shadows leaving the circle speechless and silent.
After what seemed like an eternity Mo became aware that all the eyes were fixed on either him or Lee. He looked around gravely and drew in a sober breath. Finally Jordan broke the silence.
“Dude, what are you gonna do?”
“I donno,” Mo replied distantly.
Jordan said sympathetically, “If you need anything, just let me know…”
“I say we fight back, we can’t just take this laying down,” suggested Lee in a sharp voice.
“Lee’s right.” It was EmJay that spoke now. “You guys are amazing and you could mop up the stage with that weirdo.” As she spoke her gaze fell on Moses and her eyes continued to console him long after her short soliloquy had ended.
There was a pause again as Mo stared blankly into the fire, deep in thought. “Looks like we’re playing the Kings of the Pacific.”
• • •
The fire had died down to a glow of embers and the group had dispersed, leaving Moses, Lee, and EmJay alone on the beach.
“What just happened?” asked Mo rhetorically, as if in a daze. He seemed to have been particularly shaken by the mysterious challenger, and had been mostly silent since his disappearance.
EmJay sat next to him, now that everybody had gone, and said comfortingly, “You guys are a lighthouse on this coast, Moses. It’s not just how you play your instruments, it’s who you are. You’re a beacon of light standing up to the gathering darkness. You can totally handle whatever this creep could possibly have in store. You guys are brave…”
“He was like a shadow, I couldn’t read him. Couldn’t look into his eyes. It was like there was no soul there. No humanity…”
EmJay smiled back encouragingly and continued, “The thing about light is, it shatters the darkness every time. The light always drives away the dark. Every time.”
• • •
“I’ll be home in a few,” Moses said over his shoulder as Lee began to turn onto the gravel road that led up to the boys’ house.
“Aight, later! Good night EmJay!” Lee replied as he faded into the darkness.
EmJay replied from the back of Mo’s bike, perched on the pegs of his back wheel, “Night!”
As they pulled up to her house, EmJay hopped off of the pegs and waited expectantly as Mo propped his bike up against the giant oak tree in her front yard. Mo then turned to see her smiling at him with her enormous brown eyes. The light from the street lamp was casting a shadow so that Moses was nearly invisible while EmJay was bathed in the tinted yellow light.
“Thanks for everything,” she whispered as she met him in the shadow and wrapped her skinny arms around him. As Mo returned the embrace he replied with a silent smile. As they hugged, in the shadow of the tree darkened to near pitch black by the light of the street lamp, EmJay’s lips found Mo’s. The kiss was nothing more than a peck but was all that either of them had ever wanted. After one last embrace Moses waited to see that she made it into her house safely and again tore off into the darkness.
• • •
The Pub was a venue much like any other, usually consisting of a stage and an open floor for the crowd. The Kings of the Pacific Battle of the Bands competition, however, had transformed the place to the point of non-recognition. There were now four stages set up, one on each wall of the square room. Each stage was a square 20 feet by 20 feet and held a different band. Located in the center of the room was a platform upon which there were three judges. The rest of the open floor space was packed with bodies who were gathered to see the cut throat battle of the bands.
Each band had been given an hour to set up their stage, the only regulations being that The Pub provided the sound system. NoCal had set up Lee’s drum set and had tacked a massive, tattered old American flag to the backdrop of their stage. The stage situated to the left of NoCal’s, however, held a microphone stand decorated to look as though it were made out of bones, sticking out atop a pile of what looked to be skulls. The backdrop was a giant poster, depicting a hooded figure with points of red light emulating eyes. There was a sinister looking fence that one might find in a graveyard running through the middle of the stage, separating it into a front and a back. The fence’s gates were ajar, swung outward creating a sort of funnel.
“Dude, where have I seen that backdrop before?” Mo asked Lee as they waited for the battle to begin. Three out of the four stages were occupied, leaving only the skull-laden one vacant.
“I donno, man, but they better hurry up or they’re not gonna make it in time for the show. That must be our masked challenger…” Lee mused. No sooner had he spoken then the lights went down and a hush fell over the crowd. As The Pub went silent the emcee wasted no time introducing the event.
“Welcome everybody, hope you found the place okay. Who’s ready for the eighth annual Kings of the Pacific Battle of the Bands?!” boomed a voice that the boys recognized from the local rock radio station. “We’re switching things up this year and it should be a good time. There will be four bands competing in the cut throat style battle. We’ll go in random order, giving each band one song. After each has played their chosen song the judges will chose which team to eliminate. The elimination will continue until there is one remaining band who will then be dubbed the Kings of the Pacific!
“Playing on the East stage will be Rotten Weasel Indicator; an Indie band from Sacramento.” The crowd gave a delayed cheer. “Playing on the West stage will be hometown heroes NoCal.” The crowd erupted into cheering as Lee thumped a couple heartbeats from behind his drum set. “On the South stage we have the So-Cal act, Caligirl.” More applause. “And performing on the North stage…” The announcer, standing on the stage to the left of NoCal was suddenly interrupted by a masked figure who strode across the stage, ripping the microphone out of his hand and growling in a painfully throaty voice, “Bloody…Deeeemonnnnn-ah”.
The hearts of both Moses and Lee sank as they recognized the unsettling mask from the bonfire. Bloody Demon was a notorious band shrouded by myth and legend. Having a ferocious reputation for their live concerts, they were a band who played mostly covers of all manner of hardcore and sharp edged gritty heavy metal. The band was like smoke; even the number of members was widely disputed. They featured mainly two vocalists and an unidentified number of screamers. There were sometimes one and sometimes two drummers and often two or three guitarists. The only members who were easily and widely recognized from show to show were the masked guitarist, the bass player, and the leading vocalists, one in particular by the name of Anne.
The boys watched, half in horror and half in awe as the stage was flooded by people. The drummer took his seat behind the drum set as two more guitarists took the stage behind where the masked guitarist stood. The bassist, a heavyset guy looking to be in his late teens stalked onto the stage, followed by the most prominent leading vocalist. He had long hair covering his eyes and was clad, as was the rest of the band, in all black. Anne was last to appear on the stage. She picked her way across the platform daintily and up the pile of skulls to the center mic stand as the crowd roared.
Anne was a slender girl, who had all the petite mannerisms of an innocent and mild mannered child. Even the way she carried herself across the stage was in denial of her presence amidst the rest of the dark scene. She had black tights on, leading up to a short red dress. Her hair was dyed reddish orange and her delicate facial features were decorated by a nose ring in one nostril and a small gage in both of her ears. On one of her ears she had what looked to be a small black devil horn piercing. She looked frail and as the boys watched, they found themselves doubting her reputation.
By now she had perched herself atop the mound of skulls. The crowd seemed to have a premonition of what was coming and went from a deafening buzz into a dead silence at the flick of her wrist. She held her hand out for what might have been four seconds and gave the crowd a clearly practiced smile. Her small lips curled into a cute grin as she held her palm out, waiting.
The silence was like a deep breath before a plunge and without warning she abruptly dropped her hand onto the microphone and heaved a scream that seemed physically impossible coming from someone of her stature. As she heaved the word “Blood” repeatedly the guitarists and drummer joined in, sending the audience into instant chaos.
• • •
“Wow, this chick is nuts…” said a girl as she pushed her way through the crowd toward the front.
“Yeah she is,” her friend yelled, competing with the din. “You’ve never seen Bloody Demon before?”
“No I’ve never been to a show of theirs, this stage setup is ridiculous…” the girl barked, bobbing her head as the song slowed and Anne began talking slowly, building back up to another chorus breakdown. “This should be a good show, I hope NoCal brought their big boy pants!”
• • •
Bloody Demon, as Mo and Lee began to realize, was very deserving of their mythologized status. Their stage presence was perfect and with the amount of musicians they had in their arsenal, they played flawlessly and were able to move around and put on a show. They continued through the rest of the song without so much as missing a breath, providing background screams every now and again and jumping all over their graveyard-esque stage.
When the last chord had faded from their
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