Page 29 of No Charm Done

“And?”

“And you’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

Luna considered this. “Someone more . . . flashy and superficial, I guess. Someone who’d try to saw me in half.”

He shrugged. “The night’s young.”

“Ha, good luck with that.”

As they approached the intersection of West 3rd Street and 6th Avenue, the sounds of revelry grew louder. And when they turned the corner, Elias stopped dead in his tracks.

“What in the Sam Hill . . . ?”

Across the street, in front of what appeared to be a small theater, the most extraordinary gathering he’d ever witnessed was taking place. About fifty people had assembled on the sidewalk, and every single one of them looked like they’d raided the costume department of a particularly deranged vaudeville house.

A tall figure in the center wore an elaborate corset, fashioned from black leather and studded with metal spikes. Fishnet stockings climbed impossibly long legs, and a cape that would have made Dracula himself envious billowed dramatically in the humid night air. The whole ensemble was topped off with wild, teased hair and makeup that belonged either on a stage or in a fever dream.

Around this central figure, the crowd had arranged itself in a wide circle. The men—well, maybe they were men? Elias wasn’t certain—wore tuxedos and the women—again, maybe—shimmied in elaborate gowns that sparkled under the streetlights, their hair piled high in impossible configurations. One particularly striking individual, who was seemingly neither female nor male (or both at once?), was dressed in glittering gold from head to toe, happily tap dancing in the middle of the street.

The crowd began to move—not chaotically, but in unison. Choreography. Their voices rose together in some kind of chant or song, though the words were lost in the distance and the ambient noise of the darkened city.

One thing was certain: whatever was happening over there, it was drawing quite an audience. People had begun to gather on their side of the street as well, laughing and calling out encouragement to the performers . . . or worshipers . . . or whatever they were.

“Well,” he straightened his tie, “if we’re going to figure out what’s going on in this godforsaken decade, we may as well start with whatever that is.”

Chapter 9

The Time Warp

Luna had seen plenty of weirdness in her travels. She’d witnessed a coven of Albanian witches summon a thunderstorm with nothing but yodeling. She’d watched a Sufi mystic levitate three feet off the ground while reciting the “Epic of Gilgamesh.” But nothing truly prepared her for a full Rocky Horror Picture Show shadow cast performing on a street corner in the middle of a blackout.

How do I even begin to explain this? she thought. Shaw had been utterly baffled by her brief mention of a Steve McQueen movie earlier . . . How could she make him understand an iconic cult film about a transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania?

The tall figure in the center—clearly playing the film’s main character, Doctor Frank-N-Furter—was a masterpiece. The boots and fishnets were architectural marvels, the corset was a work of divine engineering, and the makeup was applied with the precision of a Renaissance master. When they moved, it was with predatory grace that was half ballerina, half panther.

“Darlings!” Frank announced to the gathered crowd. “The show, as they say, must go on! Power or no power, rain or shine, apocalypse or tedium!”

A cheer went up from the performers. Luna could identify the full cast now: Columbia in her gold tap shoes, Brad and Janet looking appropriately square, Eddie with his saxophone. Even without the movie screen, the cast had recreated the entire world.

“What exactly are you all supposed to be?” Elias called out, surprising Luna. She’d expected him to hang back, bewildered, but he was genuinely curious.

Frank whirled toward them with a predatory grin. “Well, well, well. What have we here? Fresh meat?”

“FRESH MEAT!” the crowd shouted in unison.

Elias took this more in his stride than Luna expected. “Ah. A participatory theatrical experience, I take it?”

“Precisely!” Frank purred, sashaying over. “You’ve never heard of The Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

“I have,” Luna said quickly, shooting a look at Elias. “It’s this . . . musical. About . . .” She paused, trying to figure out how to explain it without completely shocking the Gatsby prototype beside her. “Well, it’s about aliens and . . . um . . .”

“And sex!” added Janet helpfully.

“LOTS of sex!” agreed Columbia. “Frank-N-Furter has sex with everyone.”

“We-e-e-ll.” Frank’s voice oozed with false modesty. “I do my level best.”