Heavy Metal
By Casey Douglass
The fog deepened as he
walked, the echoes of his footsteps swallowed by the milky darkness
around him. He smiled to himself, it was a very fortunate occurrence,
as fabricating a thick fog like this would be very draining for him.
Sometimes nature just gave you a hand.
The street was empty,
which was odd for this time of night in the city. High rise offices
in the distance loomed like silent sentinels, blocking out the first
stars of the evening with their black bulk. Small particles of
moisture in the air swirled and eddied around dirty street lights,
which strained to give off more light than a candle which was about
to burn itself out.
He sighed heavily. He
missed candles. Oh he knew they were around, but not like in the old
days when entire houses were lit with them, the flickering flames
dancing against the carefully sculpted décor...a much richer time
for everyone, especially him.
Glancing down, he
straightened his black t-shirt with its satanic pictograph,
hesitated, and then messed it up a little once more. He caught sight
of his ripped jeans, the heavy pewter chains clinking gently with
each stride. Such vulgarity.
The sound of laughter
pulled him from his quiet introspection as a group of teenagers
rounded a corner ahead of him, their backs to him as they headed the
same way he walked. He heard the muffled chirping of a mobile phone,
the laugher coming every time it made the humorous noise.
The vein in his right
arm started to throb. He wondered if it was hunger or annoyance, but
he wasn’t sure. The gaggle of teens turned the next corner and
began down the hill to the venue, other lone stragglers joining them
from other directions as they got nearer to the main door, all
converging on their place of worship, most wearing Lacuna Coil
clothing. The vague thump of music reached his ears, the sound
proofing doing a remarkably good job of not unsettling the locals who
lived nearby. The river behind the building glistened in the
reflected light that travelled from street lights to fog to water, a
silvery serpent just moving through.
‘Ticket please?’
He flinched, surprised
that he had reached the door with its surly guardian so quickly.
‘Of course.’ He
reached into his back pocket and handed the scowling man the small
slip of paper. The man tore the end and returned the main piece to
him.
‘Have a good night.’
‘Thank you...and
you.’ He almost smiled but dare not chance it.
Strolling inside, he
found the outer foyer to be deserted, but the show had already
started so he registered no surprise. Upon opening the second door,
the rawkish music washed over him, the darkness married with the
flashing lights above the stage dazzling and disorientating him.
Everything swam around him as dark silhouettes jumped up and down,
waving their arms to the music and bouncing off each other. A jolt of
annoyance rose through his body, his teeth biting into his lip. He
arched his back and pulled himself to his full stature, the room
around him stationary and crystal clear once more.
Slowly he moved through
the crowd, tracing a line around the back to where the bar was. The
potential! The crowd erupted into applause as one tune ended and
another seemed about to start. He ignored what was said by the noisy
man on stage, tried to block out the screeching of guitars being
adjusted and tested. He scanned the massed bodies, his stomach
beginning to rumble.
The next song began.
The music was excruciating, a mass of noise and shouting that seemed
to reverberate inside his chest. His eyes fell upon a woman a few
paces away, jumping up and down to the rhythm. She smelt clean and
fresh, and had a hint of that earthy smell that he could never quite
place, but that usually meant high quality blood.
‘You’ll do very
nicely,’ he said into the ambient noise around him.
He began to move
closer, teasing himself with the anticipation, his incisors pressing
uncomfortably into his cheeks. He couldn’t do it here but he didn’t
want to lose track of her if the crowd shifted.
A large fat man sidled
into his path barring the way. He gently pressed the man's shoulder,
transmitting the irresistible urge to urinate to the man’s
subconscious. The man hunched over and quickly waddled away crying
out as he went.
He stood right behind
her now, the smell was intoxicating. He reached out about to enthral
her when the voice began. He stared at the stage in awe as the dark
haired female began to sing along with the music. What had seemed a
cacophony of sound lacking all profundity, now sounded like honey
dripping from a crystal spoon, like the sigh of a spring breeze on
the fresh leaves of the season, like...like..nothing he had ever
heard before. With a jolt he realised that the woman was watching
him, singing to him, her smiling eyes bewitching him. He shook his
head from side to side, a feeling of sluggishness worming its way
into his thoughts. The woman winked and turned away, the
uncomfortable feeling vanishing as quickly as it had come.
He stood in a daze as
song after song washed over him, not realizing that his original
target was long gone, or that his mouth had fallen open, revealing
more than he would usually have dared allow. Before he knew it, the
crowd around him erupted and whooped, the members of the travelling
band standing hand in hand, bowing down before them. He applauded
without thinking, his claps louder than any others. Then the stage
was empty, the crowd around him thinning to the point of isolation.
His wits returning he made for the egress, and hastily slipped into
the shadows.
He waited for a long
time, his sensitive ears picking up scores of voices through a
slightly open window at the back of the building. He strained to hear
hers. He felt ill and weak, he hadn’t fed for months, not since
that unpleasant business with the actress and her director. He could
really do without that kind of exposure. His trembling hands toyed
with the chain on his jeans, his grip flexing and bending the links
until they snapped and tinkled to the floor. He didn’t notice.
‘I’m just going out
for some air, it’s stuffy.’
He jolted to full
awareness, it was her! Her voice sounded different, an exotic accent
added a flavour to her words that didn’t come through to any great
degree when she sang. It transfixed him. She was coming outside! A
small side door banged open and she stepped out, still wearing her
stage uniform which he had failed to notice before. She was petit,
with a slender body, and her dark hair coiled around her collar. Her
black jacket and trousers clung to her figure tightly as the heat had
plastered them to her. She carried a small bottle of water in her
hand which she sipped as she walked to a railing and stared out
across the river.
He edged out from the
shadows and soundlessly stalked forward, walking in that special way
that, if compared, would make a slinking cat sound like a clumsy dog
running on gravel. Nearing the door, he gently pushed it closed with
one finger. No interruptions.
The woman ahead sighed
and fanned herself with her free hand, the dank river air currents
carrying back her scent to him. He stopped short and trembled. He
might woo her instead! The trembling, the dazed mind, it might not be
hunger after all, it could be love, truly and utterly. How could he
feed from her against her will, a creature of such beauty and voice,
it would be the most evil thing he had ever done. A tear stung the
side of his eye as a leaden feeling pressed his stomach down. He was
a monster. Maybe she could help? Maybe she could help him break his
habits, his dark deeds. Maybe she would save him from his loneliness,
help him find the light again, help him-
‘Don’t stand there
all night, are you coming to talk to me or not?’ she said, her back
still to him.
‘Oh...I’m sorry, I
was being bashful.’
‘Come on, no need to
be like that!’ she giggled.
He slowly moved towards
her, he felt like he was floating.
‘I wondered what
you’d think, a stranger accosting a pretty woman when she is alone
in the dark, I didn’t want to scare you.’
He had almost reached
her, he could feel the heat coming from her body, he could sense her
pulse.
‘I thought you might
be scared of me,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t bite.’
He stopped. She spun
around and buried something sharp and cold into the side of his neck.
He opened his mouth to scream but she clamped a hand firmly over it.
The world spun around him and he fell to his knees, she dropping to
hers at the same moment, tightening her grip. Her eyes flashed close
to his, mischief sparkling near their edges.
‘Didn’t you
wonder?’ she asked smiling.
Gasping, he felt sticky
fluid running down his neck and through his clothes, his eyes still
locked onto hers.
‘Mmph.’
‘Was that a “What?”
I think it was! Didn’t you wonder why we always tour out of the way
places that no body would ever dream we would play at?’ She
wrenched the object out of his neck, the fluid having stopped moments
before. He saw her glance at the ornate knife before pushing it into
his chest. His eyes screwed shut as he felt it piercing his heart, a
white hot feeling rushing through his breast. Even at this stage his
mind wondered if the pain was from the knife or from the desire
unrequited. A tear dripped down the side of his nose when he managed
to open his eyes again.
‘We know where you
are, what you are, and what you do. We arrange our little tours when
news of one of you bastards gets to us.’ She spat at him.
The night seemed darker
now, the shifting fog revealing more figures around them. Standing.
Watching.
‘Finish him
Cristina,’ one of them said. ‘I don’t think he is the one!’
‘Marco, did I
interfere when you got that piece of shit in Milan? What do you mean
not the one?’
‘Our vamp is older,
greyer, you know...shrivelled prune type face.’
She turned and looked
at them, ‘So who’s this?’
‘Must be a random.’
Turning back she smiled
and in a mocking voice said, ‘Poor baby, chose the wrong gig to
just wander into did we? What’s your name?’ She eased her hand
away slightly.
‘Thomas,’ he
spluttered.
‘A nice name. Well
Thomas...’ she said it like she was trying to swallow some
unpalatable meat, ‘goodbye!’
‘Thank you.’ Thomas
said weakly, his vision dark, his hearing fading.
‘Thank you?’
‘Yes...I thought you
would set me free....not in this way...I was...half right.’
She pulled the knife
out and let the body fall backwards, the corpse disintegrating as it
hit the hard concrete.
‘Why do they all
fucking fall in love with me?’ she sighed and stood up brushing
herself down.
Andrea walked up behind
her and put his arm around her shoulders, ‘Why do you think we do
so well compared to the others? Every trap needs a honey.’
‘Don’t you mean
needs honey?’
‘No. I got it right
the first time.’
A tittering came from
behind them. Cristina turned and shouted, ‘Marco stop being a dick
and do something useful, like finding a broom for that mess! And
Cristiano! Find out where the hell our real guy got to!’
Marco muttered under
his breath, ‘You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.’
Her hand cuffed him
around the head, making his ears ring.
‘Hey!’ he shouted.
‘You wouldn’t want
me to catch you Marco, do you know what happened to the last guy?’
She put her arm around
him as they all moved back to the door, quiet laughter filling the
murky air.
THE END
**************************************
This story was written after I was lucky enough to go and see Lacuna Coil live. They were totally amazing, and it was the best gig I have ever seen. They were as good in person as one their albums and I really hope I get to see them again. I kept thinking about the gig and thought that this was a fitting way of paying tribute. I thought they might like the idea if ever they read it themselves at least.
Lacuna Coil are : Cristina Scabbia, Andrea Ferro, Cristiano Migliore, Marco Biazzi, Marco Coti Zelati and Cristiano Mozzati.
