Beauties and the Beast (20 page)

Chapter Twenty Six

As the trio left the stage Diana and Angela moved closer together as Lucy faced them. He was not happy. They knew from the fire in his eyes. The fire that glowed in the oblong slits his pupils had transmogrified into.

His voice was soft, but it dripped sparks. “I'm most disappointed,” he said. “You told me you had, for once, a perfect cast. But they are flawed.”

Diana fidgeted. “I'm sorry, but their track records... you saw them. You saw the data.”

“And the data lied.”

“I thought Thornton was quite brilliant,” said Angela nervously sounding out the situation.

“So he was,” said Lucy with ominous softness. “But I wanted the trio.”

“What about Winter?”

“Flawed.”

“But just a little, I'm sure ...” Lucy's stare silenced her.

“You're sure of what?” he asked

“My instincts told me Winter would be fantastic the moment I set eyes on him,” said Angela. She stopped.

“And?” prompted Lucy.

Angela felt a ray of hope. “I could hardly keep my hands off him. We should give him a chance. With the right coaching he'd make the grade. I'm sure.”

“And you'd be the coach?” Lucy was taunting.

Diana tried to stop the impending disaster for her sister in crime. “You don't think personal feelings are clouding your judgement?” she asked urgently.

Angela thought and then answered. “I do want him, yes, I must admit that, but he's so young and has so much raw talent. I think it would a shame to let him go. I'm sure I could work miracles with him.”

Lucy's eyebrows rose. “Miracles! When did we move into the area of miracles?”

“You know what I mean,” said Angela softly, a flush on her face.

“Lucky for you I do,” said Lucy. “But I can't afford to make a mistake and taking on someone with mere potential
would
be a mistake. We will stick to standard operating procedure.”

“If we could pull it off though, we'd score a great coup,” persisted Angela.

She didn't see the irritation in his expression. Angela was intent on getting her own way. “I could mould him. He would be a sensation.”

Diana tried to help. “She could be right. And it is difficult to resist a temptation like that.”

Angela cut in eagerly. It was two against one now. “It wouldn't even be a gamble,” she said. “In a week I'd have him flawless.”

“I'm sorry, Angela. Winter is out.”

“Not even for a minor role?”

“We can't use him.” The voice now had an edge of steel.

“But ...”

The rest of her statement was left unsaid. Lucy pointed. Talons sprang from his hand. He raked them across Angela's face. Blood and puss mingled as she screamed. As her mouth opened the talons clawed between her lips and fastened onto her tongue. Soft, pink, pointed. Then it was ripped from her mouth and thrown onto the floor where it wriggled like a newly dead chicken.

The claws razed across Angela's face and body. The clothes ripped and burned. Blood and fire mixed. Diana stepped quietly out of the way. She had tried to help, but Angela's pride had come between them. Punishment was Lucy's right.

Boiling tears seared Angela's bloodied face. The smell of burning flesh assaulted Diana's nose. It was a delicious perfume. Angela's agony screamed through her eyes, but nothing but gurgles came from her mouth, which gushed with putrid blood.

“We can't use Winter, do you understand?” Lucy's voice was gentle, cajoling.

Angela's head nodded, blood flew into the air. It spattered over her golden hair. Lucy pointed to the still quivering tongue on the floor. “If you want to speak again, pick it up and eat it.”

Shaking uncontrollably Angela fell to the ground and picked up the soft, pink object. Kneeling, she raised it to her mouth.

“Stop!” Lucy's voice was more strident. Angela stared at him. She felt the rising of lust even through the agony. Lucy stood before her. His body grew and ripped through is clothes. The well-formed calves turned into sinewy muscled animal haunches. The twin phalluses pulsated in front of her. With a gurgling frown Angela fell on them taking each in turn into her hot and bloody mouth.

It was too much for Diana. With a mighty groan she joined Angela on the ground sharing in the majestic glory of her Lord. Lucy shouted with ecstasy as he thrust deep into the women. Then came the climax, the ejaculation of white hot lava, the stench of burning, and then the miracle of healing.

Lucy stepped back. The animal slid back into its shell. The clothes mended and he stood, barely a breath out of place.

Diana slumped on the ground, voiceless, but replete and Angela was whole again, whole, beautiful, and more respectful.

“So,” said Lucy. “Thornton?”

Angela stood and immediately picked up the tone. “He's perfect,” she said.

“Never has anyone been more perfect for a role,” agreed Diana.

Lucy cast an amused glance at Angela. “Well almost anyone,” he said. “I seem to remember one young woman who was destined for stardom the moment she... auditioned.”

A peal of genuine laughter rang from the blonde, her eyes mischievous, captivating as she recalled her first meeting with Lucy and Diana. It was in America, the land of the free.

Her hunger for cruelty and excess drove to wilder and wilder acts of debauchery. But the sweetness of her smile and innocent looks remained. Only those who had known her fury believed the stories that circulated. There was always a long line of men waiting to take up the reins, a line that never diminished.

The career their little angel had chosen was hard enough for her parents to bear, but when the stories began to appear in the gossip magazines. It became completely unbearable. They pieced together her past and knew deep inside that the stories, denied with wide-eyed indignation and a toss of her beautiful hair, were true.

It drove her father over the edge of sanity. He could no longer accept the girl the press depicted as his daughter. He killed his wife and then himself in a murder suicide. “Devil's spawn,” he had called her.

Angela remembered the moment with pride. How right he had been. She was on her way to visit them, to deny the latest scandal. She was about to knock on the door when she heard her father's squeal of anguish.

She realised he had already seen the magazine. The pornographic pictures, pictures so gross, that after the session even Angela has been satiated. She had crept to the lounge window and had watched from the window of their home as he shot his wife and then turned the gun on himself. She could have stopped the massacre, but she preferred to watch, enjoying pain she was seeing.

At the funeral her tears were so natural, and the grief so heart-rending that even those who had suffered at her hand, melted and loved her again.

Angela chuckled. “It was the performance of a lifetime,” she said.

“Indeed it was,” said Lucy, “the child actor reaching maturity.”

Diana smiled. “I could hardly keep my eyes off you from then on,” she said.

“And I didn't even know you existed.” Angela put her hand lovingly on Diana's shoulder.

Diana sighed. “Such was life.”

They both burst into laughter. Lucy joined in. “A talent worth nurturing,” he said. “The first recruit to my inner cabinet since, well since the beginning.”

Angela dipped her head in supplication. “An honour I will forever treasure.”

“You will indeed,” said Lucy.

Angela closed her eyes and lived those final days before she met her match and her master. The punishments she meted out became heavier. The pain she inflicted was sometimes fatal. Some people said she was insane, others said she was possessed. She was neither. She was simply a rare example of living evil. In an earlier time she would have burned as a witch - and with every justification.

Her mistake was to kill too slowly.

The screams of her victim, bound and naked, as she inflicted cut after cut onto his body, were too loud and went on for too long. She enjoyed this man who she seduced on his honeymoon and led unwitting to the web of a black widow spider. She stopped when he fainted only to start again when he awoke.

Her enjoyment was so intense that she was still cutting flesh and licking the blood when the police burst into her room.

This time the victim survived. The evidence was so overwhelming that even her wide and innocent eyes didn't help. She despaired of her freedom when the jury found her guilty.

But she had no need. For the first time in fifty years the State brought down the death penalty. There were too many stories, too many witnesses to pain.

She died well. Smiling to the last as the switch was pulled. She smelt the burning before she blacked out and was surprised that it was still there when she awoke.

She sighed at the fond recollection. Here, on this stage she had met Diana, the goddess who knew more about gratification that anyone Angela had ever known. She knew more about inflicting pain too. But every experience was exquisite.

Lucy had watched as Diana put the newcomer through her paces. The girl was perfection. Angela Caduti indeed, an angel fallen to join the others. She was almost kin. She was so wonderful, he needed little persuading by Diana to create the second trinity.

Angela looked fondly at her master and his right hand angel; Verdilet, the angel who fell with Satan, his own master of ceremonies. Theirs was a marriage made in Hell and it suited each of them.

Lucy sighed. “If only all recruitment were so easy,” he said.

“It was pleasing to know you had no doubts about me,” said Angela.

“Oh, I had my doubts,” said Lucy. “Never forget that. You were human, blurred with imperfection, a not quite flawless diamond.”

“But a diamond nevertheless,” whispered Angela.

“A diamond nevertheless,” repeated Lucy.

Diana snuggled closer to Angela. “I never had any doubts about you,” she said.

Angela looked into her eyes. “I know”, she said.

“So,” said Lucy, returning to the business in hand, “do we have doubts about our Mr Thornton?”

“None,” said Diana. “He will be a phenomenon.”

“He will be monumental,” said Lucy. “Your talent scouts were right about him at least.” He focused on Angela, who hung her head respectfully. “I'm sorry about Winter,” he said. “He is good I grant you that, but he is not flawless.”

“You have always been a perfectionist,” said Angela. “I should have known better.”

“And will in the future, I'm, sure.” There were maggots in his teeth as he smiled. “So Winter is out and Thornton is in. I take the decision on Finnegan is unanimous?”

“Absolutely,” said Angela.

“He was a total disaster,” added Diana. “I shall deal very harshly with whoever recommended him.”

“Good, good,” said Lucy. “Use your authority.”

“It's amazing he even got this far,” said Angela. “Imagine if he had actually got through.” A shudder of fear wracked her body.

“But he didn't,” said Lucy. “That's why we are here, to make the final judgement. And you, my closest associates, are here because of your uncanny assessment of character. Once again, you have once again proved my judgement to be infallible.”

“Still,” sighed Angela, “only one out of three...

“That,” said Lucy, wood sparks twinkling in his eyes,” as they say, is show business. Shall we proceed? Angela, would you mind fetching them back?

Angela smiled prettily. “Of course,” she said and making the most of her body movements she walked into the wings.

Lucy watched her appreciatively and then cast his over Diana. “You're a well-matched pair,” he said.

“Angela's easy to work with,” demurred Diana. “Always has been. Her enthusiasm when we gave her the job has never waned.”

“And I doubt it ever will. She's so attractive too - and always so... willing.”

Diana licked her lips. She knew how willing. “She is beautiful,” she said, finally. “But she needs to be watched.”

Lucy said nothing, but waited for her to continue.

“She is very persuasive - and she is inclined to let her personal feeling sway her.”

“Winter?”

“Exactly.”

“But she was punished, and she usually remembers her lessons.”

“For a while, she does,” corrected Diana. “Then she reasserts her power.”

“And she certainly has that,” concurred Lucy.

“That sort of power can be dangerous.”

Lucy's eyebrow rose again. It was a favourite mannerism. “Against me?”

“Against the system,” said Diana.

“I am the system,” said Lucy softly.

“You were beaten once.” Diana was taking a huge risk.

Lucy looked at her, anger flecking his eyes, but he subdued it. The defeat was not her fault. But it still smarted at times. He wanted it all, and all he got was the earth. A smile escaped his frozen lips. Still, it had been rewarding to see his meagre kingdom grow. The smile was wiped. “I shall keep an eye on her. This business is risky enough as it is. There's never a guarantee of success. We can't really have more than one... angel... can we?”

He burst into wild laughter. Diana held her breath. He could turn any way now hand out more pain or more pleasure. He stopped. His wildly rolling eyes slowed and he smiled. “This is nearly over. We can soon go home.”

Diana sighed. “Home; that would be nice...” Visions of heat and the noise of souls in torment took away her tensions.

Chapter Twenty Seven

In the Greenroom, there was agitation among the auditionees. They felt like victims and none was sure of what was coming next. The room looked the same, but was subtly different. There was the same food, same comfort. The food bars, with the disappearing corridors. But the clock was gone. So was the door that dominated the room, the wooden door to the room that promised so much.

Mickey noticed it first.

“How can they make a door disappear?” he asked.

“They seem to be able to do anything they like,” muttered Billy. He was more interested in the oysters. He filled a plate and sat at a table. Mickey continued to stare at the wall as Billy dug his fork into the oyster. He popped the mollusc into his mouth and bit. Then he screwed up his face and spat it out. “Jesus,” he said. “It's foul.”

Mickey laughed. “Can't have gone off in that time, let's have a look.” he inspected the plate. “They look all right,” he said.

“Well they taste bloody awful; here, have one.” He viciously forked an oyster and held it close to Mickey's mouth. The comic moved hastily away. “I'll take your word for it,” he said.

Thornton was studying the hot food counter. The jambalaya still looked exquisite, streaming under the bright light. He took a plate and scooped up a portion. He sniffed it appreciatively and took it to a table away from the others. But it was not far enough away from Mickey. His nostrils dilated. “Phew,” he said. “That smells as bad as Lucy's room.”

Thornton ignored him and dug into the delicious stew. But Mickey followed his nose to the table and then he stopped horrified. Thornton was hoeing happily into a plate of rotting meat and writhing maggots. He snatched the plate away and threw it onto the floor. “You can't eat that,” he shouted. “It'll poison you.”

Thornton's lower lip dropped in astonishment. “Jambalaya never hurt anybody,” he said. “What on earth's got into you?”

Mickey was mesmerised be the stinking mess on the floor. “Christ,” he said. “Just look at it.”

Billy was watching his oysters disintegrate into a sulphurous mass. But Mickey's cry pulled his attention away. He saw the mess and sauntered over.

“He was eating it,” said Mickey incredulously.

“And I shall eat some more,” thundered Thornton. He shot to his feet and returned to the servery. Billy band Mickey followed him. They felt their stomachs heave as the actor spooned piles of worms and rotting meat onto his plate. Then they saw that the entire servery was crawling with decay. Green mould edged the roast beef and maggots popped through the pulsating skin of a pork leg. Salads dissolved into evil slime and cream curdled before their eyes. The smell suddenly became overwhelming and, gagging, the two men made for the door.

Thornton, a plate of perfect stew in his hand, was baffled.

It was then Angela entered the room.

Billy and Mickey swept past her into the cold, dank, but sweeter smelling wings. Angela smiled at Thornton. “Enjoying your meal?” she asked pleasantly.

“I must compliment your chef,” said the actor. “Rarely have I tasted better.”

“I'll pass on your compliments,” she said, “But would you mind postponing your meal for a while, Mr Lucy wishes to see you on the stage. All of you.”

“Ah,” he said eagerly, laying his spoon neatly on the plate, “the script.”

“Indeed,” said Angela. “But Mr Lucy wants to be the one to pass on the good news.”

“Very well,” said Thornton, rising. He walked to the door, where Billy and Mickey were standing. He brushed past them and began to stride purposefully towards the stage. The other two followed quickly when they saw Angela dip her finger into the mess on Thornton's plate and lick it appreciatively.

The three men walked onto the stage, followed by Angela. Lucy was sitting at the desk. Diana was gazing into the computer. Lucy wasted no time. “Gentlemen,” he said. “We have reached a decision.” His look cut right through Mickey and Billy.

“Not good enough eh?” said Mickey.

“On the contrary...” The words shot from Diana's mouth.

“You mean we got the parts?” Mickey asked the question, but he still didn't believe it.

“You certainly did not, not you anyway.” There was a sneer in Lucy's tone.

“I thought I did okay with that Shakespeare stuff,” said Mickey, not sure whether he was happy or sad at the decision.

Thornton however was elated. Somehow, something inside told him that he had won through. He too though, felt turmoil inside. “Your opinion could hardly count,” he said, haughtily.

“He did all right,” said Billy.

“You will not be joining the cast,” repeated Lucy.

Mickey sighed. Was it relief or disappointment? He still didn't know. “No Hamlet for this clown then?”

Lucy sighed. “That is of no concern to me,” he said.

“You're a cold bastard,” said Billy.

“As cold as necessary,” said Lucy.

Mickey walked to the chairs and picked up his battered ukulele. “What happens now?” he asked.

“Go back to the Greenroom,” said Angela.

“What to all that rotting food?” Mickey wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“You have nowhere else to go,” said Lucy. Mickey knew he meant it. “No hard feelings.” The comic held out his hand. The women tensed as Lucy, hesitating at first but then smiling held out his hand. Mickey took it and then recoiled with a cry of pain.

“Jesus,” he howled. “Who are you?”

Lucy stepped forward. “No hard feelings Mr Finnegan.” Mickey ran from the stage.

Lucy turned his attention to Billy. “You didn't make the grade either,” he said.

“I never wanted the gig anyway,” said Billy defiantly.

Lucy smiled. “So it would seem, although Miss Caduti was more than anxious to give a chance.”

Billy looked at her, beautiful, still smouldering, reeking of sex. “I'll bet she was,” he said.

“She did, however, finally agree with me.” His eyes caught Angela's and she lowered them like a schoolgirl virgin. “You are not up to standard.”

Billy looked him up and down. It was as strange feeling. For the first time he felt safe. “What would you know about talent?” he asked.

Lucy laughed an earthquake of a laugh. “Everything, Mr Winter, everything,” he said.“Now go.”

Billy wandered to the chairs and picked up his precious Fender. He looked at Thornton. “I have this funny feeling that you're one unlucky son of a bitch,” he said.

“Billy,” it was Angela.

“I know, the Greenroom.” He sauntered slowly towards the wings. Then he stopped. “You're fucking weird, you know that?” he murmured.

Lucy held out his hand. Billy looked at it and saw it change into a taloned claw before his eyes. He turned and left the stage as quickly as Mickey had.

There were huge smiles all round as he left. And suddenly Thornton felt very much alone.

Mickey's heart was thumping and he could still feel the searing on his palm. Shaking hands with Lucy was like picking up a red hot poker, or a handful of dry ice. And yet there was no blistering or scar. He almost gagged as he passed Lucy's room. The smell was suffocating, rotting, worse than rotting. He clutched his ukulele and ran.

He knew the Greenroom was close, and yet the faster he ran, the further away it seemed to be.

He was panting heavily by the time he saw the chink of light coming from under the door, but he put on an extra spurt and pushed the door open. He ran through and slammed it behind him. He felt the sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply until he recovered his breath. Then he opened his eyes and looked round. The room looked the same; almost... the wooden door was back.

He had just taken a step towards it when Billy walked in. He looked as dazed as Mickey felt.

He stared at the ancient door. “Hey man,” he said. “The door to heaven's come back.”

“Yeah,” said Mickey. “Why?”

Billy strode towards it. He stopped and laughed.

“What's up?” asked Mickey.

“Mr Belvedere bloody Thornton,” he said, “and his palace of pornography.”

“The club,” amended Mickey.

“The drugs,” said Billy.

“All different,” said Mickey.

“Yeah,” said Billy.

Mickey stared thoughtfully at the door. “Did you see anything when you were singing your song?” he asked.

Billy's face turned dark. “Bastards,” he said. “I was back on track, I was singing better than ever. And that band,” he shook his head slowly. “Man, that guitar.”

“There was nothing,” said Mickey.

“What?”

“There was nothing there, when you were singing.”

“There was an audience. We were outside... ” Billy's voice trailed off. “We couldn't have been.”

“No,” said Mickey. “You stood on the stage, singing. You started off badly, but you warmed up and you sang great, like Pavarotti. You kept bowing and blasting on your guitar. You looked weird, if you thought you were playing to an audience.”

“I was,” said Billy quietly.

“There was nothing there,” said Mickey, “just the blackness. Then you stopped and started to duck and weave.” He laughed. “You looked bloody funny. Like a lunatic.”

Billy's faced paled at the memory. “They turned on me,” he muttered inaudibly.

“What?” Mickey couldn't hear.

Billy's voice rose. “They turned on me man,” he cried. “They threw things at me. I knew I did great man. I never sang better, but then turned on me.” He paused. “They were ghouls man.”

“Yeah,” said Mickey slowly, “ghouls. I had an audience too.”

It was Billy's turn to laugh. “No way man, you stumbled and bumbled like you were in some bar room.”

“No,” said Billy. “I was in Rome - ancient Rome, the Capitol. Little buddy, I did my speech in Rome. I
was
Mark Anthony.”

Billy's laugh was not so loud this time. “No way, man,” he repeated. “You came good, sure, you even got me listening to that crap, but you did it to nothing, just an empty hall.”

“So,” said Mickey, closing in on the door. “In here I saw a club room and you saw a drugs heaven. In the theatre I had an audience you couldn't see and you had an audience I couldn't see. And they hated both of us.”

Billy went to the door. “Let's open it and go in together, maybe it'll tell us something.”

He stopped. The brass handle was gone. The lock was there, but no key. And no handle

“What's going on?” he said. “Can you still see what I see?” He was beginning to doubt his sanity.

“The door's back, and the handle's gone,” said Mickey.

“That's right, man,” said Billy. “At least we're on the same planet now.” he walked to the still steaming food bar.

“It was the food,” he said. “There must have been drugs in it. LSD, or something.”

“Something hallucinatory,” said Mickey.

“That's it,” brayed Billy.

“But why?”

“Who knows, man,” said Billy. “They're fucking weird.”

“They're that all right,” said Mickey. “I still don't understand what we're doing here. It's crazy. What was the point? It all seems like a bad dream.”

“It's real enough for me,” said Billy. “I just want to wake up.”

“It's got me beat,” said Mickey, joining Billy at the servery. He peered at the food. “That looks all right now.”

“I wouldn't trust it again,” said Billy, bile rising at the thought of the oysters and the plate of worms that Thornton ate.

“Why not?” asked Mickey. He leaned forward and picked up a piece of chocolate cake. Billy watched in horror as he took a bite. Mickey chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “Great,” he said. “The drug's worn off. See. This is real.”

“Now you've taken their drug again,” said Billy. “You'll get DTs again soon. The worms will come back.”

“I don't think so,” said Mickey. “They've done with us. The other stuff's finished.”

“Yeah?” Billy looked fearfully round. “So what happens now?

Mickey shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know,” he said. “Maybe we should just sit and wait. Things seem to happen on their own here.”

He picked up another piece of cake and moved to a table. He pulled out a chair and sat down. He placed his ukulele gently on the plastic topped table.

Billy followed. He was not as calmly accepting as Mickey. He laid his guitar on the table. “Listen, man, we can't just sit here waiting.”

“If you've got a better idea I'm listening,” said Mickey. “You want to go back to that mob?”

Billy shook his head. “Maybe there's another way out,” he said. “Maybe there's another door, past this one.”

“So go and look,” said Mickey, taking another bite from his cake.

“Right, I will,” said Billy. He pushed back his chair, stood and walked purposefully to the exit door. He pulled it open and stepped out. Then he stepped back. “Will you come with me?” he asked. He was like a little scared boy.

Mickey sighed. There was no way he could explain the feeling of well-being and safety that engulfed him. “Okay.”

They stood outside the door and stared into the darkness. They hesitated. “Oh come on,” said Mickey, and he began to move into the darkness past the Greenroom. Mickey wrinkled his nostrils. There was a smell of smoke. Faint, but acrid. Then they found the door.