Читать книгу Let the Games Begin - Niccolo Ammaniti - Страница 20

13

Larita.

She was the chosen one. They would sacrifice the singer from Chieti Scalo to the Lord of Evil. During the party, Mantos would decapitate her with the Durendal.

‘Beats a nun any day . . . I'll show you, Kurtz,’ Saverio sniggered while he started jumping around the living room.

What would happen once everyone knew that the singer who had sold ten million copies across Europe and Latin America, and had sung in front of the Pope on Christmas Day, had been decapitated by the Wilde Beasts of Abaddon? The news would be printed on the front page of newspapers across the globe. It was would rank there with John Lennon and Janis Joplin . . .

Saverio hesitated. Was Janis Joplin actually assassinated?

Who cares. All he cared about at that moment was that, with such a deed, he'd be remembered for ever. Websites, forums and blogs would be dedicated to him. His face would be printed on thousands of young boys’ t-shirts. And Satanist groups for generations and generations would be inspired by the figure of Mantos, and they would be charmed by his charismatic and psychotic personality, just like Charles Manson.

Saverio grabbed Serena's iPod from the credenza next to the front door. He was sure that his wife had something by the singer. And in fact she did. He pressed play. The artist began singing in her melodious voice, rich with octaves, about a love story between two teenagers.

Disgusting!

That disgusting woman had brought together the two things he hated most in the world: love and teenagers.

From the drinks cabinet he pulled out a bottle of Jägermeister and had a suck.

It was so bitter.