“Guess where we’re going next, Las Vegas?” she shouted into the mic.
The crescendo of their excitement shook the stadium.
“Sing it with me!” she screamed.
She started them off on the opening note, then let tens of thousands take over. She joined in on the second line, grinning from ear to ear, sweat plastering her face-framing bangs to her cheeks and forehead as she flipped her hair from one side to the other.
My hands became so sweaty, I nearly dropped the cordless mic. Stress became panic became nausea as my stomach rolled.I was going to throw up.
She began the bridge. My nerves couldn’t take it. Lights went down as she said, “Whose Gospel are we bringing to the Sin City?”
The music idled dramatically, edging seventy thousand frothing fans as they waited for release. And waited. And waited.
Lasers cut through smoke in an explosion of red, simulated hellfire as she burst into the first note. I struggled to breathe as I began searching the stage. We’d agreed to get through the first chorus. That should mean…
My hands shot to my ears to cover the ear-splitting crack. I nearly went into cardiac arrest as I winced against the shock.
Silas arrived with a bolt of thunder. The stadium shuddered, stage cracking under his impact. He faced the singer, his back to me. White-gold feathers had to stretch over twenty feet from tip to tip. He’d landed with one fist to the ground, stage splintering like a frozen lake beneath his punch, the other extended behind him as he gripped a blazing sword.
My breath knotted in my throat. My hand flew to my heart as if to catch it from leaping from its cage. My knees wobbled.
Three things happened at once.
First, the band screeched to a halt, though pre-recorded backup vocals continued over the speakers. Second, Vexa cut off mid-note, falling to the ground as she stumbled backward. Third, the jumbo screens cut from her on the ground to a wide shot that included both the icon and the angel.
The audience erupted into shrieks.
It was working. It was…
Those weren’t shrieks. They were cheering. Tens of thousands of fans were losing their goddamn minds. The stadium shimmered as ten thousand phones went off, their flashes like twinkling snow in the baking heat.
“They think it’s part of the show,” I said, blood draining from my face. “They think it’s part of the fucking show.” I worked up the oxygen needed to yell. To the back of his head, I urged, “Say something, Silas!”
Vexa hadn’t gotten up. The camera moved to a tight shot of Silas, roving over his strained expression, sweat beading on his brow. The band hadn’t attempted playing. And he remained still, wings extended. The cat had his motherfucking tongue.
“So help me, you piece of shit and your stage fright.” I stamped my foot, flexing my hands into fists only to have my tendons meet the hard, dark cylinder that still rested in my palm. I pushed a breath and flipped the tiny switch on the side of the microphone until the red light came on.
My vision swam. My head spun.
“Say something!” I shouted. The window was closing. The element of surprise was nearly over.
The ripple changed from excitement to confusion as Vexa remained propped up on her elbows from her backward scurry. A cameraman switched to her face, only to see her lips parted in speechless shock, hair askew from where she’d landed. She couldn’t so much as lift her mic.
If I took the time to think, I’d talk myself out of it.
I acted without thinking.
I sprinted onto the stage. I took off toward the center, covering as much ground as I could in heels. Pressing the mic into my lips, I screamed, “Security! Security, help!”
The audience stopped cheering.
I rushed to Vexa’s side, shrieking in panic over the mortal danger as I held up my hands to protect her from Silas.
A new sound moved like a wave as shouts and murmurs became outcry. Then the wails began. No longer the sounds of enthusiastic fans, but ones of terror. Good. This plan wouldn’t work unless they were scared.
The crowd undulated. Some were clawing at the stage. Others were scrambling for the aisles. Most were trapped inhorror, watching the events play out.
Silas craned over his shoulder to see me. He drew his wings in ever so slightly, then shot them back out again. His face twitched.
