Welcome to the Show: 17 Horror Stories – One Legendary Venue Page 10

  Jessica began a hushed prayer, speaking rapidly.

  “You think God hears you? Hmm? Do you think a tongue that spits hellfire can raise a voice to be heard in Heaven?”

  Jessica’s prayer broke and dissolved into sobs and gasps for air.

  “The book of James is fairly compact. It only contains five chapters and covers roughly three pages. The author didn’t even consider himself important enough to claim an identity beyond ‘James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ.’ Still, written in those few pages is one of the greatest lessons I ever learned, Jessica. Would you like to hear it?”

  She looked up at Harvey, her lip quivering. She nodded her head.

  “James says in chapter three: The tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.”

  “Okay . . . ” Jessica managed.

  “Your tongue sets lives on fire. Every word you put out into the world is loaded with consequences. Can you see that?”

  “Yes?”

  “No. I don’t think you can. Not yet. But I’ll show you.” Harvey’s thumb brushed over the textured grip of the pistol.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” Jessica said.

  “I’m not here to hurt you, darlin’.” Harvey pulled back the hammer until he heard it click. The sound was amplified by the tension that hung between them.

  Tears broke and streamed down Harvey’s face. It pained Jessica to see, and she wanted to take up her towel and wipe away that sadness, but she couldn’t move. She could only watch. Harvey rested his chin on the barrel. He swallowed hard.

  “Your words have power. I need you to know that. Your words took my daughter away from me. Our family home became a crime scene and my wife couldn’t see it as anything else after that, no matter how hard I worked to erase what had happened. She eventually left, and I couldn’t blame her. My words weren’t powerful enough to make her stay.”

  The door opened. Ben sniffed as he walked into the room, slapping a small stack of bills against the palm of his hand. “Payout from the door tonight was—”

  “Ben. I need you to do me a favor, son.” Harvey pointed the gun at him but kept his eye on Jessica. “I need you to go to the bar and I need you to call the police. Tell them to come right away. Tell them there’s a man with a gun and nothing left to lose. Can you do that?”

  Ben didn’t speak a word. He backed out of the room and pulled the door closed.

  “I don’t want you to hurt anybody, Harv. Please. We’ll get rid of the gun and I’ll tell the cops Ben was being crazy. He’s so fucked up on coke right now, they won’t believe anything he says. Please, Harv.”

  “Shhh. Watch.” Harvey pointed the gun toward the ceiling and took a deep breath.

  “Harvey, no!” Jessica closed her eyes.

  “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Please. I need you to watch this. I need you to understand what words can do. What fire can do. Please don’t let this all be for nothing, huh?” Harvey let his mouth hang open with the last word. He slid the barrel into his mouth, scraping his teeth. Jessica watched.

  The note was still folded on the table, but the smooth white paper was now dotted in red. Jessica reached across the table and picked it up. She unfolded it carefully and read what Harvey had written.

  Ben shook as he approached the green room. His breathing was heavy and his vision was fading white and he thought he might pass out soon. He rested his head on the door and closed his eyes. He could hear Jessica inside.

  He listened to the girl crying from the other side of the door for some time.

  MASTER OF BEYOND

  Glenn Rolfe

  THURSDAY 2:55 AM

  The sight of the Ouija board spilled a trail of spiders down Jillian’s spine. She wanted to tell Sean to put it back, to forget about this, but Cindy and Coop looked so damned excited, she kept her thoughts to herself.

  “Yes,” Coop said. “Let’s talk to Satan!”

  “Our luck we’ll just get Jeff,” Sean replied as he pulled out the board and planchette.

  “Who?” Cindy asked.

  “Our first maintenance guy. He was a grouchy old bastard,” Coop told her.

  “Cindy,” Jillian said. “How could you forget? Remember, he used to tell you to call him Thunderlips?”

  Cindy and Sean cracked up. Jillian used the light moment to scooch closer to Coop. He smelled amazing.

  Don’t get any ideas, she reminded herself. Cooper Murray was pure, unadulterated trouble. She’d already made the mistake of making out with him on New Year’s Eve. Still, she hated messing with occult crap. Even if it was supposed to be a toy. It felt blasphemous, not fun.

  Sean set four black candles around the room: one on top of his record player to the right, one on the filing cabinet on the left side of the room, and two on the front corners of his desk. He shut off the lights and rejoined them around the board.

  “Jill,” Sean said. “I know how hot you are for Coop, but we need to stay in our places. Move back to your corner.”

  Her face flooded with warmth as she did as Sean said.

  “It’s okay, Jill,” Coop said. “I’ll be right here.” He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze.

  Sean designated himself the medium. No one argued.

  Things were going fine until Jillian, her fingers fluttering above the planchette, felt something cold wrap around her fingers and flutter up her arms.

  “Oh,” she whimpered, pulling her hand back.

  “What is it?” Cindy asked.

  “Come on, Jill,” Sean whined. “Would you put your hands back on. We were just getting it going.”

  “No, no I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  She climbed to her feet and hurried out the door. As she stepped into the hall outside Sean and Coop’s office, the lighting fixture above her head began to flicker and sway, casting amorphous shadows across the walls. Looking up, she nearly tripped at the top of the stairs. Her hand landed on the red fire alarm. She worried she’d set it off, but then, looking at its rough edges and chipped paint, she wondered if it even worked.

  She hurried downstairs. The closed-up bar was lit only by the exit sign near the front door. Her nerves on edge, Jillian grabbed a bottle of vodka from behind the bar, took two big swigs, and pulled her keys from her purse. She paused at the door, listening for their laughter upstairs, but it was silent. Somehow that seemed worse.

  She headed out into the night and went straight home.

  ***

  “Jill,” Coop said. “have you seen Sean this morning?”

  “No, but I think I heard him moving around in his office. I figured he had some two-bit floozy in there. I’ve had enough of opening doors to half-naked women who have no class and even less self-respect.”

  Coop leaned on her desk. “God, I love you. When are we gonna go to bed together?”

  “Probably already did in your dreams last night.” She winked at him and went back to her Rolodex. “Listen, get up there and see if he’s okay. I have a few more calls to make this morning to secure Bad Obsession—”

  “Whoa, secure? I thought we already had them?”

  “Don’t freak on me. Jesus, they’ll be here. The Sheraton on Bellevue had to close down due to that accident. I’m sure you heard about it, right?” She waited, but Coop seemed oblivious. “Well, there was a city bus. Driver had a stroke, crashed the bus into the lobby of the hotel and set the damn place on fire.”

  “Oh shit,” he said.

  “Yeah, oh shit. I’ve been hustling to find new accommodations pretty much since I got word of the closure, thank you very much. There’s just some last minu
te minutiae that I need to nail down before they arrive tomorrow.”

  Coop stood and sighed. “Well, shit. Don’t scare me like that, huh?”

  He walked around the desk and leaned toward her cheek.

  “Don’t even think about it, Coop. Not after last time.”

  He straightened up and smirked. “Look, I thought we were past that?

  “Hmm . . . ”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, peace, all right? By the way, you missed out last night.”

  She didn’t want to hear about that damned Ouija board. The creepiness stuck to her last night and followed her into her dreams.

  “That’s okay, Coop. I don’t need a recap. I’m sure you guys had a good laugh at me running off like that.”

  “We made contact.”

  The words froze her veins.

  ***

  Coop got a kick out of Jillian’s nervousness over the board. Hell, he’d been a little creeped out himself when Eiddam said, “Hello.” At first, he was certain it was Sean, but when the candle flames wavered and then suddenly blew out, they all shrieked before cracking up in the dark.

  It was black at the top of the stairs. When the light bulb crunched under his boots, he laughed. Maybe it was old Jeff’s spirit in here last night. Breaking shit, so they’d still need him.

  When Coop opened the door to find his partner sitting in his chair, hands folded on the desk, staring straight ahead with glowing white eyes, he nearly stumbled back into the hall. Unfortunately, his body moved into the room involuntarily, and the door slammed shut behind him.

  ***

  Jillian hated that she still wanted to be with Cooper, but she’d be damned if she’d make the same mistake twice. It’s why she was so good at her job—she needed to focus on work to not think about Coop. His dastardly good looks and charm made him the quintessential “heartbreaker.” Pat Benatar had definitely made his acquaintance at some point.

  After locking down the Bad Obsession contracts, getting the hotel arrangements set for the band, crew, and that of the MTV crew, Jillian called the office to tell the boys the good news.

  “Just thought I’d let you guys know we’re all good for tomorrow.” She waited. “What? No applause? No, ‘Hell yes?’”

  They remained silent. She hated when they put her on speaker.

  “Hello?’

  “That’s perfect,” Sean said. “Could you come up here for a minute? We have something we’d like to discuss with you.”

  He sounded strange. His voice . . . like he was trying on an accent she couldn’t place.

  “Ah, actually I’m on lunch now. I’ll check in when I get back. Are you okay, Sean?”

  “Yes, that will be fine.”

  “Um, okay,” she said. “See you boys in an hour.”

  She didn’t wait for a response.

  ***

  At the bar, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with Sean. When Cindy arrived, she decided to get her thoughts on the matter.

  “Am I crazy?”

  Cindy tossed back her margarita, put her glass down, and said, “Well, sounds like Sean’s hungover. What’s new? Maybe he’s nervous about tomorrow. I know I would be.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right, but he . . . he just sounded like someone else.”

  “What about Coop?”

  “He didn’t say anything.”

  “Coop? Silent? That’s a first.”

  “I know,” she said. She thanked the tall red headed waitress for her beer and took a sip.

  Twisted Sister played from the speakers as Jillian fell silent.

  “Coop mentioned that you guys met Egor or something last night,” Jillian said.

  Cindy bit her lip, her gaze cast down at the cross pendant on her necklace.

  “What? Was it really that freaky?”

  “I . . . ” Cindy started. “No . . . it was just Sean and Coop fucking around. You’re lucky you left. They had a blast at my expense, dumb shits.”

  “Assholes,” Jillian said.

  “Well, hey, if you still feel weird about Sean and Coop just head home. You said you secured everything for tomorrow’s show, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, then fuck it. They fuck off all day and night, screwing whoever they want, snorting whatever they want. You’re clean as a whistle and do most of the damn work here. The Shantyman is packed again because of you. You do your job and do it fucking well. See what’s up, and call it an early day, so we can have a late night.” Cindy smiled.

  “I think I will.” Jillian held her drink up. “Cheers!”

  “That’s the fucking spirit.”

  They clanged their glasses.

  “To tomorrow,” Jillian said.

  “To rock n’ roll and the future success of The Shantyman . . . thanks to you!”

  ***

  “Sorry, friend, but some of us just aren’t cut out for this kind of power,” the demon in possession of Sean Reilly spoke.

  “Sean, what’s wrong with you? Your eyes . . . ”

  Coop’s spine stiffened as his feet left the ground. His broad shoulders drew back, pulled by an unseen force, stretching his skin, muscle, and tendons to the point of breaking. He screamed.

  “What is this?”

  “You are not necessary,” the demon known as Eiddam said.

  The white light from his eyes blazed within the office causing the blind and pathetic fool before him to cry out.

  Eiddam watched with pleasure. The human’s arms ripped free of his body and thumped to the floor. Obscene and intoxicating, Eiddam sucked in the blood, pain, and torment—an airborne pathogen. Perfection.

  The human’s wails reached their crescendo and then ceased; the sound of ruined flesh hitting the floor in a torrent of wet thuds was a symphonic masterpiece.

  When the woman, this . . . Jillian, returned, she would accept his gift or suffer the same consequence.

  In the rooms below, they gathered, ingesting spirits and carrying on, quenching appetites that would make Dionysus proud, but Eiddam would not reveal himself tonight.

  The show was to be the Master’s coup de grâce.

  Earth would meet its future. Blood would fill the streets, and the Master’s army would relish humanity’s defeat.

  When the girl never bothered to come back, Eiddam sealed the door and slumbered. He would need the rest for tomorrow’s grand event.

  FRIDAY

  Jillian arrived at The Shantyman just before eleven in the morning. Luckily, she’d stuck to the beer last night. Her hangover was minimal. As expected, Sean and Coop were nowhere to be found, but she was too preoccupied directing various lighting guys and managers to worry about either of them. Cindy was right. She was the reason the club functioned at a level of professionalism not matched by any of its local competition. And as much as Sean and Coop liked to screw around, they always came through when it mattered most. They’d be here. Until then, she would be in charge.

  Bad Obsession arrived promptly at five. The MTV crew, shortly after.

  Jillian had everyone set up and ready to roll by 6:30 pm. Headbanger’s Ball would shoot the band’s act and cut and clip the performance for tomorrows broadcast as they saw fit.

  The line of people waiting to get in wrapped around the block. This was the biggest night in The Shantyman’s history.

  Where the fuck are they?

  “There you are,” Cindy said, pushing past a group of big-haired blonde dudes that eye-fucked her as she stepped past. “Excuse me, fellas.” She smiled and ignored their come-ons.

  “Got a place we can have a smoke and actually fucking hear each other?” Cindy asked.

  “My office, come on,” Jillian said. “Mark?” She yelled to Mark Remme, one of their assistant managers and lead light engineer.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m taking five before we get this party started. I’ll be in my office if you need me, ‘kay?”

  “Sure thing, Jill. Have you see
n or heard from Sean or Coop yet?”

  “No, but they’ll be here. Did you try upstairs?”

  “Yeah, the door’s been locked all day. I tried my key and it didn’t work. They must have changed out the lock.” A hot little brunette in a leather mini skirt and leopard-print halter top handed Mark a beer. He smirked, accepting the pint, looked back to Jill and shrugged.

  Jillian winked and waved as she grabbed Cindy’s hand and led her through the growing throng to her back office, “Dancing on Glass” followed them down. “Oh my God!” Cindy squealed. “New Crüe!”

  She was the biggest slut for the boys in Mötley. She claimed to have fucked bassist Nikki Sixx while doing lines with the band last Christmas at some recording studio in Canoga Park.

  “This is my record!” Cindy said, shaking her ass all way down the hall and into Jillian’s office. “Care if I do a couple lines?” she asked, reaching for her purse.

  Jillian pulled out a pack of Camel Lights and handed one to her. Cindy took the cigarette, set it on the desk and went for the blow again.

  “Cindy, come on,” Jillian said, lighting her smoke and then Cindy’s. “I need you for a few minutes.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said. “The night is young.” She smiled and took a puff. “So, where the fuck are Sean and Coop?”

  “I told you, they’ve been M.I.A. all day. I’ve been too busy making all this happen to chase them down.” Jillian sat behind her desk, and put her Minnie Mouse ashtray where they could both use it. Flicking the ash, she continued. “I called upstairs twice, called them each at home at least five times apiece. Nothing.”

  “Odd. Where do you think they are?”

  She was about to answer when the phone rang, startling them both.

  “Hello?”

  “I missed you last night.”

  She set her cigarette in the ashtray and covered the phone with her hand. “It’s Sean,” she whispered.

  “I was tired. I had an early start today, so I went home.”

  “Come to my office.”

  She hated the sound of his voice. What the hell was up with that accent?