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What Happens in Perth Stays in Perth

A little past 3 o'clock in the morning, Sunday, 21st December, 1997

Ben was walking, breathing heavily, holding onto Daniel's upper body and Chris was holding onto Dan's legs. Sangria was close behind them monitoring the entire area with fox-like eyes.

The young men huffed languorously as they made their way to the tour bus under the cover of the clearest night they had seen all month. What a waste of stars, Chris thought, looking up into the hole-punched black paper as he tripped over a dip in the ground.

"Watch it, mate," whispered Ben. He almost wobbled over when Chris lost his footing for a second.

"Sorry, mate." Chris tightened his grip on Dan's legs as they hurriedly crab-walked the rest of the way to the bus, their muscles aching from carrying their best mate's lifeless and heavier-than-usual body.

"Be very careful with him, guys. If he spits up it's gonna be a mess to clean up." Sangria gently warned as they finally reached the door of the tour bus. "Here's what you're gonna do. You guys take your buddy into the bus, put fresh clothes on him, clean him up a little, put him in his bunk, give him an extra blanket, he's gonna get very cold very easily. After that you two clean up and get dressed--all the bloody clothes, put them in a plastic garbage bag. I'll take them and burn them.

John is still asleep inside the venue. After I undo all the enchantments I cast over the area, I will gather him and bring him back to your bus. Be ready for my knock, I don't like waiting around. Not even for two Aussie hotties like you." Sangria winked, blew them a flirty kiss and then vanished in a flash.

Ben's shoulders slumped, "Oh my God! Chris, is this all a bloody f--king dream? Please, tell me it is, mate."

Chris let go of one of Dan's legs and wiped at his forehead with his arm. "Correction--a bloody f--king nightmare. Mate, I'm still processing it all. We need to do what she told us to do. That's all I can tell you for certain right now."

"Right," Ben nodded. He laid Dan's upper body slowly down onto the ground and reached into his pocket for the key. He unlocked the sleek and shiny door of the tour bus. Chris opened it up nice and wide and then the boys hauled their friend onto the bus.

They did everything Sangria instructed and just as Chris was sealing up the bag full of bloody clothing they heard a knock on the tour bus's door.

The blonde vampiress was holding John on top of her shoulders and neck as if he were a man shawl. It was quite a sight to see. A hot grunge-rock Amazonian goddess of the dead, cold night.

The boys turned further into the bus and got out of her way. She laid John down onto a small sofa and began to undo the tight duct tape surrounding his mouth and head, wrists and ankles. She used her fangs like a pocket knife and within seconds the caring manager was unbound and sprawled out on the sofa, still sleeping unawares.

Sangria shook her messy blonde waves back and motioned for Chris to give her the bag. It was back to business.

"Alright, boys. This is where I leave you, for now. Be sure to take extra special care of him for the next forty-eight hours. He'll need blankets, like I said, to be laid gently down in bed, his head elevated slightly, to avoid any unnecessary leakage. No loud noises or bright lights, in fact, keep his room as dark as you can. Put shades on him when you go outside, no matter what time of day. Make sure one of you is sitting next to him on the plane home.

I'll be checking into the Sofitel in Darling Harbour on Wednesday, so I'll be in touch with you shortly about your friend's future. Bye, bye, boys. And remember: what happens in Perth, stays in Perth."