Night Of The Beast Read Online Free PDF Page B

very trendy and just exploding in popularity. Peter made a mental note to fire the publicist.
    "Well, let's get started," Rourke said. "I have a lot on my plate today."
    "Believe me, I understand," Turi said. "And I do appreciate your taking five minutes out of recording the next Sour Candy CD to be with us today." Rourke realized the man was already broadcasting live, and he'd started off on the wrong foot. He forced a smile.
    "Excuse me for being abrupt," Peter said. "I'm under a lot of pressure."
    "Can you tell us a little about the new CD, Peter?"
    Rourke filled him in on some of the technical aspects; why he was choosing to record on old 24-track machines, using out-dated analog technology in an attempt to recapture what was once fresh and exciting about rock and roll. He suffered through the usual questions about his redneck background, his love of the high desert country, and how he had first discovered rock. But Turi seemed impatient, so he kept the explanation brief and waited for another question.
    "Can you give us a little hint as to the theme of this CD?"
    Theme? Rourke cringed inside. Suddenly the skull buttons made sense. Turi was expecting some kind of macabre, well-orchestrated lyrical structure, as had been the case with "Devil's Reign."
    Peter tap-danced around the query as best he could.
    "Well, let me just say that we'll be breaking new ground this time," he said. "There will be some stuff for our old fans, certainly, but I've been experimenting with some new directions as well. I'd rather not say more than that, at least at this point."
    "Are you personally aware of the impact your lyrics have had on an entire subculture in America, Peter?"
    "What?"
    Turi leaned forward. His breath was terrible; it reeked of sushi. "Your work not only sold a great many records, making it an unqualified financial success, but it also inspired an enormous underground following, Mr. Rourke. Practitioners of the occult, the dark arts, death rock fans, Goths, you name it. Everyone with an interest in horror seems to have been drawn to this record like moths to a flame." Turi snickered at his own, lame anology. "Why, I've heard of Goth's getting married to 'Devil's Reign' in San Francisco."
    Rourke blinked and sat back. "I'm not quite sure what to say to that." He had been promised the interview would only last five minutes. He checked the clock on the office wall. One minute to go.
    Turi adjusted the small desk camera. He raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. He, too, had obviously made note of the time. He wanted to get something dramatic or die trying.
    "You were honestly not aware of this, Peter? Your intent, was clear enough, but you have succeeded beyond your wildest dreams as to how far and wide you have spread your message."
    "Message?"
    Turi smiled again. Rourke suddenly thought of a barracuda. "The message of the End Times," Turi said, as if stating the fact of gravity. "You were trying to get the word out."
    "Fuck off," Rourke said, rising to his feet.
    Turi's grin slipped a bit. "I beg your pardon?"
    "Trying to get what word out? Don't try to pin that bullshit on me. What I was trying to do was make a buck."
    "But, I…."
    "Your five minutes are up," Rourke said. He stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind him. He went back into the studio.
     

4 

    VARGAS
     
    "The Devil's Reign
    Reign
    Reign…
     
    The bartender got all kinds. His video saloon on Selma Avenue in Hollywood drew skinny punks with body piercing, bizarre hair and thousand-yard stares; con men, pimps and gum-chewing young hookers. He got your bikers, faggots and undercover cops. All kinds. But there was something different about this dude. And it was something really fucking scary.
     
    "Storm clouds gather
    In a bleak, grey sky
    And mushrooms blossom
    In a demon's eye..."
     
    Dipshit. Kept playing that same freaky rock video, like he'd gotten married to it and his wife had just split. Sexy stuff, but pretty sick, with black magic symbols