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Mahmut listened attentively. "Look, I know you're on the Seleighe side of the fence, so to speak,
at least most of the time. You know some of the kid's friends. If any of them show up here, can
you pass that information on for me?"
Mahmut nodded gravely. "For a dog of an infidel, that one is a good boy," he replied. "For me, he
arranged a lager distributor from America. He has done several of my friends a service or two in
the past. For a chance to even the scales, I think that they would do much."
"What kind is his kind?" Joe whispered to Fox. FX shrugged and muttered something that sounded
like "gin," although that couldn't possibly be right. It was probably the earplugs. Joe made a
move to take them out; Fox grabbed his hand to prevent him
Just as someone entered the bar, stared at the singer below, and stopped dead in his tracks, as if
transfixed.
It was a young man; one with branching antlers rising from his head, but otherwise quite normal-
looking. As Joe paused with his hand on the plug in his ear, the newcomer shook his head
violently, turned a deathly white, and made a kind of odd moaning noise.
His eyes glazed over, and he stumbled down the stairs between the tiers of tables, ignoring
everything and everyone in his path. He staggered across the dance floor towards Lorelie, who
ignored his presence completely, and dropped down at her feet in a crouch, gazing up at her with
the adoration of a saint at the feet of the Almighty.
If Joe hadn't chanced to look in her direction, he might never have seen the piano player's
reaction. If Lorelie was indifferent to her worshipper, the pale girl was not.
She stared at the young man with such pure, naked hunger that the word "hunger" simply did not
describe the expression she wore. He might have been a thick, juicy steak, and she suffering
starvation. Then she licked her lips and smiled.
Her teeth were all pointed, like a shark's.
"Poor kid," the bartender said distantly. "She got another one." And somehow Joe knew what he
meant. Lorelie might have snared the man, but her accompanist was going to devour him somehow. Not
just figuratively, either.
Joe rounded on the bartender, suddenly suffused with anger. "So why aren't you doing anything
about it?" he hissed, one hand on the Colt. "Why do you let her sing here?"
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Mahmut's eyes narrowed dangerously, but his voice remained calm and even. "Look, kid, we have
placards in the lobby announcing that Lorelie's singing in here. The hat-check girl would have
offered him earplugs. The hostess would have offered him earplugs. How much more do you want us to
do? Shove the plugs in his ears? This is a neutral realm; Lorelie's free to sing, we're free to
hire her, and he's free to ignore the warnings. Who knows? Maybe he was suicidal. You may not like
it, son, but you're not in Kansas anymore, either."
This is a neutral realm. Maybe he was suicidal. They know he's going to die, and no one is going
to help him.
Joe felt cold all over. He looked at Mahmut's flat black eyes; looked back down at the bandstand,
at Lorelie, at her admirer, at the piano player. He shivered, and briefly considered the
ramifications of running down there and trying to save that poor guy
Then he caught Fox's eyes. The kitsune shook his head slowly. He remembered all of Fox's warnings,
shuddered, and turned away.
Mahmut spoke to him again. "Sometimes we get people doing that because there are a lot of ways to
drain a man. Those two know most of them. I have been told that many are pleasurable and leave the
man more alive than before. Some think the risk is worth it for the experience. The young buck
there isn't likely to die and he might enjoy it."
He still might have tried to think of some way of getting Lorelie's victim free, but he never got
the chance.
At that moment, one of the waitresses (a delicate creature like a winged lizard with veil-like
wings sprouting from her shoulder blades) came over and tapped Chinthliss on the arm. "Sir," she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]