Rabbit Blood

Chapter 13 - Stars In Their Eyes

Leslie attended a technical rehearsal the day before the show proper. Contestants came here by appointment, one at a time, as Charlie and Vaggie didn't want them knowing (and potentially sabotaging) each other's performances.

Already they'd set up the collapsible tables and chairs for the viewing audience. The second bar was operational, and the stage now had a metal pole in the center, running far, far up into the ceiling. Apparently Alastor put it there, the same way he pulled the new front desk into the building. But that was days ago. Today, for Leslie's tech run, she needed music and a few colored lights. A spotlight wouldn't be necessary, she assured Chaggie - her movements were difficult to follow, so she could go without it. She ran through her routine for them, avoiding the pole. Afterwards, Charlie clapped and sang her praises so highly that Leslie was almost uncomfortable; she wasn't that good.

"I'm not that good."

"Hey, you were in time, that's all I care about," Vaggie said, making notes on a piece of paper. "You'll know nearer the time when you go onstage. Hope that's OK."

"That's fine."

"We might play your music a bit louder," Vaggie went on thoughtfully, "so we don't hear so much thudding around."

"I was thudding around?"

"It's an old stage," Charlie assured her, "just extra noisy, is all!"

Leslie stepped down and shook their hands, and then gave a thumbs-up to the demons behind the lights. She'd once had her turn at crewing for stage performance, and knew how important the role was. You didn't overlook those people behind the scenes: they made it all happen.

o - o - o - o - o

Leslie felt a creeping anxiety the entire working day of the event. She couldn't explain it. She'd performed in front of people before, many times, and taught others to do the same. Maybe she expected the audience to be hostile. The denizens of Hell. Any old bastard - including the customers of Hades - could wander in off the streets and watch her. And why was she doing it? To make Husk happy, and by proxy, to make Alastor happy.

When they finished, Mr. Rapier helped to close up the restaurant, and she was free by 7pm. Hoping to shake off some nervous energy, Leslie jogged home, and ignored a giraffe-demon yelling "Yeah, fight the power!" from the opposite sidewalk. She went to her room, changed into a long shirt and leggings, and did jumping jacks. Finally, she reported to the reception hall. Most of the contestants were there, milling around, warming up. The judges were present: Blitzo, talking shop with Charlie, and a pair of imps holding hands - actually showing affection! Leslie hadn't seen an honest display of love since, well, Charlie and Vaggie's private kiss. It was quite moving, and it made her smile.

Leslie knew barely anything about imps, but she knew that, unlike sinners and a certain class of overlords, they could reproduce. She knew this because of a jog to Imp City, two miles each way, where she'd seen an impish mother and her offspring. The ability to have children was an odd trade-off for immortal life, Leslie thought, but maybe it was worth it.

Shaking away such ruminations, she went to find Angel Dust and make conversation.

o - o - o - o - o

Thirty minutes to go, and Leslie completed her self-appointed task of lighting the centerpiece candles on each table. She surveyed the demons who'd come to watch. The event drew a bigger crowd than she expected, but not enough to fill the hall. Most demons stood at the bar, behind which Husk surreptitiously accepted bets.

"Tova i malŭk podarŭk ot men," said a squat, peanut-shaped demon, slipping cash over the table, adding in the same Eastern-european accent, "It's Dragomir."