The Lost Queen of Midnight

Liora Bannon paused, hand on the brass door handle, hot to the touch in the late afternoon sun. The bass from the music vibrated through the handle, matching the thumping of her heart. “Walk away,” screamed the voice in her head. “Do not go in there,” the warning reverberated through every cell in her body. She knew what awaited her on the other side. She’d gone through all of this a thousand times in her mind. It was the only solution. This place was the only way. Before she could heed the warning voice, she straightened her shoulders and pulled open the massive wooden doors, trying not to look at the two men on either side of the door, smirking at her. On the other side lay cool darkness and the smell of cheap perfume, sweat, and alcohol. The music was loud, something rave-sounding, pulsing along with the LED lights from the stage. She turned back towards the door and watched it swing shut, closing out the remaining light from the setting sun and the leering look from the bouncers, still staring after her. “I’m here now,” she said quietly under her breath. “There’s no use walking away.” “Can I help you, honey?” The woman had to be pushing 40. Too much makeup, too few clothes. Her hair had been dyed platinum so many times it looked orange. A short black skirt, a tiny tank top that showed slightly shriveled skin around her neck, and a black push-up bra revealing a badly done breast job. For a moment, Liora could see her own face on the woman, even though she knew she was at least 15 years younger. But she knew this woman had once been young and beautiful, full of life, dreams, and plans for a better future. Life had stolen much from her. It was evident in the dullness of her eyes, etched into the frown lines around her mouth, painted like the eyeliner around the crow's feet that lined her eyes. Gooseflesh rose up on Liora's arms as she shook herself. This would not be her. Taking care to look only at the woman in front of her and not the bodies gyrating on the stage, Liora quickly replied, “Yes. I’m here to apply for a job.” Dear God, her mother would kill her if she knew where she was. But her mother was gone, and this was the only way. “Entertainer or waitstaff?” The woman asked, taking in Liora's overly thin frame, the long brown hair half hiding her face, and the piercing green eyes gazing back at her. “Waitstaff,” Liora answered quickly. “Do I look like anyone someone would want to see naked?” “Humph…There’s a lid for every pot,” the older waitress responded before motioning for Liora to follow her toward a long wooden bar filled with men. Liora stared straight ahead at the back of Orange Hair’s head and tried to ignore the glowering looks. “Jameson,” Orange Hair yelled over the music noise to a huge, blond, muscle head behind the bar. Jerking her finger at Liora, she added, “She’s looking for a job.” Without a backward look, Liora watched the woman turn and make her way through the crowd with a smile that didn’t quite touch her eyes, gathering drink orders from men who should have stopped drinking two hours ago. Jameson turned to take in the wraith-like girl standing on the other side of the bar. Looking her up and down once, he reached under the bar and grabbed a piece of paper. Pushing it at Liora he grunted, “Fill this out. Use your real name, not your stage name.” Liora pulled the application across the sticky bar top towards her. “I’m applying for waitstaff,” she loudly announced to be heard over the tech beats behind her. “Same application for either position. Just mark the box at the bottom.” He replied, turning away from her to grab a bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind. Feeling dismissed, Liora grabbed the application and made her way to a two-top corner table. She put her back against the wall, took a deep breath, and surveyed her surroundings. The club looked like it could be any of the other gentleman’s clubs she had searched out over the last five years. Right down to the pulsating lights, topless women, and the smell of perfume and alcohol. But sitting back against the chair's hardwood, she knew this one was different. She could feel it in the power that radiated just below her skin. She lifted her eyes to the stage she had been avoiding looking at since she walked in through the heavy wooden doors and felt the hairs on her arms lift. The stage before her was slightly elevated and flooded with lights. Fog rolled across its floor, presumably from the large machines off to the side. Purples and blues pulsed in time to the music being pushed out from the large speakers overhead. But it was what was happening on the stage that had Liora's skin goose-pimpled and every nerve on high alert. The stage that had just held several topless women in varying degrees of gyration was now empty save for the largest man she’d ever seen standing in the middle of the stage. Tattoos racing up both arms over biceps she was certain could crush bones. Shirtless, his chiseled chest and rippled abs shone with oil. Black leather pants, hanging low on his hips, barely contained the thighs that looked like they would rip the seams of the leather. On his wrists, iron manacles attached to chains ended in massive bolts drilled into the floor with just enough slack for the man to lift his arms to the sides. Long, straight black hair flowed over his bronze shoulders. His chin was lifted as if in a challenge, and his midnight black eyes burned brightly. Men, old and young, with a few women, pressed against the front and sides of the stage, jeering at the young man chained to the stage. Two scantily clad women appeared on either side of him with whips in their hands, and the raucous crowd became louder. Both women, each with long red hair and equally long legs, stalked toward the front of the stage, and wicked smiles slashed across their red lips. Tiny crimson bikini tops barely covering huge breasts, matching thong bottoms and red stiletto heels completed their enticing ensembles. Stopping just outside the reach of the people gathered around the stage, one of them placed a blood-red nail to her lips, commanding silence. As one, the crowd fell silent. Liora watched, enthralled at what was happening before her. The thumping music was the only sound in the room. She carefully looked around and noticed not a single person moved. It was like time was frozen before her. No one took a drink, spoke, or shifted in their seat. She could feel Jameson and the rest of the patrons in the bar were still there as well. The only movement came from the three individuals on the stage. Liora could feel a strange energy crackling around her. She breathed, willing her heart to slow its thundering beat. The two women had now walked back to where the man stood. Liora could see his chest quickly rising and falling with his fear that was now palpable in the room. She could smell it, but his eyes did not falter or give anything away. Sweat broke out across his brow in large droplets. She felt her own fear building and quickly quenched it. Not here. She couldn’t allow her fear to rise to the surface. She held perfectly still in her seat to avoid drawing attention to herself. Suddenly, one of the women lifted her whip and brought it down hard across the man's back, immediately drawing ribbons of blood to the surface. The man jerked under the pain but refused to cry out. Liora looked closely at the whips the women held and saw the tiny iron shards at the ends. The sight of the blood seemed to break the trance in the room. People began moving again, this time gravitating towards each other. She could hear low moans and groans and watched as individuals came together. A man had a woman backed up against the stage, her skirt pulled up, showing her black lace underwear. One hand snaked over the top of the lace, the other pushing up under her shirt, but both their eyes were on the stage. Two men grabbed each other, reaching for each other's pants, eyes locked on the stage. A woman was sandwiched between two men. Her shirt was pulled up, and their mouths had found her breasts, working her n*****s, sucking and biting. All three couldn't tear their eyes from what was happening on the stage before them. Liora shivered under the trance-like atmosphere and took in the view that everyone else was staring at. Her stomach twisted at the sight. The women had taken turns whipping their captive as blood now ran like a river down his ruined back. One of the women rubbed her ample breasts along his back, smearing herself with his blood. Her companion had dropped her whip and slid to her knees before the woman. She began licking the blood from her stomach with long, hungry strokes of her tongue. The woman standing threw back her head in pleasure, continuing to rub blood down the top of her thighs. The male fell to his knees on the floor in pain, allowing no sound to escape his lips. The women turned to him, and Liora realized in horror that the one on her knees suddenly had a knife in her hand. Where it had appeared from, she had no clue. She could only watch as the woman crawled towards him. The long blade shined in the stage lights, its black handle covered in swirls and symbols. The man knelt, head down, shaking in pain. The woman stood to her feet and slowly walked behind him. Liora held her breath as the woman ran her hands through his hair, tangling her fingers in it and suddenly jerking his head back to expose his throat. The crowd, a writhing sea of bodies, began chanting. Liora couldn't make out what they were saying. She only knew she was the only one still in her seat. Even the bar patrons had made their way down in front of the stage and had been enveloped by the crowd. "Guenhyvar nim ent alusfaen rillis, sar Foqal thee, sar Kaweh thy lahr Tel Akai'ye ik nevae ent Avae, eshaal alusfaen ent Guenhyvar, sar shall renew." The chant became louder, and bodies began to sway in unison. The woman at the front smiled wickedly, pulling back the male's head further and exposing his throat. The other woman had shed what little clothing she'd had and was laid out before him, covered in his blood. Eyes glazed over as she spread her legs and reached between them with her hand. Fingering her c**t, sliding one finger inside herself. The crowd's chanting became louder, and Liora watched in horror as the knife plunged down into the pulsing carotid artery of the male on his knees.