I'll admit, I played Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain when the Dragon came up out of the ground. I didn't cue it in the chapter because I didn't want to interrupt the flow or seem to cheesy but it definitely helped drive the mood while I was writing it. Also embedded in this chapter and the last one are several references to horror songs. Too many to list. Play seek-and-find if you re-read them. See how many you can spot.
And, of course, there's the huge glaring King Kong homage. You had to know I was gonna work one of those in somewhere. The dress Evangelina wears is, in my mind, reminiscent of the one Jessica Lange wore in the 1976 film. She was so sexy in that dress, especially in the waterfall scene. Rowr!
Anyway, where was I? Right. Next time: Tate can't get anybody to validate his hurt feelings. Meanwhile, Troy gets to meet Michael...but under strange circumstances.