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The show must go on.
This was one of the principal teachings of their dark faith. No matter what – even if you died on stage – the show must go on. Papas lived as rockstars and died as rockstars.
She knew this, and thus knew that the Papa Emeritus Zero would not chase after her even if he saw her leave the performance. But it still hurt like a bitch.
Sister Imperator clutched at her chest as she strode out of the Whisky a Go Go, ignoring the roadies’ surprise and confusion as she pushed past them and out through the back door. She felt as though she was going to vomit right then and there, and it wasn’t due to morning sickness. Envy, which writhed like a live wire, wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed until she wanted to scream with the pain.
She forced herself to take deep breaths, even as she walked further away from the venue. She couldn’t stand to watch him anymore. It had been a perfect performance. All the practice had paid off, and she could see how he worked his black magic on the crowd, weaving his spell and winning their hearts. She had been proud of him, watching him from above. Beautiful, otherworldly, and temptation incarnate – her Papa Emeritus Zero. Papa Nihil.
She had planned to break the news to him after the gig. The pregnancies of his other lovers had been a sore, albeit unspoken point between them, causing tensions that she refused to address directly because doing so would force her to admit that she felt possessive of him – something that was directly detrimental to her role as his Prime Mover. She was there to ensure his success in all aspects of the anti-Papacy, and that included marketing his sex appeal to the masses, as well as encouraging him to propagate his downline.
As his relations with other lovers had thus been left unaddressed between them, Sister Imperator had naively believed it would stay that way. Out of sight, out of mind, she told herself. It caused a strain in their partnership, but so long as she didn’t have to deal with his debauchery before her very eyes, she could tolerate it; she could take the time to tell herself each night that it was all for the success of their dark mission. She had also assumed that he wasn’t daft. Surely he felt how it affected her and their relationship, even if they never spoke of it. She thought he knew, especially when he watched her with those heterochromatic eyes of his, the white of his left iris aglow with arcane understanding.
Watching him kiss those women was like a knife to the gut. The way he ripped off the white band of his clerical collar, then fell to his knees before them and reached out to kiss them, touch them – he had done the very same to her, and loathe as she was now to admit it, he had stolen her heart each time. Had he used her for practice? So that he could perfect his art of seduction?
Sister Imperator slammed the door as she got into the taxi, startling the cab driver. She barked directions to the ministry and sat in seething silence as they made their way down the streets of Los Angeles. She’d been so happy, she thought, laying a hand on her lower belly, where her unborn child slept. Her child. She wouldn’t allow Papa Nihil the luxury of calling the child his.
She couldn’t believe it when she skipped a period. She had been on contraceptives, and as she’d received no word from Baphomet of some sort of anti-immaculate conception, it only meant one thing – that she was pregnant with Papa Nihil’s child. He was her only partner after their Unholy Matrimony, after all. Monogamy was not required of them, but there was something that held her in check – and that “something” was now what was causing her immense pain, causing her heart to rip and bleed under what felt like an onslaught of a thousand jagged thorns.
Sister hadn’t been trying to conceive, as her priority was her vocation as the Prime Mover. And yet it had happened. She hadn’t expected how it would fill her with joy. What she had foolishly hoped was that now that she was pregnant, he would stop what he did behind closed doors with other partners – now that she could bear his heir.
“Behind closed doors” – she let out a derisive scoff. What he’d sent was a message, knowing full well that she was watching. A message that he was no longer going to be discreet. He no longer needed to tiptoe around her fragile feelings, now that he was a rising star in the music industry. Now that he was the face of the Ghost project, Papa Emeritus Zero – the rockstar that he was destined to be.
Upon arriving at the Ministry, Sister Imperator marched to her room to pack her things… before realizing that there was nothing she wanted to take with her. Everything would remind her of him and of her job – both of which she’d decided to forsake the moment she saw him throw himself at those women. Papa Nihil could find another Prime Mover – love was a conflict of interest for them now, and if Sister Imperator had to deal with this cloying jealousy any further, she’d drive herself mad.
She could almost feel the Dark One laughing at her pain, her anguish – just because she loved Papa Nihil, a man she had to give up if she wanted him to succeed. Love was for fools, and she quickly found that she’d been the biggest one of them all.
Sister placed a hand on her stomach, suddenly realizing why, perhaps, Nihil hadn’t known his father. Her son wasn’t going to know his father either. He wasn’t to know how much his mother loved his father, because love… love was moot in the world that they lived in.
Sister Imperator walked the halls of the ministry one last time. It was mercifully empty, save for the memories. No living creature stopped her – not that they could.
When she walked out the door, she didn’t look back.
EPILOGUE?
And thus, the loss of Papa Emeritus Zero's Prime Mover, Sister Imperator, was what caused the Ghost project to stagnate after their fateful performance at Whisky a Go Go.