36

The stage was huge and full of light and color. At the far end, at the microphone, a shapely succubus had just finished her song and the crowd was going wild. She was all pink and glamorous with wings and a thrashing tail. Two horns rose out of wavy locks of silvery white hair, which she tossed and flipped as she sauntered around in a black patent leather mini skirt and tube top. She waved to the crowd as they screamed again, then blew them all a kiss as she exited leaving Isobel alone in the spotlight.

Isobel became aware of the extreme difference she was from the previous act. Like a storm cloud after a rainbow, and it made her feel very out of place.

She turned toward the curtain she had stumbled through and saw Vox looking back at her from the shadows. He had stopped short, just before stepping into the light. He couldn't afford to chase Isobel on stage and make a scene. What would happen to his approval rating if he attacked a defenseless woman and it was televised to all of Hell? So he stayed in the shadows and glared venom at her.

Isobel backed away from him and toward the microphone. Her eyes darted side to side into the wings. She could see the tech crew scrambling frantically, trying to react to this unexpected turn of events. She stepped up to the mic and looked out at the sea of people. A trickle of sweat ran down her temple and her mouth suddenly felt very dry.

It's fine, she told herself, closing her eyes. You've done this before. Just sing. Breathing in deeply, she opened her eyes and tried to imagine Angel Dust sitting in the back giving her four thumbs up.

"Hello, everyone," she said, trying her best not to sound terrified. "I'm Isobel from the Pride Ring." There was a smattering of applause and cheers. "I'm going to sing you all a song tonight."

She looked into the wings again hoping for some sign that they were ready for her. She could also see Fizzarolli watching from the shadows. Behind him a tall figure stood illuminating the dark with a bright blue mane.

"Um, so this is for everyone I had to leave back at home." She gave a little nod and music blared as she launched into Alone Together. "I don't know where you're going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul?"

Her voice rang out and echoed across the crowd carried along with the music. The audience jumped, hollered, and clapped along; and every time she would sing "say yeah" they responded loud and clear. Isobel sang with all her might trying to ignore the danger awaiting her the minute she stepped foot off the stage.

"What the fuck?" Husker suddenly sat up shaking liquid from his face. Angel had just spit out a mouthful of cocktail all over his lap where Husker's head was previously resting.

Husk wiped the stinging alcohol from his eyes and turned to Angel ready to lecture him about the dangers of laughing while drinking when he stopped. Angel seemed to be frozen in an extreme state of shock. His eyes were wide and staring, mouth open, finger pointing toward the TV.

Husker followed his gaze as the image of a woman dressed all in black, boots, and jacket played across the screen. Like a shadow, she moved around the stage singing to the crowd. Her movements, body language, and voice all seemed very familiar.

"Wait," Husk said. "Is that?"

"It's her," Angel finally found his voice. Without pulling his eyes away, (too afraid what he was seeing was a mirage) he started yelling for Charlie, who came running almost immediately. Several of them had gathered to watch the Lust Gala and Spectacular, after all, it was a televised event. They had felt a little bittersweet about it, though no one was saying it, but everyone had remembered that Isobel, had she been alive, was supposed to perform. Charlie and Vaggie had just excused themselves to make some snacks when Angel's agitated voice drifted into the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" Charlie ran into the room followed closely by Vaggie. Angel was still pointing at the screen.

"It's Isobel," he said.

"Holy shit," Vaggie blurted.

It took a moment for Charlie's brain to catch up. Isobel? Isobel who? She was gone. The angels took her and destroyed her soul, and ever since Charlie had been wracked with the guilt of not being able to stop it. She dropped to her knees and crawled the TV. Placing both hands on it, she looked back over her shoulder, eyes wide and glistening.

"Oh. My. God."

"Get outta the way," Angel told her as he stood up grabbing the remote and turning up the volume. "How is she there? How did this happen? What do we do?"

"I don't know?" Charlie exclaimed.

All they could do was watch until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke them of their trance. They tore their attention away from the screen and toward Husker.

"So, uh," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Who's going to tell Alastor?"

Their eyes darted back and forth among each other, uncertain and nervous. No one wanted to volunteer.

"Tell me what?"

All heads snapped back around. Alastor stood behind the TV, smiling but suspicious. He had been especially unhinged as of late and everyone had been walking on eggshells so as not to provoke an outburst.

"Oh, uh, hey Alastor," Charlie said anxiously. "I think you need to look at the TV."

"Not interested," he thumped his cane. They all knew his loathing of the picture box, why were they bothering him with it now?

"No, really, Al," Angel said. "Just look at the TV."

"I think not. I have no intention of engaging with this detestable apparatus." He turned to walk away.

"Just look at the Goddamned TV," Charlie pleaded, but he just ignored her and continued toward the stairs. Charlie and Angel began to yell at his back, which was just starting to annoy him.

"That's it," Vaggie said, coming up behind him and grabbing him by the waist. She practically picked him up over her head.

"Un hand me, you violent savage."

She dumped him on the couch and pointed toward the screen. "Just fucking look, asshole."

His protests stopped as realization sunk in. He watched, his brain trying to comprehend. Suddenly Alastor shot to his feet, sending the rest jumping back a step. He pointed his cane at Charlie.

"Get your telephone."

Isobel ended her song smiling, arms outstretched to the crowd. Applause followed as she stepped back and bowed. She looked toward the wings. On one side, The Great Fizzarolli watched arms folded and eyebrow cocked, confused and unamused. On the other side the Vs waited for her practically frothing at their mouths. She couldn't get off the stage, so panicked, she returned to the mic, an overly enthused smile on her face.

"Thank you! You guys are a great crowd!" The audience shouted back to her. "How about one more?" Another roar. At this point they probably would have cheered at anything. She had sent two song options for the show way back when and hoped that they might have had both ready to go. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the crew scrambling again. At this rate she was never going to be invited back next year, but she needed more time to think of a way out.

Thankfully, music started up, and Isobel started in on Keep Me Crazy. At some point in the middle of the song, she made a desperate decision and on the last beat of the music she ran forward and launched herself off the stage. As she sailed through the air, Isobel wondered if they would catch her before she was impaled on their horns. She closed her eyes and braced herself for impact.

A dozen imp hands caught her body, breaking her fall and gingerly lowered her to the ground. She pulled her hood up and ducked, fighting her way through the throng toward the exit. She finally found the door and ran out onto the street. Keeping her hood up, she tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, though she had the suspicion that she was failing miserably.

She only made it about half a block before a beat up, old van with red stripes and many dents and scratches came screeching to a halt next to her. The passenger side window rolled down and an imp with curling horns and a white patch on his face leaned out.

"You Isobel?" he asked. She stopped, confused and startled.

"Who's asking?" It was all she could think of.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." The imp reached behind him and the back door slid open. "Get in." She didn't move. He sighed and rolled his eyes in an 'I'm over this shit' kind of way. "Look, either get in or don't. I don't really give a shit, but I was called to come pick you up, so we're here."

Isobel looked down the street, into a city she did not know. She angrily huffed and then did the one thing that every murder documentary told her to never do. She climbed into the van of a stranger.