Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Midvalley's Serenade ❯ A Change of Plans ( Chapter 33 )

A Change of Plans

I left that afternoon and hooked up with Lenny and the rest of the band some six hours later. They were booked at a club called Smokey's. I could hear the sizzling riffs of Hot Lips' trumpet and feel the beat of Lenny's drumset, from half a block away.

Lenny was glad to see me if a little surprised.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked.

"Nah, just got some big ideas about a benefit concert for the orphans-- if I my plans don't get shot down."

Dixie sat down beside me with and tossed back a shot of whiskey, "God, it's nice to see you, Midvalley. What's this about a benefit?"

"I was hoping if everyone hasn't made plans already that I could rent the armory for Sunday, we play a gig and donate the proceeds to Orleans Orphanage."

"That's where Chapel is, isn't it?Is he okay?" asked Sunny, who was nursing a long neck beer.

"Yeah, he's feeling a lot better. But the orphanage he runs could use some financial help, so I thought I'd ask you if you could play a benefit for them.

"Would we get paid?" asked Toby.

"Sure," I said, "I'll guarantee that you all get paid, the same as for any concert. I wouldn't expect you guys to donate your pay unless you wanted to. I know the road's expensive."

"Sounds good to me," said Randy. "You can count me in."

Jason said, "I saw the place. Pretty impressive from a distance, but up close, it looks like it could use some help. The kids I saw seemed real nice. I still can't believe I'm getting paid for playing. I'd do it for free."

Hot Lips joined the group. "Don't let the club owner hear that, or he'll think we're overcharging him."

"Well, the gang's all here," said Lenny as Dave and Sunny slipped in to sit beside him. "Anyone up to playing a benefit gig at the armory on Sunday for Chapel's orphans?"

The consensus was yes.

"Well, break out Silvia, Midvalley. Don't tell me you just came here tonight as an angel of mercy," said Dixie. "Let's have a little fun tonight. Break's almost over."

I tuned up with Sunny and then joined in on a number called "Permanent Vacation" and had killer solo in the middle. With Sunny on acoustic, Randy on electric, Toby's sliding bass runs and Lenny's shimmering cymbals-I just loved how the music flowed. I hadn't played for a couple of days and everything felt fresh.

Later in the set, we took audience requests from our usual repertoire. Thank God Hot Lips was there. Sometimes it seemed like he knew every song ever written and if he didn't, he sure could fake it.

During the break, I cornered Lenny and pumped him for information.

"I don't have much lead time to get the word out to the public about the concert, but if you could get that friend of yours who works on the satellite to advertise the benefit for us, well, it's really about the only way we'll get good gate receipts."

He agreed to contact his friend the next morning.

Next morning at brunch in the hotel café, I heard the ad for the benefit on the satellite broadcast. The announcer was saying, "…and don't miss the sensational playing of the legendary horn talents, Hot Lips McCoy and Midvalley the Hornfreak, featured on that golden oldie "Silvia's Tune" and the new hot hit, "Serenade". The Midvalley Seven and Kenny McCoy are donating the proceeds of this concert to the Orleans Orphanage. It's a wonderful cause…"

I opened up a copy of the December Star and was surprised to see a dramatic drawing of my father and me on top of the sandsteamer blowing up a dust storm on the night the gangs attacked. I read the opening paragraphs of the article and was pleased they got the facts straight for a change. As my eye skimmed down the page, a name caught my eye and I slowed down.

"The demonstration of the lethal power of the Hornfreak's sax has reawakened speculation about his possible involvement in the disappearance of rival musician, Skip Walker…"

"Rival?" I muttered. "Musician? Ha!"

"Reading more lies?" asked Hot Lips.

"The usual."

He joined me for breakfast and we ended up spending the day together. He came along with me while I rented the armory and saw about the additional sound equipment and lighting for the benefit performance.

Sometime that afternoon when my energy was at low ebb, he persuaded me to become a member of the Mouth of Gabriel. I decided to do it for a couple of reasons. I wanted a greater sense of connection with my father, and I hoped I might use the activities of the organization as a reason to see Nick more often.

That evening, after the gig at Black Jack's Saloon, Hot Lips took me to a small church outside the city to be initiated into the rite of the Mouth of Gabriel. He'd asked me to bring Silvia along.

It was dark inside, but large candles lit the domed enclosure. There was a cross on the altar and in the four corners of the church there were statues of angels. I recognized that Gabriel with his horn was one of them.

I could barely recall the last time I had been in a church and I looked to Hot Lips for clues. He led me to the front near the altar. He dropped down on one knee and made a sign with his hand, and then sat down on a bench. I sat beside him. He appeared to be waiting.

I had no expectations. Some nuns filed in up the aisle with candles and came to stop before me.

"Who offers the initiate?" said a nun with a simply beautiful face. She was wearing a gray veil and habit.

"A servant of Gabriel brings another to serve," said Hot Lips.

"Let him open his mind and his heart and his soul to judgment."

"What do I do?" I whispered.

"Open up. As hollow as your horn."

Without playing Silvia, it was hard for me to find that quiet space within. I closed my eyes and heard the rustling of the nun's robes and the scrape of Hot Lips' shoes on the sandstone floor, the flutter of candles as a door opened and a breeze flowed down the aisle. What was it that I was supposed to feel? What was this initiation about? I sighed in frustration and opened my eyes.

"It's hard for me to do this without Silvia. Can I play my horn?" I asked.

"That's appropriate," said one of the nuns gravely.

Hot Lips opened Silvia's case and handed her to me.

"Play," said the nun.

I looked to Hot Lips for some clue.

"A tune?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Just play."

I improvised and played as the spirit moved me, a meandering fugue that wove in and out of a minor key, soft and sensual. It seemed to fit the candlelight mood. I heard one of the nuns sigh at the throbbing mysterious musical flow.

Finally when I felt that my song was through, I let the last notes reverberate in the air and then took the mouthpiece from my lips.

I felt whole and at peace.

"Do you pledge your body to aid the angels sent to us?" said the nun.

I looked to Hot Lips for guidance. He nodded.

I nodded and said, "I pledge my body."

"This one will serve," chanted the nuns in a chorus.

"Do you pledge your powers of mind to aid the angels sent to us?"

"I pledge my powers of mind," I said.

"This one will serve," sang the nuns in unison.

Do you pledge your soul to serve the angels sent to us?"

"I pledge my soul," I said.

Then the nuns sang in chorus again, "This one will serve."

And then, it was done. I felt no different and thought the whole ceremony had been a waste of time.

A few minutes later, Hot Lips took me to another private house up the street and I met the cell of the Mouth of Gabriel. It didn't take long. There were a few musicians and roadies that I recognized from around. I went over and chatted with them about the music scene while Hot Lips made inquiries of his own. After a few minutes, we left. My father looked like he'd heard bad news.

"What's the matter?" I asked him on the walk back to the hotel.

"Master Knives had another relapse," he said.

"That must be hard on Legato. He's been helping him with healing."

"Yes."

Hot Lips was silent for a while.

"Has any trace of Vash the Stampede been found?" I asked.

"There were over 20 leads, but none of them panned out. Master Knives has been very frustrated by our inability to find his brother. He has been exhausting his strength making his own inquiries. When Master Knives is at full strength, his psychic talents dwarf Legato's, but every time he uses his powers of mind, his body weakens."

"Legato must be exhausted," I said.

"I suppose so." said Hot Lips with a thoughtful expression. "But you look a lot better. Your leave of absence has done you good. I'd never know you'd been ill. What are your plans for the next few days?"

"Well, after the benefit, I thought I'd swing by to see Nick again before I head back. I have a few more days of leave and I thought I'd spend it with him. I also had a business proposition for the orphanage. I was thinking of setting up another production and distribution center in the December area. If some of the nuns could take charge of the business, it would be profitable for the orphanage and for my recording business.

"That's good thinking, Midvalley. I can see why Legato wants you for his right hand man.

"Thanks, for the compliment, but I'm not exactly eager to return to headquarters," I said. "Don't get me wrong…I know my priorities. Legato told me to use my leave time as I saw fit. I want to see the smile on Nick's face when he sees the size of the check from the concert. Lenny's friend told him he thinks we'll make a lot of money, the city's been so starved for entertainment since Augusta…"

When we got back to the hotel, the desk attendant seemed to recollect there was a wire for me It was from Legato, letting me know that I was being recalled to headquarters at the request of Master Knives Millions and to take the next available sandsteamer back. That would be the 10 PM that left in a couple of hours.

"Shit," I said.

"Trouble?" asked Hot Lips.

"Uh, a little," I said with some confusion. My mind was reeling from the sudden blow to my plans. "I just got a wire from Legato. Master Knives has recalled me and wants me to leave on the next steamer back. I spent today renting the armory and sound equipment for the benefit and I don't even have time to cancel, and…"

"Maybe we can play the benefit without you, Midvalley," Hot Lips interrupted. "I'd like to do that for you and I'm sure your bandmates won't mind helping you out."

It was such a generous offer, I reached out and hugged him. I was surprised to see tears in his eyes and to feel them in my own.

"Tell the band I'm sorry I had to skip out on them. I've got to go."

"I know. Good-bye, son."

He looked like he wanted to say more.

I didn't have time to do much, but I brought the van back to the place I rented it, bought my ticket, and wrote Nick a quick letter explaining that I'd been recalled suddenly. I signed it 'with all my love' and posted it at the station.

After I boarded the steamer, found my sleeping berth and stowed my luggage and Silvia safely, I went to the lounge for a nightcap to lift my spirits. I felt a little melancholy that I hadn't been able to see Nick again before I left. The brandy didn't help, so I finally went back to my berth and went to sleep. By morning the mood had passed.

I spent most of my time on the trip back to headquarters playing Silvia in the lounge, catching up on my sleep, eating and wondering what the future held for Nick and me. Some of my thoughts worried me, but most of the time I ended up with a big goofy grin on my face picturing how we'd spend our time together the next time we met.

Four days later I was in Master Knives' mansion at Legato's side waiting to meet the man my father called the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Legato looked pale and thin but as imperturbable as ever despite his physical weakness.

"Master Knives has had another relapse and wants more strength. He has taken all he could from me but he has heard of your healing ability and thought perhaps he could make some use of it. Are you up to it, Hornfreak?" he asked me as if he doubted I was.

"I'm privileged to serve him," I said.

"Yes," he said in a noncommittal tone.

Then Legato knocked three times on the door of Master Knives' private suite. A voice that sounded somehow familiar said, "Come in," and we entered.

Master Knives had his back turned to me when I first walked in. He was wearing an unusual garment, a two-piece suit of black leather with zippers. I waited politely for him to make the first move, but when he turned and I saw his face, I inhaled sharply in shocked recognition. I remembered it from a nightmare.

"Have we met?" he asked in a condescending tone.

"Not that I recall," I said.

"You looked like you recognized me," said Master Knives. "Have you seen me before?"

"In a dream," I said.

"And what was I doing in this dream?"

"Drinking blood."

"Who's blood?"

"My blood."

"Do you think I would dirty myself with your blood?"

"It was just a dream," I said.

"That's a diplomatic answer," he said with mild amusement. "Legato tells me you're clever."

I looked at Master Knives carefully. He walked with a limp and favored his right side. His skin was very pale and he looked ill. I could see that some might count him as beautiful, but never more than my mother or Nick.

He smirked at me as though he knew what I was thinking.

"Legato also tells me you're an empath. Can you feel my emotions?" he asked.

Oddly enough, considering I had never met him before or linked with him, I could.

"What am I feeling right now?"

"Contempt."

"Very good. Contempt for whom?"

"Contempt for me….and…" I swallowed. I didn't want to finish the sentence, but Legato was an empath. He must know.

"Yes?" he said patiently. "Don't hold back. I shall get angry if you hold back…and contempt for…" he prompted me."

"…for Legato."

I could feel Legato's emotions as well. He wore the slight smile on his face, but inside it felt like he was bleeding.

"He's honest, Legato, for a human." said Master Knives, "You were right about him.

"What else am I feeling, Hornfreak?" he continued.

"Curiosity, pain, anger…"

"I think you're forgetting one."

"Lust."

"That's right."

"And what do I lust for?"

"You want something I have."

"Correct. Take your clothes off."

I hesitated, a sense of panic growing in me, a panic that had its roots in my memories of my rape at the White Cat Saloon.

"Oh, god, don't do this," I begged him.

"I believe you pledged your body to serve me," said Knives in a cold voice, "so serve."

"Legato, I'm waiting," he continued in a demanding voice.

Suddenly I felt my body pushed forward onto all fours, my spine felt like it was breaking.

I felt Legato's hands around my waist unfastening my pants. He exposed me and then I heard him step away.

Nothing in my life prepared me for the violence with which Knives raped me. At some point, I couldn't bear the pain anymore and opened myself to my own healing power. The pain abated momentarily and then redoubled in intensity. As fast as I filled myself with healing, Knives drained it away. Then I realized that Knives meant it to hurt intensely. The more it hurt, the more I needed healing, the more he could drain from me. I shrank from the pain that poured out of him and into me, but I couldn't escape it. Not while he rode me and we were locked as one.

I feel his memories and images collide in my head.

Babies...A girl child's body bleeding and torn…as scientists make notes on clipboards. A very young boy in a darkened room…blue eyes filled with fear. The child's voice begs, "No, Steve, no," but in that darkness, innocence is twisted, shredded by lust…

The boy is Knives, no more than five years old, and I thought that I knew pain…I weep to see that poor sweet child raped and beaten and I know his pain, but I hurt so much myself right now…God, let it stop…

I try to dissociate from the pain, from the healing. My gift will be the death of me. But I still might live, but how?

Don't feel…I tell myself, but he shreds my nerves and pierces my brain with the memories of his pain.

Oh, god…oh god…the pain, the pain. Think of anything else. Legato, where's Legato? Think.

I glimpse him leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, his arms wrapped tight around his chest. Blue hair covers his averted eyes. I feel what he feels…no, it hurts too much too feel…hurts too much to think.

More images flood my mind

Two brothers… One, the man who rapes me now, the other, Vash the Stampede. Locked so close to Knives, I feel his feelings like my own. Love, jealousy, and anger eat at the heart of the man inside me…Vash turns his gun on Knives...I am betrayed.

A light glows and pistol grows…a monstrous angel's arm spews a hideous light like hell fire and I feel a shock when it passes through me as though a god had ripped my body asunder.

"Oh, Jesus, help me," I cry out in my agony, but no one answers my prayer. When the full force of the crippling pain hits me, I begin to gibber and scream out loud.

Knives thrusts in me, and I feel his hatred of me and what I am. While I scream and scream in pain and fill myself with healing, Knives spurts hot jism on my back . With one last effort, he thrusts into me again and in his orgasm he is truly one with me who he despises and with the healing power that he lusts for. I feel the blackness begin to overtake me as he drains more and more of my life away. I feel myself begin to fade away, like a drop of water evaporating in the sunlight.

The bonds that hold me to this plane loosen, and the pain and humiliation I have just gone through are as nothing. Finally, I feel a slight tug, like the leaf that falls from a tree and with that tug, I feel my spirit separate from my body, and I…die.

But as I die, I hear the whisper of sand caught by the wind.

Whispering secrets.

The man in white complains, "You said you'd leave him alone."

The man in black mocks, "I changed my mind."

White says, "He is useful."

Black says, "He served his purpose."

Black and white and white and black. The voices argue over what no longer matters. I grow weary of their secrets.

"You relapsed before. You may again. May I…"asks white

"Save him?" asks black.

"Yes."

"He's almost gone."

"Let him go," says black.

"No," says white…

"Do what you will," says black. "I don't care anymore."

And I don't care anymore. I'm gone. There is no pain where I am. I could drift forever or sleep forever. There is nothing I want here anymore, no reason to stay.

A voice says, "You're hurt."

What? I would laugh but I have no lungs. I feel no pain. I would speak, but I have no voice.

Weightless, I begin to float away like a kite on a string.

A voice from below says,

Midvalley.

The word means nothing.

I float away without a downward look.

I like it here.

Lighter than air.

Midvalley.

The word is the string that holds me, a maddening bond I want to slip.

Midvalley.

The word is like a tug on the sleeve. I pull away, lighter and lighter and lighter until I hear the faintest of faintest voices whisper a name, like satin and velvet and honey to my ear.

"Nicholas."

And my weightless ascent stops and I hesitate…

I remember the meaning of that name and I whisper it with lips I'd forgotten I had. Then gravity pulls me down like a lover's kiss. I plummet into airless, soundless black, a headlong rush into nothingness that stops when a hand catches me and gently lays me down.

Then the honeyed voice whispers, "Sleep now."

Sleep.

Sleep, a soothing sound, sweet like the whisper of sifting drifting sand, a sound like silver, soft as silk, Silvia.