Heavy Metal Heart Read Online Free Page B

absorbed from the audience what he gave out. Energy grew in him. He bounced on his toes, standing at the base of a small set of bent stairs at the back of the stage. His electric guitar hung over his shoulder. Slang from the middle of last century called it an ax. If he was born of other legends, it truly would be his weapon, slaying the enemy to keep alive. Trevor, though, used it to form a connection with the audience.
    And in turn, they helped him live. His soul was ready, like thousands of chomping mouths. The void within howled with icy wind. If it wasn’t filled, he could wither and collapse, crushed by a world that didn’t listen. The mysterious darkness at the edges of his thoughts hadn’t lifted, but the hunger overpowered any doubt now.
    Lee stood just behind Trevor’s shoulder. “Good crowd.”
    Upstairs and on the other side of the stage, a couple hundred people packed into the room, cheering for the band. Their collective voice was a steady current cutting through stormy seas.
    Wolfgang whooped behind Trevor and Lee. “Fucking killer crowd.”
    Lee nudged Trevor’s shoulder. “Quit licking it. Let’s get in there.”
    A few hundred years ago, they’d entered through gilt doors to play harpsichords and violas for handfuls of aristos. Even that applause fed them. Singing love songs from a back of a wagon to the peasants always gave the demons more life. Then rock and roll brought music to everyone.
    Trevor charged the stage. The stairs shook under their feet. The wooden stage was perfectly seasoned by years of rock and roll. Like a whiskey barrel. The crowd’s cheers rose to meet Trevor and the band as they stepped out onto the stage. He waved back, already feeling the energy flowing between him and the people.
    Wolfgang took a lap around the stage, waving his arms to incite the audience. They met his intensity, shaking the walls with their voices. Lee slung on his bass, giving the people his wanton grin. They loved it, shouting for more.
    Red and yellow stage lights flared like rising and setting suns. The crowd stood in shadow, a single, eager mass. Wolfgang mounted up behind the drums. Lee made a final adjustment to his bass and nodded to Trevor.
    He had filled amphitheaters with just his voice. He’d entertained pastoral revelers who never knew his name. He had witnessed the birth of rock and roll and learned that language to stay alive.
    Trevor stepped up to the mic. The metal screen was dented and scraped. There were traces of blood and booze. Just as it should be for this room. “You all ready to be rascals tonight?” The audience cheered agreement. He dropped his voice, rumbling, “Let’s be fucking bad.”
    Wolfgang drove the beat out. It washed over Trevor’s back and crashed into the crowd. When Trevor hit the first grinding chord of the song and Lee came in with the bass, the people cheered themselves hoarse and jumped where they stood. The song was a swirling typhoon, distortion on the guitar like rusted debris caught up in the wind.
    To Trevor’s right, Lee stood at the edge of the stage, his long hair over his face as he played close to the crowd. His smile was gone, face concentrated on the music. The song was alive.
    Trevor returned to the mic, filled his lungs and gave all his breath to the audience, singing “Infernal”:
    Burn the town
    Burn the gallows down
    He didn’t need to remember the words. Like the sequence of guitar chords, they came as naturally as the pounding of his heart. But this was no rote performance. Not when his life truly depended on it.
    As his voice and music swept over the audience, it gathered their vitality. The small venue concentrated the power, winding it tight as it returned to the stage. Only Trevor, Lee and Wolfgang could see it. The energy glowed gold on the edges, like the pure ore from the earth. Veins of white marble streaked through the swirling mass, ringed with the foam of the sea. The center of the power was thick dark red. Deeply