Fallen: The Demontouched Saga (Book 2) (8 page)

I pull up the the front of the building and get out of the car. The first thing that catches my eye are the two armed men near the front door. In the past there would have been a few police officers stationed near the entrances, but something tells me these two guys aren’t cops.

We take our time walking up to the front door. The two guys look at each other and move together to block the doorway.

“What business do you have here?” The bruiser on the left says.

“We want to talk to the mayor about the meeting tomorrow. We have a few ideas on how we can speed up the restoration of power to the south side of town.”

They look at each other for a moment, clearly contemplating what I just said. It was a pure line of bullshit, but these two don’t seem like the type who would get that.

“The boss doesn’t have time to see anyone today.” He reaches in his pocket and hands me a flier. “He says you can ask him questions at the meeting tomorrow.”

“Clearly, you don’t know how this works.” I reach into my jacket and pocket and pull out my demon killing knife. I don’t notice smoke in their eyes, but I need this to be quiet. I slit the throat of the guy on the left while Az manages to impale the one on the right with his sword.

“So much for doing this the easy way.” Az says, entering the building.

“I don’t think those two would have let us past any other way.”

Azrael grunts and rushes down the right hallway. I follow close behind.

If our intel is right, the office is at the end of the hallway and to the left. I hate working with some outdated floor plans, but I’ve never had a reason to be here before. Politics are well beyond my skill set. The only thing I know about politicians is that they will promise you the moon to get elected into office just to give you a picture of a wheel of cheese when they got in. The higher up the ladder they got, the worse it was. I can’t say I blame them, though. Getting elected to congress or higher would have been a sweet gig. Sure, you had to put up with 6 years of bullshit once you got in, but once you did, you would be set for life.

The hallways are littered with layers of old papers on top of a filthy tile floor. I pass the bathrooms and notice a rat huddled underneath a rusty water fountain.

I let out a chuckle under my breath. How ironic that the place looks like a rats nest now. Now we just need to find the king rat.

We go around the corner and we see the office.

At least I think it is the office.

Every other door we have passed has been wide open. I can’t think of any other reason to keep the door shut.

“Shall we bust this party?” I ask.

“We shall.” Az kicks the door open and rushes up to the mayor. I walk into the room as Azrael puts his sword up to his throat.

Without a hint of panic the mayor asks “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

I sit down in a chair on my side of the desk and stick the tip of my knife into the wood. “You can start by telling me why you plan to kill thousands of people tomorrow.”

He tilts his head sideways. “What do you mean?”

I pull out the map and pass it to him. “There is a bomb at every red mark on that map. Someone is planning on destroying the convention center tomorrow during the meeting.”

“Where did you find this?” He asks, face starting to pale.

“On the body of one of the men placing them.” I pull out the knife and make it float just above the desk. “You have about ten seconds to tell me why you had the bombs put there before I push this knife into your skull.”

“Killing me won’t stop it. There is something much larger at work here. You either become a part of it, or you die.”

“I beg to differ.” I push the knife forward and stop it an inch before his face.

“Where do you think I am going to be when they set them off? I am going to be right in the middle of it all.”

“Then why do it? What did they promise you for doing it?” Azrael asks, lowering his sword.

“They promised to release my wife.”

“Who?”

“James Benson. He owns the the strip club Gemstones on the east side.” His face turns red and he starts to cry. “They took her there.”

I stare into the mayor’s eyes. It is hard to tell with the redness in his eyes, but he does look sincere. That doesn’t mean I am willing to step into a trap, so it is time to lay down the law.

“Here is what is going to happen. I am going to Gemstones to scope out the joint. My friend Azrael behind you is going to keep you company. If even one part of your story is a lie, he is going to cut your heart out. Am I clear?”

He just nods in agreement.

“Before I go, I need one thing from you.”

“What’s that?”

“A picture of your wife.”

-12-

Gemstones is one of those upscale strip clubs that caters primarily to the rich and privileged. It’s not the kind of place I would have been able to get in before, but they have lowered their standards a bit since the Rising.

I pull up to the front and immediately I can tell the Impala is going to stand out like a sore thumb in the parking lot. There isn’t any time to find a more appropriate car, so I pull into a spot towards the back of the lot.

I get out of the car and walk towards the entrance. I feel out of place wearing one Mayor Goldman’s suits, but my priest garb would stand out otherwise.

I walk up to a large bouncer that looks eerily like Mr. Clean and hand him two crisp Benjamins. Not every bouncer is corrupt, or can be bought, but most of them can. Why wouldn’t they? They could take your money now and just kick your ass out later if someone had a problem with it. Bouncers are not usually on the bright end of the scale, but they aren’t stupid enough to take cash from someone they don’t feel they can handle.

Too bad for Mr. Clean here, he doesn’t know what I am capable of.

I walk inside the club and take a seat on one of the middle tables. The stage seats are usually reserved for the high rollers or the extremely intoxicated. I don’t fit into either camp.

A waitress walks over in a short skirt that is leaving little to my imagination and a top that might as well not be there. I order a Jack and Coke and hand her a twenty. Freeloading is a quick way to get booted from a place like this. On a busier night they would probably charge a fee to get in, thankfully tonight is slow,

The waitress brings my drink and hands me a schedule. I look it over to see if the mayor’s wife is mentioned, but all the names are stage names. I’m just going to have to kick back and enjoy the show.

The first one up is a girl named Chandra. She is a dark skinned gal with some amazing legs. She has the attention of one of the high rollers up front who is throwing bills at her to the tempo of the jazz music on the sound system.

I look around the room and see three guys sitting at a round table in the corner near the bar. Apparently they don’t like Jazz Hands up there stealing all of Chandra’s attention. While a guy like that can be great for a woman like Chandra, it hurts the flow of money in the club.

A few moments later, Mr. Clean and a larger black man walk up to Jazz Hands and escort him out of the front door. Jazzy there is getting the equivalent of a slap on the wrist. If they wanted to send him a message they would have taken him out the back door and beat the crap out of him. That is more of a problem for the lower end establishments than places like this.

Chandra exits the stage a short time later. Normally when one girl leaves the stage, another one steps up on it. This goes back to the principals I set earlier. If the girls aren’t on stage, the guys are not as interested in keeping the booze flowing. If the booze isn’t flowing, the club isn’t making any money. Even if they were to take a portion of the girl’s money, they still need alcohol sales to operate in the black.

According to the schedule, up next is a girl named Kirstie. Unlike the other girls, this one doesn’t have a bio. I signal my waitress for another drink. Something tells me that this place is about to get crazy.

I get my drink when I notice a girl being escorted to the stage in full leather suit complete with a full face mask with a side of chains. I know these rich fucks can be some of the biggest freaks out there, but this doesn’t scream fetish to me. The man walking her up handcuffs her to the stripper pole which is followed by her announcement.

“Please give a warm Gemstones welcome to our newest girl, Kirstie. She is a huge fan of bondage and torture.”

The announcement goes quiet and is replaced by Michael Jackson’s ‘Beat It.’ I know they are promoting her as a BSDM fetish, but I think they could find a better song for this. Shit anything Nine Inch Nails would be perfect.

Oh well. I finish off my second Jack and Coke and make my way to the stage. I don’t have the cash to hang out up here for too long. The second Mr. Clean back there realizes that I handed him most of my cash, I’ll find myself out the rear door.

I take a seat around out of sight from the guys in the corner. If they are the ones in charge, I need to avoid their notice for as long as possible. At least until I can ask a few questions.

Kirstie is not like any other stripper I’ve met. Sure, the handcuffs on her wrists probably make it impossible to take her clothes off, but that’s not what I mean. She absolutely has no rhythm. Where the other girls sway their hips to the music, she is just standing there hugging the pole.

I lean to my left and take a look at the boss’s table. There is a guy in the back with a huge cigar in his mouth, getting visibly heated with a another man in a sweet looking bright blue suit. It is hard to tell from here, but I don’t think Kirstie is going to be up front much longer. It’s now or never. Time to roll the dice.

“You don’t seem like you like it here, Cindy.”

She turns and faces me with a look of disbelief. “You know who I am?”

I nod and peek back over towards the back. Cigar tilts his head slightly to the left before getting back into his discussion with Blue Suit. I don’t know what that meant, but something tells me that I am going to find out soon.

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

She smiles, but her look quickly changes to one of horror when I get lifted up out of my chair.

“The boss wants you to leave.” Mr. Clean says, pulling me towards the door.

“My money not good enough for this joint?” I pull my arm free and take a step back.

“What money?” I hear a laugh from behind me. This must be the black guy from earlier. The amazing thing about bouncers is that they are the guys you expect to be tough enough to go toe to toe with about anyone they come across. Yet, when you see them in action, they work together like a pack of wolves. Lucky for me that this pack is only two members strong, and they seem to be leading me to the front door.

Too bad I’ve been a bad boy. I need to get these guys to lead me out the back.

I dig my heels into the ground which brings on another shove by Cletus behind me. “Takes both of you to handle little ole me? I guess you guys aren’t as tough as you look.”

“Whatever, buddy. If you can’t handle your alcohol, you can just stay out.”

“You’re scared. I get it. When you grow some balls I’ll be back at the stage.” I sidestep past Mr. Clean and walk towards the stage. I get about three steps before Cletus puts me in a full nelson.

“I’ve never met someone who wanted his ass kicked so bad.” Mr. Clean walks in front of me. “I’ll give you one last chance. Walk to the front door and leave, or get carried out to the back.”

“I’ll take the back.”

Mr. Clean grabs my legs to go with Cletus having my arms. I’ve managed to cause quite a scene in Gemstones, it seems. All around the club the other patrons are standing around in amazement as I get carried out back. I look up to the stage and notice Cindy being escorted from the stage, looking back at me every few steps.

Don’t worry Cindy. I’ll be there in two shakes.

We exit out the back and the two bouncers throw me against the wall. The bash brothers then start kicking the living shit out of me. I curl up into the fetal position, trying to protect my face more than anything. In between blows I happen to notice my salvation leaning up against the side of the building. A college regulation sized aluminum baseball bat. I could almost smile if my back didn’t hurt so damn bad.

The beating last about thirty seconds before it comes to a stop.

“If we catch you here again, it is going to be worse.”

I hear the door open.

“Pussy.” I say, staggering to my feet. Not the most original word that I could come up with, that’s for sure. But, sometimes it is the simple things in life that throw people over the edge.

“Need another lesson?” The door shuts and the pair move in my direction.

“No, you do.” I pull the bat to my hands and take a swing at Cletus. It is a thing of beauty. I’m not a Phillies fan, but you could fall in love with the homerun stroke of Ryan Howard.

Unless you are Cletus and just took it to your chin.

Blood sprays from his mouth along with a pair of teeth. Something tells me he is going to want to invest in a batch of straws since I surely broke his jaw.

Mr. Clean takes a step back for a moment and looks me over. He has his hands up like he is prepared to fight, but he keeps looking around like he is about to run.

I can’t afford for him to come after me when I go back in the club, so I need to take him down now. I hold the bat in my right hand and make a Bruce Lee gesture with my left.

He takes a step back before charging at me like a rhino. If I get pinned under him and lose the bat, there is no way I can come out of this alive. I could pull out the knife, but I hate to kill someone for doing their job.

I do the logical thing and sidestep to my left and hit him across the leg with the bat. It doesn’t have the power of my swing against Cletus, but it was enough to bring him to the ground with a bone shattering crunch.

“You broke my leg, asshole.”

“It’s nothing personal. I just can’t have you two coming up from behind.” I walk up behind him and give him a firm tap to the back of his head. His head drops lifelessly to the ground.