Satan's Sword (Imp Book 2) (21 page)

“Good idea,” I told him as I stuffed my license, some money and my car keys into the bag. “Better not run off on me with some hot looking Lady Godiva, you’ve got my car keys.”

We walked the five blocks up the road to the club while I goosed Wyatt with my tail. I’d changed my mind about the tail thing. It felt weird. It wasn’t an appendage I normally wore, but it was growing on me. I’d made it furry like my lower half, and jointed it considerably so I could swish it around like a cat, making sure to put tiny joints in the end so it acted as a finger. I foresaw an evening of fun with that tail.

We attracted a lot of attention just walking up the street, although honestly most of the attention was on me. I heard people speculating how I got my legs to bend in the manner of a goat with the little hooves, and much admiration on my wings. In response, I stretched out a wing behind Wyatt, arching and rustling it a bit. The ”Ooooo” noises were very gratifying.

Once we reached the doorman at the club, suddenly all the attention was on Wyatt. The vampire at the door stiffened, like someone had put a rod up his ass, and glared at my elf.

“Is this your idea of a joke?” he asked, incensed. “I don’t care if you’re invited; you’re not getting in dressed like that.”

“What a shame,” I replied. “And we were so looking forward to the party.”

The doorman noticed me for the first time and his eyes bugged out before that placid dull mask they all seemed to wear slipped over him. He glanced rapidly back and forth from the guest list to my face.

“Wyatt Lowrey and guest,” I told him helpfully. “I’m the guest. I hope that’s ok.”

“I thought you said these people were polite, with excellent hospitality, Sam.” Wyatt put an arm around my waist. Smooth move, since my waist was mostly hidden by wing.

“I’ve only had pleasant experiences with them so far, sweetie. This is very disappointing.” I pouted.

At that time another vampire came out the door, her eyes also bugging as she saw me. She elbowed the doorman sharply in the side, and gave him a furious glance before turning to me with that look of bland neutrality.

“Baal, I am so sorry you have been made to wait outside. Please come right on in.” She glanced at Wyatt and winced. “Both of you, please come in.”

I paused as we walked through the door and did a quick scan. The place was packed. Lights were dim with flashes of neon from the dance floor, the music pounded a bass heavy beat, and tables loaded down with food and huge, fantastic ice sculptures were off to the side. A bar, modern in chrome and black granite, serpentined around the entire left side of the huge room.

Wyatt had shown me his hacked list of the guests, so I wasn’t surprised to see local and state politicians, a few notable news anchors and morning shock jocks, and some recognizable celebrities. Nobody A-list, but not community theater either. Others must have been local businessmen and women from the way they were working the room.

The vampires were easy for me to recognize. There was just something about them that clearly identified them as non-human, although Wyatt and the other humans couldn’t seem to see this difference. There looked to be about ten vampires in the room, with varying degrees of power. Oddly enough, they were either clustered together or lined awkwardly against the wall, like social outcasts as a high school dance. They eyed the humans with a kind of nervous longing, as it were beyond their skills to engage them in small talk. I found the whole thing terribly amusing.

Our female escort parked us at the bar and exchanged a quick glance with the bartender before wishing us a lovely evening. The bartender was human, but unlike the rest of the humans in the room, he seemed to recognize the vampires and be able to tell their social ranking. He glanced at Wyatt’s costume in surprise, hiding a quick grin. This human clearly understood how his bosses might react to an elf, and found it rather funny.

“Can I get you a drink, Baal and companion?” he asked, with warmth that had been lacking in our interaction with the vampire staff.

“The Companion will have whatever you’ve got on tap.” Wyatt was having as much fun as I was with this whole thing. “My Evil Mistress would like your best vodka.”

A few of the humans sidled up to me and began admiring my wings. A rather well known Baltimore journalist asked if she could touch them. I assented and watched one of the vampires along the wall clench his fists in frustration as she fawned over them. Clearly, I owed Candy a big apology. I should never doubt her. This party was just a big gift basket of goodies for the vampires, who were picking out their snacks for the evening. Wyatt’s outfit had gone unnoticed so far, as we were hidden in a mob of humans pawing my wings and furry ass. I hadn’t gotten this felt up in, well, in forever. Happy to reciprocate, I used my tail to grope the crotches around me, and heard quite a few squeals and laughs. The vampires along the wall were now glaring at me.

The bartender delivered our drinks, biting back a smile and trying to mimic the bland expression the vampires habitually assumed when they interacted with me. I glanced down at the glass of vodka and hoped those lessons with Gregory hadn’t deserted me.

“Stand back,” I warned the bartender, “I saw this in a cartoon once and I think I can do it.” Taking the glass of vodka in my hand, I froze it. It was supposed to cover the glass with lovely frosty etchings and chill the vodka. Instead the glass shattered, sending shards and frozen vodka through the air and onto the humans. A bit overkill, but I had been practicing ice and not chill. The bartender had been smart enough to heed my warning, but a human next to me shrieked and grabbed a napkin to staunch the blood from her cut arm.

“I think the vodka will sterilize the cut,” I told her. “You may want to retain a lawyer though. Cheap fucking glasses in this place. You’re probably permanently maimed. You might need amputation.”

A man beside the injured woman offered to take her for stitches. They left and I instructed the bartender that everyone should receive a vodka shot. He’d just lined up a row of shots when I saw a male vampire coming toward me with a rather pinched expression on his face. Such an expression ruined the looks of what was probably a rather handsome vampire of Latino descent. Pity.

“Baal, we do have cold vodka,” he told me, wringing his hands. “We certainly don’t expect our guests to have to chill their own beverages.”

I waved my hands around in my best imitation of a magician and grinned at him. “No, I can do this. Really. I’ve been working on it at home. My angel has informed me that it’s important to master this skill, so I need to take every opportunity to practice.”

I managed to chill five out of eight glasses. Two burst in a spray of icy vodka and glass, and the other cracked down the middle. I made a show of licking vodka off the bar with a long forked tongue while the humans applauded in delight. By this point, I’d attracted the entire club. The vampires glared from their spots, the placid expression finally slipping from their faces. Just to add to the fun, I chewed up one of the shot glasses and swallowed the chunks, dribbling blood out of my mouth and onto the floor.

“Do you do shows?” a human dressed as Osama Bin Ladin asked. “I’d love to book you for our sales convention this year.”

“Aren’t you in that Gwar band?” another asked.

“No, idiot.” His friend, whose Batman costume left a lot to be desired, punched him. “She’s in Hollywood special effects.”

“Let’s dance,” I told Wyatt and led him onto the dance floor.

This brought Wyatt out into the open from the huddled crowd of humans and to the attention of the line of vampires. I felt angry energy like a whip coming off them. There wasn’t a placid face in the crowd. It was nice to know they could be jolted into revealing emotion.

Wyatt and I danced as the humans slowly migrated to the dance floor and to us again. I was having fun stroking him all over with my tail. I couldn’t wait until tonight. There were all kinds of things I wanted to do with this tail. I hoped Wyatt was up for some kinky experimentation.

“Sam, if you don’t calm down with that tail, we’re going to need to find a room,” he laughed. “Either that or I’m going to be spending the evening with a big wet spot on my elf pants.”

I reluctantly pulled the tail away, and extended its length a few feet so I could molest nearby dancers. Flexing a wing, I knocked over a gargoyle ice sculpture and broke the head off.

“Oops.” I bent over to pick up the ice and smacked my horns on the table, sending a tray of carrot sticks flying and spilling a bottle of sparkling water across the damask tablecloth. I also knocked one of the guests flat onto the floor with my outstretched wing. This party was clearly not set up to accommodate demons.

“No, no, Baal, let me,” said the Latino vampire who’d offered the chilled vodka earlier. He’d been following me around, watching me with a flutter of anxiety on his pinched face. “Maybe you and your companion would like a private area for a while?”

“Oooo, you have one of those chocolate fountains,” I said as I stood up. Unfortunately my horns were hooked on the tablecloth and food trays slid off the table. “Sorry about that. Damned horns,” I told him as I ripped myself free from the cloth and proceeded to the fountain, dangling a torn section of tablecloth from one of my horns.

I stepped over the guy sprawled on the floor, who was nursing bloody nose, and eyed the chocolate fountain. I’d always wanted to buy one of these. It would make a great Christmas gift for Candy, who was a raging chocoholic. There was an assortment of goodies to dip in the pouring dark stream. Pineapple, apples, pound cake, strawberries, cheeses, and pretzel rods. No orange slices though. Nothing is better than chocolate and orange. Nothing.

I skewered some fruit and cheese onto a pretzel stick and coated it with chocolate. Not bad. My finger coated with chocolate was just as good. Not that I ate the finger, although that did seem like something I’d want to try in the future.

“Come here Wyatt,” I called. “I’ll bet this chocolate is just as good on your fingers, too. Mmmm, I am getting an inspiration here. This could possibly be one of the best sex toys ever. I wonder if I can convince the vampires to give it to us?”

“It would never fit in your Corvette.” Wyatt looked at the huge basin of chocolate. “Even if it disassembled, it would be too big. Plus, you’d get chocolate all over your car seats. You know how you get about stuff on your car seats. I think we’re better off hitting up Bed Bath and Beyond in the morning.”

The Latino vampire had escorted the bloody nosed man to the door and made it back to my side in an inhuman burst of speed. I’d given up on fingers and stuck my long, forked tongue into the chocolate. Unfortunately the tongue wasn’t shaped for optimal conveyance of chocolate, so I put my mouth into the stream and slurped it like a water fountain.

“This fucking rocks,” I told the vampire, noticing that several of the other humans were heading to the door.

“I can put it in a private room for you to enjoy,” the vampire suggested in a tone of desperation.

“I wish I could take it home,” I told him.

“I will personally drive it to your house right
now
.” He sounded on the verge of panic.

“Juan, why don’t you see to our other guests,” a smooth, soft, male voice said. I could actually feel the energy, the power, from this guy. It was soft and soothing, like a warm, fuzzy electric blanket that comforts you right before it shocks you in the leg. It was about time the boss man got here.

So this is what the real vampires look like
I thought, eyeing the guy over and thinking this must be one of the old ones that Candy was talking about. Funny, because he didn’t look old. Maybe early thirties in human years tops. He was an attractive guy with dark hair, gelled and tousled, and grey eyes. His mouth turned up at the edges slightly, as if the humor of the world were too much for him to keep bottled up inside. His eyes belied the faint smile though. They were hard, calculating, ruthless, and right now they looked pissed in his bland, mild, expressionless face. I got the feeling that he was pissed at others besides me.

“Whoa, where did you come from sweet cheeks?” I put a chocolate smeared hand on the sleeve of his dove grey, cashmere jacket. I’ll give the guy credit, he didn’t flinch, didn’t grimace, didn’t even look down at the ruined, expensive fabric.

“Baal, my name is Kyle Fournier and my staff and I respectfully welcome you here to Bang. We’re honored by your presence here with your companion.” He choked a bit on the companion part as he saw Wyatt and his costume. “Your companion. I’d like to speak to you privately to convey a special privilege to you and to present you with a token of our esteem.”

Well, Kyle did know his stuff. Demons love gifts, and anything described as a “special privilege” was something I wanted to know about. I wondered if this was like those timeshare meetings I always got suckered into where I’d need to invest in his high rise in order to get the fruit basket and commemorative charm bracelet. I hoped not. That would be terribly disappointing.

“Wyatt, why don’t you dance with that nice woman over there?” I indicated one of the vampire women lined up against the wall. She looked at me in alarm. “Those poor women have been ignored all night. She looks like she could use a little male attention.”

Wyatt headed toward the woman who looked beseechingly at Kyle. He nodded at her, and she took Wyatt’s proffered arm as if it were contaminated, and walked with him to the dance floor. I really wanted to stay and watch them dance, but I had a gift in the offering, so I motioned to Kyle and followed him into an office behind the bar.

The room was a typical manager’s office. There was an old desk and swivel chair, two chairs that looked like they had previously gone with a restaurant table, and several filing cabinets. The desk had stacks of papers on it, and the huge Towson Custom Motorcycles calendar behind the chair had scribbled notes on each of the days. A few cases of beer sat along the wall beside the door. I plopped down on one of them and yanked the scrap of table cloth off my horns, wiping the chocolate off my face as best as I could. I had a feeling this would become a serious conversation, and I had a hard enough time being taken seriously without a white flag flapping from my head.