False kings and jealous gods

Chapter 3

Kill sweet desire, faith may numb the trial, but can you run all your life

Kill sweet desire, truth will make a liar, you can run but not hide

So run for your life

(Poets of the fall - Desire)

It seemed to be a banquet on the occasion of a merger of some companies, that Sybil didn't know about. Having left her grey cape in a speeder, she became an attractive young woman and even a droid at the entrance let her in without body searches. That's what beauty makes to men, even to iron ones, Sybil thought with laughter, carefully stepping in her ten centimeters high heeled shoes. In some houses, where she had to break into, sometimes she turned on holo-visors and watched brightly dressed and soigne rhatian women do the same. Now she tried to look as much royal and unapproachable as they did. If she only knew, how many discoveries and shocks awaited for her that evening!

There were a lot of people in the lounge that communicated, ate and drank from the rich tables. Nobody noticed a girl in a silver dress. Sybil knew she had to be very careful, but she also was very hungry all the time, so she couldn't help but come to one of the tables with food.

- Let me dine and wine you, - said a man of middle age, standing next to her with a glass of wine in his hand and with a bald patch on his head.

- Oh thank you, - the girl answered, taking a glass and in the same time scanning wine by a build-in to her wrist-watch device for finding something dangerous. Rhatians sometimes drugged women to make them more appeasable and agree to sex. However, this glass was clear and Sybil made a sip from it. The wine had a beautiful ruby color and tasted good.

- What is your name? - the man asked, but his question was destined to stay without an answer, because Sybil heard the most wonderful voice in the world, and it belonged to a singer who performed on stage with his band.

Having turned around to see what angel might have such a sweet baritone, she saw a tall fair-haired man of indefinite age in a white singlet, black pants and dangling suspenders. His eyes were pencilled. He was very attractive and literally irradiated waves of sexuality around and all the present people looked at him only, but the girl didn't linger her eyes on him for long, because the first shock of this evening waited for her. There among the musicians was none other than her friend Yakko! He looked excellently, like a real rock star. He wore a black singlet that demonstrated his muscular chest, and his tattooed hands were holding a guitar he played. Here comes a conspirator! Sybil knew he had studied to play guitar, but he never told a word about him playing in a real band that had performances!

The girl had no time to think about what she was going o say to her friend about his secretive behavior, and a new discovery revealed. Next to Yakko, also with a guitar in his hands there on stage was a new Sybil's acquaintance, a blond guy from a flyer, that had hit her! She even took a closer look, but there couldn't be mistake, because his face somehow just imprinted on her eye retina. Unlike informal Yakko, the blond wore classical black shirt and trousers, a jacket and a black and white striped tie. Everything about him and his blinding sunny smile somehow made Sybil very excited. It was hard to breath, as if someone took all the air off the room.

- Excuse me, - she muttered and her legs themselves brought her to the stage, where a person interesting for her stood.

The blond played with such a virtuosity and his guitar produced such wonderful sounds, the Sybil felt fascinated. Besides, the guy stood with his legs wide moved apart and shook his long white hair in time with music, so it was a real show. She felt on overwhelming desire to know what this hair was like to touch; it must had been as soft as silk... All these feelings were so unexpected and amazing, that Sybil felt like in one of those dreams. She couldn't take her eyes off the guitar-player. Even the voice of the singer with made up eyes was not able to draw back her attention. She looked neither at a skinny bass player with a mohawk on his head, who smiled like he had just won a billion of Maalakh credits, nor at a bold and very thoughtful man over keyboard, nor at a long-haired drummer player.