Dave Lennox ran his hand through his prematurely gray hair. "Look, guys, you can't use clips from a snuff movie in your next video, and I don't give a shit if the bag lady's spurting blood is the effect you're looking for."

Three of Satanstorm's members grumbled while the fourth came to the manager's defense. "Maybe Dave has a point. Showing a real death might be going a little far. The assholes from the PMRC are still up in arms about Cletus the Fetus."

The group's guitar player, Kris Blight, frowned. "That's the best song I ever wrote. They didn't like it 'cause the truth hurts. They have no right to--"

The band's drummer, Sledge Hampton, broke in. "Don't get up on your soapbox. Jon's got a point. We're going to be headlining our own tour in a couple months. We don't need any more negative crap than we usually generate."

Jon Blight spoke again, addressing his manager. "We could use something eye-catching, though."

"Can't we get Savin! or somebody to recreate the bag lady flick?"

Dave opened his briefcase and took out a stack of bills. He set them on the kitchen table along with a bank statement. "We can't even afford to hire my nine year old and his box of crayons."

"Well, you'd better have enough for the bloody pizza guy. I'll let him in," Luce Hampton, the bass player, said as he got up from the table and headed toward the door.

"He's not even --" Dave stopped short as the doorbell rang at the front of the house. He took out his wallet and tossed it to Luce. "How does he do that?"

Sledge shrugged his shoulders. "He's got the gift, same as our mum."

"So what about the video?" Kris Blight interrupted. "We need something different!*

###

Bruce James was in his usual booth in Abbeville's only restaurant, Robert E. Lee's, wondering what he could print in his weekly newspaper when the oddest-looking group of people entered.

Bruce called to Helen and Bob Lee, then gave a quick look at the calendar to see if he bad forgotten Halloween. He hadn't. It wasn't for some time
yet. He got up to greet the strangers. They seemed familiar somehow.

Helen came out of the kitchen. She was obviously taken aback by the strange appearance of her customers. She also glanced at the calendar. "HI I'm Helen Lee. Would you -- gentlemen --like something to eat?"

The tousle-haired, leather-clad quartet looked at one another. The tallest member spoke. "Sure. Burgers, fries, beer if you have it."

"Will do," Helen said as she marked the order in her receipt book. "Bruce, would you show them to a table?"

Bruce took the strangers to the largest table in the small restaurant. He remembered where he'd seen these people as he sat with them, uninvited. "Hey, aren't you Satanstorm?"

"Yeah," the red-haired one answered in a surly British accent. "You seen us play?" :

"Not exactly. I saw one of your posters over at the Record Rama in Haysville not long ago."

The Englishman muttered something obscene.

"If you don't mind my asking, what brings you fellas to Abbeville? We don't get many heavy metal bands passing through," Bruce said lightly.

"You're joking," the one with the purple- streaked hair answered sarcastically. He was ' British as well.

"Knock it off, Sledge," Jon Blight said. "We were on our way to check out a location for our next video when our van broke down."

"Well, Billy Merdes should have your van fixed in no time. He's the best mechanic for miles -actually, he's the only mechanic for miles."

No one laughed at the lame joke. Bruce was glad to see Helen coming from the kitchen with the food.

"Here you go boys, Robert E. Lee's finest," she said as she passed out the plates.

Bob Lee came in the front door with two six-packs of beer. "J. J.'s only carries two brands, so I brought one of each." He put the beer on the table and pulled up a chair, as did his wife. "Hope you boys don't mind us joinin' you, but we don't get many out-of-towners."

"So your scribbling little friend said," Luce Hampton muttered, referring to Bruce's note taking.

"Knock it off," Jon snapped. He brushed a lock of long black hair from his face. "Don't pay attention to Luce or Sledge. They get carried away with our image."

Helen smiled. "I don't mean to be snoopy, but just what is your image?" ,

They're a rock and roll band, Helen -Satanstorm," Bruce supplied quickly.

Jon smiled. That's right. I'm Jon Blight. This is my brother, Kris, and they're Sledge and Luce Hampton."

That's Luce as in Lucifer."

Kris finished his burger. "Don't mind Luce, Ma'am. He's just a pussycat at heart. He even does embroidery between gigs." He laughed loudly when Luce's cheeks flushed the same shade of crimson as his moused-out hair.

"Aw, go fu--"

"So," Bruce interrupted. "You said that you were going to do a video -- around Abbeville?"

Jon popped open a beer. "Maybe. One of our roadies is from someplace near here, and he said that Wilcox County is the perfect place for us."

Sledge grumbled. "Yeah, well, Timmie don't know shit. We've been all over this hick county and haven't found a decent place yet."

Helen began to clear away the empty dishes. "What is it you're looking for?"

"We don't know, exactly," Jon said. "Our CD's gonna be called Dead in the Night, and we need someplace that would look good in a horror flick."

Bruce James grinned. "I know the perfect place--the old Darnley house out near Highway 26."

Helen was shocked. "Bruce, no!"

The members of Satanstorm looked at each other. "Why not?" Sledge Hampton asked. "What's wrong with this place?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, but it's been deserted for years and --"

"A kid was murdered there last year," Bruce said.

"He wasn't murdered. The sheriff said ..."

"That it was an accident. I know." Bruce raised his eyebrows.

Luce Hampton leaned forward. "C'mon. Tell us about this accident."

Bruce was wide-eyed like a kid telling ghost stories at summer camp. "Well, a high school kid bet his friends that he could spend the night in the Darnley house. It's a big spooky place right out of the Addams Family and Psycho."

"Anyway, Randy's friends came back before dawn, planning to scare himby putting on monster masks, but when they went inside, they got the scare." Bruce paused for effect. "What they found was Randy, dead on an old velvet sofa in the parlor. The crystal prisms from the chandelier above him had fallen and sliced him to bloody ribbons."

Helen daubed her eyes with the hem of her apron. "That boy stood six-foot-one and they buried him in a baby-sized coffin."

Brace spoke again. "What's really weird is that when the police and ambulance first arrived, all the prisms were hanging back up on the chandelier and there wasn't a fingerprint anywhere in sight."

###

Kris Blight jumped out of the car as soon as Brace stopped it. "All right! This'll be perfect!"

Bruce smiled as he watched the band looking at the empty Victorian mansion. The setting sun provided the perfect eerie glow. "Like I said, it's been deserted for as long as anyone can remember, but it's still in pretty good shape."

Brace never could figure that one out. The house should have been completely dilapidated by now, and yet it had always looked like this --neglected, with no serious problems that a good dose of elbow grease and a little stain remover couldn't fix -- or rather, a lot of stain remover. "We can go in. It's open."

Luce Hampton remained outside staring up at the window in the tower that projected from the front center of the mansion.

Jon Blight looked out the front door. "Whatsamatter, Luce, you afraid to come in?"

Luce told him to do something physically impossible. "I was just wondering about that yellow light in the window up there."

"It must be the sun setting. C'mon. You gotta see the inside. There's dried blood everywhere; it's great," Jon said cheerfully.

Luce looked at the upper window again. The yellowish glow was still there, but in a different place. He glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting behind the house. He shrugged his shoulders at the inconsistency and went inside.

In the tower room, the glowing shapes began to take on human form. They were women. One was petite and fair, and dressed in a tattered, bloodstained blue dress. The other was larger, darker and wearing a plaid gown, the bottom of which was badly singed. She was the first to speak.

"Who and what are they?" ;

"I don't know about the who, but the what is simple. They're men."The fair one placed her hand on her sister's arm. "Luanda ~ I know what you're thinking Don't."

"Men don't deserve to be alive."

"Oh, Lucinda, really. It is so dull here. Let's at least see what they want . . ." Sarah Darnley's voice trailed off as the front doors slammed shut. She glided over to the window and sighed as she saw the young men get into their car and drive away. She sighed again and faced the ghost of her older sister. "Now they're gone. You're no fun, Lucinda, you never were."

Lucinda smiled sardonically. "Shut up, dear, or I'll kill you -- again."

Later that night, the members of Satanstorm were in their room at the Abbeville Motel discussing the scenario of their video when Luce said casually, "By the way, that place is haunted." The other band members stopped talking and stared at him. "It is. I could feel 'em watching us."

"Is poor little Lucey afwraid to go into the big haunted housey?" Kris teased.

"Give him a break," Sledge said seriously. He turned to his brother. "What did you see?"

"Nothin', really. I just felt it."

Jon was clearly interested. "Anything else? Were they evil like Amityville. Did they murder that Randy kid?"

Luce shrugged his tattooed shoulders. "I don't know."

Kris grabbed his leather jacket from the foot of the bed. "Let's check it out." He took his guitar from the closet.

Jon and Sledge looked to Luce for his opinion. Luce reached for his bass. "Why not? Mum always said that our music could wake the dead!"

The Darnley house stood like a dark, menacing sentinel in the glow of the moon. Jon Blight looked at it appreciatively as he got out of the van and wished that he had his video camera.

"Hey, big brother, wanna stop admiring the scenery long enough to help me with this generator?"

Sledge Hampton began moving his drums inside as Luce took the guitars. He glanced up at the tower window. The weird lights were still there. Luce grinned. He had a feeling that tonight would be interesting.

It was near midnight by the time the musicians finished setting up their equipment. The ghostly manifestations began soon after.

The mansion suddenly began to vibrate as though a mammoth locomotive were thundering outside the front doors. Satanstorm responded by shaking the house with an extended version of their loudest number -- Deathrattle. The banshee-like wails that soon echoed from the upper floors were no match for Jon Blight's trademark -- a rebel yell that cracked the panes in both parlor windows.

As the band finished their ominous Wells of Hell something brown began oozing down the parlor walls. The viscous substance carried with it an odor reminiscent of decaying animal matter. It

went unnoticed until Kris Blight added to the stench by breaking wind. Jon, Luce and Sledge held their breath and waved their arms frantically, trying to circulate the air. Kris grinned sheepishly. "I guess I should've listened to you guys about that third burrito."

While the band played some of their favorite Led Zeppelin tunes, they were treated to a light show. They purposely ignored it. Luce Hampton watched the phosphorescent lights from the corner of his eye. They darted about the room at high speed for at least fifteen minutes before disappearing through the ceiling.

The band played on even as the huge chandelier above them began to shake. They didn't even miss a single note when the razor-sharp prisms began dropping from the chandelier's outer edges, embedding themselves into the floorboards at their feet.

There would have been no reaction to the supernatural goings on at all if a tarnished candelabrum, thrown by unseen hands, hadn't bounced off the side of Luce's amplifier.

"Enough with the bloody parlor tricks! That amp cost ten thousand pounds!"

The floating lights reappeared and materialized into Sarah and Lucinda Darnley.

Sledge smirked. "It's about time."

"Chicks, it figures," Kris mumbled.

Jon stared at the apparitions. They were something of a disappointment. "So, you're the ghosts, huh?"

Lucinda held up her charred right hand. It detached itself from her wrist and a great spurt of glowing ectoplasm covered the floor.

Luce applauded half-heartedly. "Not bad. Not good, but not bad." The others agreed.

The Darnley sisters looked at each other quizzically. "Why aren't you afraid?" Lucinda demanded.

Jon laughed. "We've been on tour with Guns 'n' Roses, Motley Crue, and Ozzy Osbourne -nothing scares us anymore."

The ghostly sisters looked at one another again.

Lucinda glared at the band as she reattached her hand. She made one of the fallen prisms dance in mid-air, its sharp point a hair's breadth away from the young men's throats. They didn't even flinch. She made the prism nick Luce's throat.

He calmly wiped the blood away with his fingers, then licked them. "Mmmmm, lots of iron, just the way I like it."

Lucinda scowled and the prism fell to the floor, shattering into tiny fragments. If you aren't going to cower, it won't be very amusing to kill you."

"Lucinda!" Sarah gasped.

Lucinda scowled more.

"Why don't we put them in the video, Jon?* Luce joked.

"Yeah. It'll save money on special effects," Kris agreed.

"While we're at it, let's take 'em on tour next month," Sledge chimed in.

Jon stared at the ghosts a moment. "Why not? You want to join the act, 'perform' on stage while we play our music?"

"Yes!" Sarah Darnley shouted.

"Don't be silly," Lucinda said. "This is where we died; this is where we're bound."

"How do you know?" Jon asked. "Did you ever try to leave?"

"No, but ~ "

Lucinda cut her sister off. "We studied spiritualism when it first came into fashion, young man. We know all about differing planes of existence, and - "

"Yeah, but did you ever try to leave?"

Suddenly, Sarah transformed herself into the light and disappeared, returning only moments later, "I did it, Lucinda!"

"If we can leave the house, we can't leave Abbeville itself," Lucinda said matter-of-factly.

"You won't know until you try, luv," Luce said.

Sarah glided towards him and ran her spectral hands over his muscular, leather-clad body. The rocker moaned. "Let's try, Lucinda. Let's try!"

The End