.
Brood of a New Age
72.
The one sixty small twenty-something with the mohawk was the first to find words. Real words, not a scream.
"That's crazy. That's a gargoyle! Is that the one the mobsters are so scared of?"
Then, as if the little one had broken a spell, the big bull-neck curled up his lip and nudged the woman standing in front of him.
"What people are you dealing with that's coming after us?"
She didn't take her eyes off Dante but still managed to reprimand the big guy.
"I don't make deals with anyone, Ron. And don't say "that". HE can't be here for us."
Her gaze dropped to the CD Dante was holding. Her gaze turned stubborn as she pointed at the CD.
"That ... is mine. Can I have it back? ... Dude."
"That's the new album from BMS," Dante said truthfully which was neither an answer to her question nor a reaction to the fact that the three of them were now coming into the room. The tall one - Ron - who was still the most alert in the face of the monster, closed the door and placed one of the chairs in front of it. Otherwise, it was rather Dante who barricaded the doors so that his enemies/victims could not get out.
"BMS. Yes," the woman confirmed. Dante ignored that the skinny little guy who had spoken first was staring at him.
"But ... that's not out yet. The album."
"Oh, someone knows his stuff. No, that's not out yet. But I have connections." She folded her arms across her chest and smiled cheekily at him. Normally, Dante would have shot back. Grunted something equally cheeky. But not when he had the latest disc of Banco del Mutuo Soccorso in his clutches BEFORE it was even out. This was a holy grail!
"You sound like a countryman. I'm Vittorio. The big thug is Ron and the Signora is Ria. What's your name? How long have you been in America?" pestered the little one with the mohawk, getting too close so that he backed away a step even though he could have crushed the pipsqueak with one punch. Dante felt caught off guard and looked indecisively at the window. But the CD in his hand was worth taking on these strange people who had far too little fear.
"Dante. Four weeks."
"Hard to get good Italian rock here, isn't it?" the woman inquired kindly.
"I ... haven't looked around for it yet." Dante's face fell, he took a deep breath. "But I find everything here hard. I miss Italy. Everything about it. Most of all the music, I think." He didn't even know why he was starting to be honest NOW. Even though these three were strangers to him. Perhaps precisely because they were strangers.
Vittorio nodded, as did the woman.
"America, can really fuck you up if you don't find your place in it. Or the right people. Ask me about it."
"Hey!" groaned Ron, miffed, from the doorway.
Ria raised schoolmarmish an index finger, underlining Dante's impression that she was the honcho among the males.
"I didn't mean you or Vittorio, Ronnie. I meant Michele, the ass!" She strode over to the couch with the sleeping guy and flicked him several times against the head. He grunted but didn't even begin to wake up. "Who makes us haul his equipment and then gets so stoned he's gig-incapable. Great singer, if I have to do his damn job every other time."
"I told you last year he was a failure."
Dante tried to ignore the discussing humans (and the staring little guy) swallowed and looked down at the CD player still on the floor. He knew he should leave. Then again ... here was the latest CD from one of his favorite bands AND a CD player.
"May - may I listen to it?" he heard himself ask, feeling like he was detached from his body because he wasn't used to hearing his voice so polite, almost humble.
The big guy with the Prince Valiant haircut looked like Dante had grabbed his dick without apologizing.
"Huh?"
He tapped a pointed claw on the plastic cover. "Just one song."
Where the boys looked at each other in bewilderment, Ria grinned and strode toward him. She bent down in front of him, grabbed the CD player and took the CD from his fingers.
"Sure you can listen in. I can't deny it to another music junkie. The three of us know the songs by heart anyway."
"- after she forced us to rehearse them for two weeks," Vittorio added, exhausted. "As if any of the half-drunk Yanks out there would appreciate that."
She put the CD into her Diskman and gave Dante the bulky headphones.
He lifted the closed guitar case off the couch and sat down next to the comatose Michele, who instantly, because of the weight on the cushion, toppled onto him and was pushed aside by Dante before he could drool on his suit. If he was awake, he'd be freaking out. Or not because he'd still be stoned.
"What song do you want to hear?" Ria tapped the buttons since she didn't know how fine-motor gifted a gargoyle could be with his claws.
"'Doesn't matter. Gonna like them all."
Five minutes later, Dante was still sitting on the couch. He was listening to the song Ria had chosen for the second time, had his eyes closed and was rocking back and forth, absolutely in his own world.
All three humans had more than enough time and free space to extensively examine the strange non-human without him noticing it at all. Vittorio chewed on his chocolate bar while Ron ate an apple and Ria was content with water.
"Man, if a Quarryman comes in with his hammer now, he's dead," the little drummer said.
"He's really into BMS."
"Not only that," Ria muttered thoughtfully. " See what his hand is doing?
"It's twitching," Ron said.
"No. It's plucking. He's plucking strings." She looked at her two boys. "You've both tried your hand at the guitar. And you know the song I picked. Watch."
Again, all three looked at the gargoyle who was now humming in his melodious voice. Now with focus on his right hand.
After ten seconds Ron grinned and shook his head in disbelief. "Shit. That guy's a guitarist."
"Awesome," Vittorio whispered. "He's plucking by the notes in his head on-point like he's been listening to the song up and down and studying the notes for two weeks, like us. How does he do that?"
"I don't know," Ria muttered. All at once the humming got louder. And sounds began to peel out. Sounds that became words. All three humans watched flabbergasted as the gargoyle-still with his eyes closed, still forgetting that he was not alone-opened his abnormal beak with its myriad of fangs and began to sing in the smokiest most ingratiating baritone any of them had ever heard.
He sang along for the entire last third of the song, his clawed foot bouncing in time with the drums and guitars in the song, his tail likewise tapping the upholstery of the couch. And his smile. How could that mouth, which just a moment ago had seemed so beastly to everyone, smile like that, make such sounds? After two minutes, when the song slowly faded out for the second time and the device was about to turn off because of the setting Ria had chosen, all three gasped in unison.
"Wow," Vittorio breathed, as awestruckly taciturn as Ria had ever seen him.
They both saw Ron hastily wipe away a tear and he looked at them venomously, never to bring that up. But damn it, they had their own hearts beating wildly with happiness, euphoria and excitement. They heard the CD player make a whirring sound and then turn off. The gargoyle puffed deeply as if waking up from a wonderful dream. Only to find himself in a reality that, like his suit, seemed to fit perfectly, but still looked wrong.
"That was good," he said softly as if he had eaten the most delicious meal and regretted not being able to eat it again for a long time - perhaps never again.
"You sang," Ron said, still shaken.
The gargoyle, Dante, grimaced. "Sorry."
"What are you apologizing for? That was incredibly good! Every note was spot on. No, bullshit. You were even better than the original singer! How did you manage to memorize the lyrics and notes right away?" blurted Vittorio, who had found his voice again.
Dante shrugged, somewhat perplexed. Ria looked at this strange creature in front of her, now scowling and grim again, while he carefully removed the CD from the player with pointed claws and put it back into the protective CD case.
"You're a singer, Dante. You're a musician," she said.
The gargoyle grunted in amusement at this ridiculous misjudgment.
"I am not a musician, Signora Ria. It is ... not even a hobby. Thank you," he muttered, still with that strange but sad calmness in his body, holding out the CD to Ria.
She looked down at it in irritation.
"I get it back?"
"Sure. Of course."
"Pretty polite for the rumors people hear about you. Thought you were going to keep it. And kill us."
"... I only pilfer things on command or for fun. Stealing something like that from someone isn't right."
Immediately after he spoke the last word, Dante made a face. Had he really just said that? Had the Do-Gooders and Signora Katana really rubbed off on him in such a way that he passed up the chance to get his hands on the latest BMS album? What did he care if these people couldn't hear the CD anymore? But ... he still cared.
The human woman surprised him by giving him back the CD.
"You can keep it if you want. The CD player too."
"Really?" He was used to people offering him things as gifts. But more likely not out of kindness but to bribe him not to kill them.
"In exchange for a little trade," she added, flashing a rather sly smile.
"I see," Dante said suspiciously, confirmed in his hunch.
.
.
"Dante's stomach revolted again.
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"It's just stage fright. As soon as Vittorio starts the act, it will fall off you."
"I can't do it, Signora," he whispered. He turned his head to Ria, who was tuning her bass in the semi-darkness where Vittorio was checking his drums and flipping Ron switches on his keyboard for the following number. The one he had just heard on the player. The thick black curtain right in front of his nose somewhat blocked the smells and sounds of the numerous people behind it. But while Dante had never been very shy about exposing himself to individuals or small groups of people, this was a different matter altogether.
He tried to get out a sound, another sentence, but his voice was the shrill inhuman chirp of a gargoyle hatchling.
Ria stood next to him with her own musical instrument so that he could feel her body heat.
"In the original, BMS are seven guys. This one will be a cinch. We broke the songs down to our smaller ensemble. You've got just me on the single bass. And Ron on keyboards and Vittorio on drums. You can do that. You've got it in you."
"I...shouldn't."
"Nobody's asking if you should. I'm asking if you will and can."
Dante looked down at the electric guitar. Which was in his own hands. His right hand was probably not the problem. The hard, 0.8 mm thick, teardrop-shaped plectrum (good for beginners, as Ria said) was tiny between his claws, but it would last. Gently, he stroked the strings with his right hand on the guitar's handle. So gently that they didn't even tremble. He knew as soon as he started plucking he would inevitably get his claws on them. It wasn't the most expensive or best guitar on the market (he had done a little research out of interest.) But it was still too good to ruin. "I'm going to damage the varnish. My claws will tear the strings. "
"Then we'll adapt our playing to it. YOU adjust your playing to it. Or leave the guitar out altogether then, that works for us too. We practice all our stuff without guitar and with me singing because Michele is such a lazy pot-smoking prick. But the next song you're singing."
"That's nuts!"
"The whole world is nuts," said Vittorio, his eyes shining with joyful excitement.
"YOUR voice has to be out there today. When they hear you, they'll forget you're a freak," Ron opined, and Gargoyle as well as human glared at each other briefly. Before Dante grinned. "Better a freak than a refrigerator, Ronald Mac Donald."
Ria, Vittorio, and after a moment of shock, even Ron, laughed. Even Dante laughed softly. This was too crazy. This could only go to hell. At best, it would end in a riot. Hopefully, no one had the GTF or the Quarrymen on speed dial. He glanced again at the staff at the edge of the stage, who should taking care of the technology and standing together, staring at him in horror.
"Don't you guys have anything to do? If the acoustics and lights aren't right, I'll chew you up and spit you out before our singer can do it," Ria threatened loudly enough to be heard in the buzzing auditorium. The people scurried off to do their work. Dante looked at her and suddenly didn't know why he had ever considered her ordinary, visually and character-wise. Her smile harbored all his dreams and lulled him into a deceptive sense of security.
"Forget about them and forget about the people in the auditorium," she said. "The light will blind you so you can hardly see their faces. Fade out if they shout something and I'll play louder. If it gets too much for you, close your eyes and let the music guide you. Today or never, Dante. You are more than a gargoyle and more than a villain. Let everyone know that."
Ria positioned herself a few feet away from him but still close enough that he could feel her presence. She raised her arm and Ron nodded, putting his hands to the keyboard. He would pound the keys hard in a moment and Vittorio would step in. Rita grinned at him.
"You have friends backing you up, Dante. We are your band. That's all you need to know. Now sing and play."
She lowered her arm and instantly wild sounds burst from the speakers around her as Ron kicked off, blocking out all sound from the auditorium.
Vittorio began to drum, Ria joined in. The curtain slowly rose. Dante stepped up to the mic, where the sound check had already been done, licked his lips again.
"Friends. My band. Okay." he whispered, proudly lifting his head, taking a breath, opening his mouth and facing the world.
WATCH/HEAR - Youtube: Banco del Mutuo Soccorso - R.I.P. LIVE ACT 7,54min : / watch?v=vIGvLXHd2ZM
...
Cavalli corpi e lance rotte (On heaps of dead flesh, Horses bodies and broken spears)
si tingono di rosso, (are dyed red,)
lamenti di persone che muoiono da sole (wails of people dying alone)
senza un Cristo che sia là. (Without a Christ who is there.)
Pupille enormi volte al sole (Huge pupils vault in the sun)
la polvere e la sete (dust and thirst)
l'affanno della morte lo senti sempre addosso (The breathlessness of death you always feel on you)
anche se non saprai perchè. (Though you may not know why.)
Requiescant in pace. Requiescant in pace.
Requiescant in pace. Requiescant in pace.
Su cumuli di carni morte
hai eretto la tua gloria (Thou hast erected thy glory)
ma il sangue che hai versato su te è ricaduto (But the blood thou hast shed upon thee has fallen back)
la tua guerra è finita (Thy war is over)
vecchio soldato. (old soldier.)
Ora si è seduto il vento (Now sat the wind)
il tuo sguardo è rimasto appeso al cielo (your gaze has hung on the sky)
sugli occhi c'è il sole (On your eyes is the sun)
nel petto ti resta un pugnale (In your chest remains a dagger)
e tu no, non scaglierai mai più (And you no, you will never again hurl)
la tua lancia per ferire l'orizzonte (Your spear to wound the horizon)
per spingerti al di là (To push you beyond)
per scoprire ciò che solo Iddio sa (To discover what only God knows)
ma di te resterà soltanto (But of you will remain only)
il dolore, il pianto che tu hai regalato (The pain, the weeping that thou hast given)
per spingerti al di là (To push you beyond)
per scoprire ciò che solo Iddio sa. (To discover what only God knows.)
Per spingerti al di là, (To push you beyond,)
per scoprire ciò che solo Iddio sa... (To discover what only God knows...)
I may be the only person who doesn't find it annoying when authors include music tips to accompany parts of chapters. I Love that. And I need to do this more often though, I have SO many songs in my head that go along with certain chapters. Love it or hate it - The movie in my head has a soundtrack.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.