Tanaka Auditorium
Before
Tanaka Auditorium was standing room only, which was saying something considering the size of the theater. As private events went, it was huge. Tom had relayed that the tech giant had hired Clarissa as a perk for the employees who’d worked to develop some sort of new gadget that would give the iPhone a run for its money. They’d certainly gone all out.
At the moment, Blue Radio was opening for her. She waited backstage, using her last moments before the show to center herself. Out of nowhere, a sophisticated-looking woman in a light gray business suit appeared beside her. Before Clarissa could say a word, the stranger reached out and plucked a hair from her head.
“Wow! What the fuck?” Clarissa snapped. The redheaded woman started to walk away, but Clarissa grabbed her arm. “Who the hell are you?”
“Hair and makeup,” the woman said, her voice gritty and low like she might have a cold. “Cleaning up a stray.”
“Next time ask permission before you touch me.” She released the woman’s elbow and searched for Tom. He was going to get an earful over this. It wasn’t about the hair. Everyone knew she counted on these last moments of meditation to do her best work. Time alone to center herself was part of her creative process. Allowing a stranger backstage this close to the performance completely threw her off.
When she couldn’t find Tom, she turned back to explain the rules to the woman herself, only she’d disappeared. Probably knew she was in trouble. She’d talk to Tom about it after the show. Whatever company she worked for, they needed to know they couldn’t bring in new blood at zero hour.
For the rest of the opening act, she pushed the incident from her mind, instead choosing to focus on the show ahead of her. By the time Blue Radio left the stage and Tom appeared again, she’d forgotten all about it. She watched him exchange hand signals with the soundman while tech readied the stage. The lights dimmed. At once, the roar of the crowd became deafening.
White and red pyrotechnics blazed to life with the opening beats and her dancers flooded the stage. Their black leotards were designed to give the impression of scales, and they weaved like snakes, dancing their way into the hearts of the audience. Her people were the best in the business. Some looked positively boneless.
Her latest album, The Serpent’s Strike, was all about being bitten by love, how the poison got into your blood and changed you forever. How fitting that she should be performing in London. The only man she’d ever thought she could love lived here, and she’d never succeeded in curing herself from his romantic venom.
When the stage manager waved a finger, she strode onto the stage in a black snakeskin bustier, a skirt that desperately wanted to be a belt, and a train that weighed hundreds of pounds and had to be carried and positioned by a second set of dancers.
Bring the night! She sang and the crowd went wild. She broke into her dance, singing the series of notes that led into the first verse. Her voice ignited the air around her, syncing the dancers with her body and making the room twinkle with living energy.
Clarissa was a witch and her voice was her wand. Tonight, as she did every night, she would take her audience on a magical journey they would never forget.
Your night, it crawls to meet
the darkness inside me.
Don’t you know that your energy
is the thing making me me?
The train she was wearing detached and rose behind her as if carried by a breeze. As she sang, it folded itself into an origami beast, a dark sparkling dragon with huge wings that flapped above her and the dancers. The crowd went crazy. Lights flashed as they tried their best to capture a picture that would do it justice. When she sang again, they sang along with her.
I was once a dying thing.
You helped me to find my wings.
Though you were my everything,
I broke away and felt the sting.
Free from you, free from us.
Free to rule the skies above.
Bring on the night.
I will be its queen.
Bring on the night.
I will rule the wind.
Bring on the night.
I welcome it. I’m ready. I’m ready.
Something was wrong. During this part of the performance, the origami dragon was supposed to fly over her head, circle the crowd, and then return to the stage where she would pretend to slay it with her dance moves. It wasn’t happening. She kept moving, performing the dance steps as always, but her magic drained from the room like the rush of water from an unplugged bathtub. Her throat caught, constricted. It felt like she’d swallowed a bee.
In abject horror, she cast a frantic, desperate look toward Tom backstage and patted her throat. All he could do was spread his hands and yell into his headset.
Fabric rustled above her. She tipped her head back just in time to watch hundreds of pounds of black twinkling cloth give up its dragon form and drop, flattening her to the stage.