When the flames went down, everything launched into blackness again.
“Die every death. Die every death.” The low voice came through the dark, whispering into the microphone, and we all screamed. The crowd began to chant along with him. Die every death. Die every death.
The flames shot high again as the band launched into “I Ignore Your Screams.” Fern and I started freaking out, along with every other person in the room.
The band played incredibly, with Balthazar looming tall and angry above the crowd. He swung around his battle-axe, he growled and paced, he stalked across the stage. The skull began bubbling the dark red blood from its eyes, and Balthazar filled his hands with it and threw it at the crowd. They played every single song I could possibly have wanted to hear. Sometimes people would climb up onto the stage to dive and crowd-surf, and Balthazar would go up behind them and shove them roughly back into the crowd, glowering and snarling.
It was absolutely amazing.
THIRTY-TWO
We should have left after the show, along with everyone else who started filing out. We should have gotten in a taxi and gone back to the bus station to wait for the late bus home.
“Let’s try to meet them,” I said instead. The house lights had come on, and the crowd pressed towards the back of the room and the exit doors. The room stank of sweat and smoke, and the crew guys were beginning to leisurely tear down DED’s equipment.
“How?” Fern asked.
“We’ll ask them.” I gestured at the guys onstage.
“What about the CDs?”
“Forget them. If we meet them we can tell them about the band. They probably won’t care anyway. But we can ask them how to get a record deal and stuff like that. Get some advice.”
“That’s a good idea.” Fern and I walked up to the stage.
“Hey,” I called up to one of the guys. He looked down at me. “We want to meet the band.”
The guy grinned at me. “You want to talk to that dude over there,” he said, pointing. There was a door beside the stage. In front of it stood a large, fat guy with long hair. In front of him stood a group of girls, all in short skirts and dresses.
“Great,” I muttered. “There’s a bunch of skanks and they’ll think we’re no better than they are.”
“We can try,” Fern said. She took my arm and we went to the back of the group of girls.
“C’mon, Jerry. Pleeeeease?” One of the girls was flirting with the fat guy. “Last time I came through I hung with the band. Sid will want to see me again.”
The big guy grinned at her, obviously enjoying this whole thing. I was disgusted to see his teeth were brown and rotten. “Sid won’t remember you, sweetheart,” he said, moving his eyes across each of the girls.
“Sure he will.”
The girls started to talk all at once, each of them insisting they knew someone in the band, and all of them were being so flirtatious with this toad. I was completely confused by it.
“Jerry, if you get us backstage, we’ll make it worth your while,” purred one of the girls, sliding her arm around her friend. Both of them smiled at him seductively.
“That’s what I like to hear.” Jerry laughed. “C’mon back.”
The other girls wailed in disappointment as he allowed the two girls past him and through the door. The group began to disperse.
“I’m not going to blow that disgusting guy just to meet a bunch of assholes,” I heard one of them say to her friend in disgust as they walked past us.
“I don’t like this,” Fern said.