Part 61: That Night, During the Concert
Nepotism steps out from under me, extending the shiny tip of his sword. Solomon continues to go around and around, right arm raised. "This is bad," Nepotism shouts. "This is bad, real bad."
"What?" I demand, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to me. "What is so bad?"
Aiden Quartermass slowly strums, palm-muting to create a slow, melancholy punk ballad riff. “To love meee-ee is better than all things!" Solomon wails, resounding voice tickling every clitoris in the building. "Burning incense in the desert beneath the night stars, call me with a pure heart."
With a lurch, the suspended thing starts to fall. It's a massive structure of wood and gemstones. "The Serpent flame therein, thou... shall... come a little to lie... in... my booooosom."
It's a symbol... a cross... or no... a multicolored ankh... and a nude figure is bound across, arms extended along the branches, the head tied to be raised in the open eye at the top of the cross. The figure is a girl.
Kara.
"Shit!" I cry.
"For one kiss will thou then be willing to give all," Solomon cries.
Nepotism looks up and sees what I see. "Oh no," he whispers, words lost in the thunder of the crowd who now can see what is being revealed.
"Who... so... gives one part-i-cle of dust shall lose all in that hour."
Aiden Quartermass has spotted us. He's looking around for some kind of help, any of the SpectraCom thugs, but none are coming. Not yet at least. For now it's us and the band, and Kara hanging 30 feet above.
"Ye shall gather goods and store of women and spices," Solomon croons, still spinning on the center Sephiroth, oblivious to us about to invade his stage. "Ye shall wear rich jewels! Ye shall exceed the nations of the Earth in splendor and pride... but... always... in the love of me!"
Kara must be drugged, she isn't even struggling against her bonds. Large red circles have been placed over both hands and feet, and another about her waist, large enough to cover her entire pelvic region. Behind her erect head is a fourth red circle, extending up into the loop of the ankh.
"So shall ye come to my joy!" he sings, entirely motionless, but for his lips. "Lay now before me in single robe with rich headdress. I! LOVE! YOU! I yearn toooo yoooou!"
I’m up and running to help Kara, but a hand is on my shoulder, pulling me back. I spin, expecting Nepotism, and find myself staring into the chest of an enormous man with long arms and a long face. The scowl is none other than H.P. Lovecraft, the Scrubber called Armitage. The Scrubber lifts me off the ground
I should not be surprised that Nepotism Baldwin knows magick. He knows everything else. What’s more, I know if I’d simply paid attention, I’d probably know magick myself. I always thought it was horseshit. Apparently I was wrong. Nepotism chokes an unheard word whose force freezes the arm of the Scrubber as it moves to attack him. Without missing a step, the Scrubber pummels Nepotism with the other fist, discharging crackling blue energy from his long, knobby fingers.
Mephis Tyr comes from within Solomon’s temple, blasting at Armitage with his pistol. Nepotism tries to attack with the broadsword, but can’t connect. Armitage absorbs the bullets without a flinch, but turns to catch Mephis’s charge. A shoulder check sends Mephis on his back. Armitage tries to attack, but Nepotism shouts again. With the thunder of drums, I can’t hear what he says, but it’s clearly a spell with power over the Scrubbers. Armitage’s upper torso and head are frozen solid by the sound and shatter when Mephis knocks the body down. The pieces of Armitage look black and oily in the lights, reflecting the colors of the spinning spotlights. They melt quickly into the grating.
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