Three months later...

The band's composition had finally solidified. After three months of trial and error—three months of hard practice, hard work, and rehearsal—they had transformed from a collection of individuals into a cohesive unit.

Compared to her prior experiences with her old band—she still missed all of them, even though she couldn't recall a lot of their details from her fragmented memories—Aubrey had discovered that her new bandmates proved surprisingly adept and talented.

Liza possessed impeccable rhythm and timing—she even kept beat by tapping her foot. The violinist provided consistent and immaculate bowing strokes. The girl could even sight-read sheet music if Aubrey jotted down her lyrics and chord progressions. Liza's ability to pick up on complex melodies and rhythms proved impressive and formidable.

Thaddeus exhibited exceptional dexterity and coordination for someone comprised of a majority of cogs and gears. The automaton's precision and execution never faltered. He demonstrated the ability to transcribe Aubrey's compositions down to the most minute detail. Furthermore, his technical proficiency and prowess allowed him to make on-the-spot adjustments and changes as needed.

Cedric—true to Thaddeus' suggestions—pounded a mean drum set. The gargoyle's stone body lent itself to creating powerful and heavy beats. But what impressed her the most was Cedric's dedication and work ethic. He had spent weeks practicing and fine-tuning his skills.

In the short time since he had taken up the drums, Cedric had quickly mastered the fundamentals, allowing him to explore and develop his own personal style and technique. He often contributed interesting fills and grooves that added a unique flair to their songs.

Despite Aubrey's initial misgivings and uncertainties regarding her ability to form a successful band, the group's rigorous sessions and diligent practice had borne fruit, yielding a synergy that far exceeded her expectations.

As for herself—she learned one important factor of her Unhallowed existence.

She needed to feed on a human's strong emotions weekly to remain strong and healthy. The main stipulation was that she needed to be the catalyst for the emotions—whether fear or anger or happiness or joy. Otherwise, she drew no sustenance.

Neglect her appetite... and she weakened, looking rather gaunt and haggard while also feeling irritable.

Luckily she was able to perform in small gigs and locales to acquire her sustenance—small taverns, pubs, houses of ill-repute, whatever joint with an audience. As long as they were packed, she could gorge.

Her favorite parts of the show remained the crowd interactions and bantering with the audience. She loved watching the people go from stoic and reserved to dancing and going wild. Nothing like a little music to lighten the mood and loosen up the sticks in the mud.

From her observations, the locals—at least within Gallows Row—tended to display a more... boisterous and raucous temperament. Not a shocker. Gallows Row's denizens had a rougher and coarser mien.

Nonetheless. Aubrey did enjoy her encounters with the rowdier and tougher audiences. Those tough bastards could party.

Sadly... the crowds and patrons weren't exclusively composed of rowdy drunks and revelers. Sometimes the establishment's attendees could prove dull and unexciting. Aubrey couldn't feed off the customers' emotional highs when they displayed apathy and boredom.

But that was soon about to change.

Tonight was the night of their debut concert.

The date's arrival had both excited and stressed her. She had wanted to ensure that everything ran smoothly and according to plan.

"Everyone knows what to do if the Cogsworn Order or any constables arrive during our gig?" Aubrey double-checked with her bandmates.

"Retreat immediately and regroup back at the cathedral," the three recited the emergency exit strategy in unison.

"Perfect. Cool. Great. Remember the signals. If anyone sees constables or inquisitors arriving and entering the venue... the signal's 'coffee.' Anyone spies Cogsworn machinery and security automata... the signal's 'espresso.'"

The members nodded.

Aubrey had no fucking clue why her companions had selected beverage drinks as the emergency exodus sign. Nevertheless—if the code words ever got activated—Aubrey trusted her bandmates.

"Cool. Awesome. Great." Aubrey paced back and forth. "Next. Gear check."

"Mr. Cedric, the configuration of your drum set allows it to disassemble and compact into a portable arrangement." Thaddeus approached the gargoyle and explained. "Observe. The drum shells can unscrew and detach. The cymbals and hi-hats fold and retract. Likewise, the kick drum and bass can stack and reduce the piece's overall size."

"Most impressive," Cedric inspected the dismantled and compressed drum set.

"Furthermore, the drum pedals and throne can dismount and affix magnetically, significantly reducing their bulk and weight. Consequently, you can carry the disassembled set comfortably and swiftly, should the Cogsworn or city authorities infiltrate the venue."

"What about the amplifiers that you'll use?" Aubrey asked.

"My acoustic amplifier contains mechanisms that enable disassembly and portability."

"And my amp?" Liza inquired.

"Your acoustic amplifier is similarly built," Thaddeus verified.

Aubrey exhaled and relaxed. Excellent. All the gear could disassemble and evacuate without issues. Which meant that her band could make an emergency retreat and escape.

"Excellent. Everyone knows their parts and the setlist. Nothing should go wrong." Aubrey's worries diminished.

"Except... I feel nervous," Liza tugged at her skirt. Shadows seeped and surrounded her.

"Girl. Don't stress. Focus on the music. You're a phenomenal violinist. Own it. Flaunt it. Show everyone your skills," Aubrey reassured the fretful violinist.

Liza flashed a meek nod.

"Remember. You're not soloing tonight. Play a simple and clean accompaniment. Support Thaddy's bass. Enhance Ceddy's kicks and crashes. Back me up. Solid rhythm. Clear and precise."

Liza inhaled a shaky breath. Shadows retreated.

"Cool. Excellent. Good. Now... everyone gather." Aubrey gestured her bandmates to draw close. "Grab each other's hands. Form a circle. Clasp each other's palms. Everyone."

Her bandmates complied and clasped their digits.

"Tonight's the big show. First concert. Debut performance. Time to prove ourselves. Break the ice. Establish our credentials. Make a name for Unhallowed Harmony." Aubrey's crimson gaze traversed and met her companions. "Everyone's worked hard these past three months. Practiced and rehearsed endlessly. Fret not. We got this. No mistakes. Everything will turn out fine."

Aubrey paused and surveyed her bandmates. No objections. Cool. Excellent. Good.

"Ready? One. Two. Three. Break!" Aubrey released her companions' palms and pumped her fists.

The quartet cheered.

"Band... assembled," Aubrey grinned and struck a pose. "Ready. Let's roll."

The members donned their outfits. Aubrey wore a modified and customized black and red leotard and hotpants ensemble. A skull decal and emblem adorned the garment's front. She paired her outfit with fishnet stockings and fingerless gloves.

Black stiletto heels completed her attire.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Aubrey topped the look off with a spiked guitar strap and an extravagant blood-red top hat sporting a feather plume.

"Stylin'," Aubrey checked herself in a mirror.

"You look... beautiful," Liza complimented her.

"Thanks," Aubrey beamed a dazzling grin. "You too. Pretty gal."

"Me...? Really...?" Liza's cheeks reddened.

"Hell yeah. Turn around and check yourself out."

Liza obeyed and studied her reflection. The violinist wore a Gothic Lolita dress and ensemble. Black frills and a layered skirt accentuated her pale frame. Midnight-shaded leggings and stockings complemented the design and aesthetic. A crimson-lined mantle accented the attire and enhanced Liza's ethereal presence.

"Sexy. Rock and Roll. Kickass."

Liza's blush intensified.

"Ceddy. Thaddy. Looking sharp."

Those two needed the most work with disguising their appearances.

Concealing Cedric's wings would have been the most problematic thing to deal with, but apparently, he could just retract and meld them into his body. Aubrey wondered how the fuck that worked biologically—or anatomically—but didn't press the gargoyle for answers.

"Ceddy. Looking cool."

Cedric sported a thick hooded robe, its deep cowl obscuring his stone face and features. His clawed hands, covered in leather gloves, peeked out from the garment's sleeves and clutched a drumstick.

"Thaddy. Fashionista." Aubrey applauded the automaton's disguise.

Thaddeus adorned a crisp suit and trench coat. His fedora and a simple harlequin concealed his mechanical visage. Most of his exposed metallic limbs had been concealed beneath his formalwear.

"Sweet. Excellent. Cool." Aubrey approved the disguises. "Everyone ready?"

Everyone responded affirmatively.

"Hell yeah. Let's tear up the stage and blow the venue's roof."

----------------------------------------

Under the cloak of twilight, Unhallowed Harmony made their way through the winding, mist-shrouded alleys of Gallows Row. The destination was a nondescript edifice, tucked away in an inconspicuous corner. A battered placard hung above the door, its inscription barely discernible underneath years of rust and neglect.

"'Dead Poet's Pub,'" Aubrey squinted and deciphered the plaque. "Classy. Sounds morbid."

"Established decades ago...," Thaddeus analyzed the building's architecture. "The proprietor's descendants are said to continue his legacy and heritage."

"Sweet. Owned by a lineage. Family business. Respect."

Aubrey opened the entrance and motioned her bandmates to enter. Thaddeus went first, followed by Liza.

"Ceddy. Grab the equipment," Aubrey tasked the gargoyle.

Cedric lifted the drum set and entered the venue.

Aubrey entered the Dead Poet's Pub and shut the entryway.

Raucous and raunchy conversations dominated the interior. Patrons lined the counter and tables and drank and conversed. Smoke-filled the air, carrying the acrid aroma of tobacco. Aubrey detected hints of weed and opium.

As they set up, the curious glances of the early arrivers pierced the dim lighting. Judging by the patrons' rugged and grizzled looks... Aubrey guessed most—if not all—were probably ironworkers, factory employees, and laborers. A working-class establishment. Great. Exactly her target demographic.

Overall, the locale hosted a decent-sized gathering. Probably around sixty attendees. Excellent. The crowd's a good amount.

Between rehearsals that stretched into the early hours of the morning, Aubrey had spent the last couple of weeks weaving through the rowdy taverns and smoky dens of Gallows Row, her words laced with the promise of an unprecedented musical experience. Flyers, hand-drawn and illustrated posters, and leaflets advertising the venue, the date, and the time, Aubrey had distributed the information wherever she could.

And her gamble had paid off.

Enough curious attendees had decided to drop by the Dead Poet's Pub.

"Yo," Aubrey sauntered toward the bar.

She had paid a decent amount of shillings to secure the booking and venue. Might as well greet and acknowledge the proprietor and owners.

The middle-aged gentleman manning the counter arched a bushy eyebrow.

"Evening. Owner... correct?"

The individual grunted and confirmed her inquiry.

"Here's the coin and the fee. Pleasure doing business." Aubrey slid a pouch of shillings.

The owner swept the sack off the bar surface and pocketed the currency.

"We're Unhallowed Harmony. Starting band. Hope you'll provide us with the chance and opportunity. Appreciate your hospitality." Aubrey extended a hand.

The pubkeeper regarded her gesture with a skeptical air.

Aubrey continued, "I'm Nightingale. Frontwoman and lead vocalist. Thanks again."

The proprietor's gruff visage softened. Finally, he reciprocated her greeting.

"Cheers," Aubrey flashed a wolfish grin.

Behind her, Cedric set up the drum set. Thaddeus connected and prepared his and Liza's acoustic amplifiers.

Aubrey's gaze roved the venue. Most of the attendees had congregated at the counters and tables, sipping ale and liquor. Some had migrated closer and gathered near the stage. Excellent. Stage-side attendees meant more interaction. She preferred getting close and interacting with the listeners.

She leaped onto the performance area and addressed the crowd. "How's everyone doing tonight? Good?"

Most responded with indifferent nods. Others returned blank stares. The rest didn't bother to react.

Aubrey clicked her tongue in disapproval. She wanted people to scream and shout and make a lot of noise. Mute and unresponsive listeners weren't ideal.

Oh well. Once they hear them play...

Aubrey took her position and cradled Hellion's Cry. She adjusted her guitar's string gauges and knobs, tuned the machine heads, adjusted the intonation and the bridge, strummed and ensured a balanced resonance. Good. All tuned.

"Count us off," Aubrey tossed her command at Cedric.

"On cue. One. Two. One. Two. Three."

The opening chords of Unhallowed Harmony's first song cut through the air and sliced through the patrons' murmurs. Aubrey's fingers effortlessly danced across Hellion's Cry's fretboard. Notes and tones reverberated. Her distorted strings thundered.

Thaddeus punctuated her introduction with a bass line, establishing a syncopated groove and rhythm. Liza's violin joined and added layers and embellishments, while Cedric's kicks and crash cymbals complemented and punctuated the opening.

Then the vocals and the lyrics began.

Backed by a barrage of notes and tones—distorted and raw—Aubrey growled and spat the song's verses, accompanied by her guitar's crunchy and aggressive strums. Textures and grains layered and colored her delivery.

Aubrey's crimson gaze scanned the crowd, gauging their reactions.

A portion of the audience, perhaps those more accustomed to the rough cadences of factory work or the rhythmic pounding of the docks, found their bodies moving instinctively to the beat. They were the first to let go, bobbing their heads and tapping their feet.

Other patrons, perhaps those unused to the harsh sounds and grittiness, sat transfixed, their expressions a mixture of awe, intrigue, and bewilderment.

Still, a few listeners opted to ignore the performance altogether, preferring the comforts of their drink and their conversation, their faces set in impassive masks.

Aubrey ramped up the intensity. With practiced ease, her fingers raced along the fretboard, unleashing a torrent of rapid-fire notes and riffs. Liza and Thaddeus seamlessly supported her, keeping perfect time and rhythm.

Meanwhile, Cedric maintained a driving beat behind them all, his skillful playing providing the glue that held everything together.

As the song reached its climax, Aubrey poured everything into her performance, throwing caution to the wind. Summoning the full force and ferocity of her Unhallow physiology, she unleashed a primal scream, letting loose a guttural cry that seemed to shake the very foundations of the pub.

With that final note, the song came to an end, the echoes of her scream lingering in the air for a brief moment before fading into silence.

For a heartbeat, no one moved or said a word. The crowd stared at Aubrey and the band with stunned disbelief.

Then, slowly but surely, the spell was broken, and a raucous chorus of cheers and applause rose up, signaling the crowd's approval and enthusiasm. Encouraged by the response, Aubrey flashed a wicked grin and launched straight into the next song, her guitar once again blazing a trail of pure sonic fury.

As the set continued, Cedric and Thaddeus each took their turn in the spotlight, showcasing their instrumental prowess and talent. Liza also stepped up to the plate, delivering a spine-tingling solo that left the audience gasping for breath.

Aubrey gorged on the intense feelings generated by the audience. Euphoria flooded her veins as the sweet nectar of their emotions nourished her Unhallowed body. She basked in the energy, savoring every drop as if it were a fine wine.

By the time the band wrapped up the last song, the crowd erupted into a cacophony of reactions—cheers mingled with claps, and even a few whistles cut through the air, while some faces in the crowd wore expressions of thoughtful contemplation, their applause more measured, but no less enthusiastic.

With one final flourish of her guitar, Aubrey brought the set to a close, signaling the end of Unhallowed Harmony's debut performance.

[You’ve acquired a small amount of experience]

The responses that came were as varied as the crowd itself. Some in the audience were on their feet, their enthusiasm unbridled, faces alight with excitement and passion. Others still sat rooted to their chairs and seats, their expressions thoughtful and pensive, perhaps still processing the novel sounds and textures presented to them.

A rugged-looking man near the stage, his face alight with excitement, shouted, "Never heard anything like it—bloody brilliant!"

Meanwhile, a woman, cloaked in the dim light, added with a cautious smile, "It's... different. But I think I like it."

Still, another, an elderly gentleman, sitting a distance away, remarked dryly, "It's a tad loud, but not terrible."

Despite the mixed reaction, Aubrey was pleased.

"Thank you all for coming out tonight," she said. "We're Unhallowed Harmony and this is only the beginning."

With that, Aubrey and the band packed their instruments and equipment. The attendees resumed their drinking and conversations.

The owner—perhaps impressed by their performance—flashed a respectful nod. Aubrey returned his acknowledgment.

As Aubrey and her bandmates departed the Dead Poet's Pub, she reflected on the performance.

Overall... it wasn't bad. Still... room for improvement and refinement. Good debut concert.

Time will tell how the locals will respond and react to Unhallowed Harmony. Hopefully... she and the band could break ground and carve a niche.