TWENTY-THREE

In the Limelight

Only when they were inside did Oliver notice that the nightclub was housed in a space that looked like an old cathedral; a deconsecrated church that had been turned into a haven of sin. The music was deafening and the club smelled like smoke and body odor. They could barely move, the crowds were pressed so tightly. It was pure misery. Oliver was afraid to look down to see what he was wearing, but he needn’t have worried: he was dressed as he had been that morning, in a safari vest and jeans. His regular clothes. maybe in Tartarus they didn’t care about illusions, or perhaps the underworld’s stylist was off today? He wanted to ask Mimi, but she was intent on pressing forward. She swiveled her head every which way, looking for Kingsley. She seemed to know her way around the club, and led them up a staircase, where the VIP

rooms were.

The private back rooms were built like Russian matry-oshka dolls, in that each new space led to another. Oliver had the feeling that one could spend eternity wandering through a succession of ever-smaller, ever-darker, ever-hotter rooms, while the droning sound of a monotone techno beat— bumf, bumf, bumf—resounded in the brain until one went as insane as the demons that surrounded the place. Each back room was guarded by a door bitch and a bouncer, but Mimi glided through like she owned the place.

She finally stopped, and Oliver almost bumped into her back. She had come to the end of the VIP rooms. There were no more doors at the other end. This was it.

She took a seat at a table and motioned for Oliver to do the same. They settled into the thick red velvet banquette. No sooner had they sat down than the manager, a bulldog in an ugly shiny suit, came up to the two of them. “Fallen,” he said, pointing at Mimi. “You’re not one of us. Get out!” he growled.

“No service for your type here.”

Mimi sat up, affronted, and began to argue. “Helda gave me permission to—”

“Helda’s up there,” the demon answered, pointing with his thumb. “I don’t care what Helda said. No Fallen in my club. Unless your blood is silver, no dice, baby. makes everyone uncomfortable.” He gestured to two ugly trolls who were stationed at the doors—who’d just let them in, in fact—and they pulled Mimi and Oliver from their seats.

“Let me go!” Mimi demanded. “You can’t do this! Do you know who I am?”

“What about him?” one of the trolls asked their boss, nodding at Oliver.

“What about him?” the demon snarled.

“He’s alive,” the troll said hungrily. “Can we have him?”

“Yeah, I don’t care.”

The trolls grunted their approval and began to drool.

Mimi struggled, but the trolls were too strong. They began to march them out of the VIP room when a low, smooth voice cut through the drone.

“Let them go, Beelzebub.” The voice was familiar, and Mimi froze. She couldn’t breathe for a moment—scarcely believing that after all the hardship in her journey, she would be rewarded at last. She slowly turned around to see a handsome man standing to the side, his face hidden in shadow.

Nothing happened. The demon growled.

“I said, let them go. Or am I not making myself clear?”

“Down, boys,” the demon said, and the trolls released their hold.

Oliver squinted at the dark figure who’d saved them. He was pretty sure he knew who was talking, but for a moment he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or to remain frightened.

He decided anything was better than having those trolls saliv-ating over him.

“But boss, they’re stinking up the place,” the demon whined, looking cowed and frightened.

“You’re only smelling yourself,” the handsome fellow said, with an amused grin at his delectable insult. “Go on, now, and find other guests to harass; but leave my friends alone.”

He stepped into the light and held out his hand. “Force,”

Kingsley martin said, looking just as smooth and debonair as ever. There was something new and different about him, but it wasn’t his looks: he was still the same sexy beast with the same saucy forelock, the same sparkling dark eyes. Kingsley always looked ready for fun, but now he also looked relaxed and at ease, perfectly comfortable in his new surroundings. He looked neither miserable nor tortured, and Mimi had to stop herself from running to his arms, as something she saw in his face made her hold her emotions in check.

Kingsley did not look surprised to see her. Or shocked, or excited, or any of the emotions she had thought he would show when they were finally reunited. He looked as if something of minor interest had wandered in. “How nice to see you here. You need a drink?”

Mimi wondered what kind of game he was playing. Did he not want to show her how he felt about her in front of the trolls and demons who surrounded them? This from the boy with the quick fingers and insatiable lust? She remembered how fast he could get her undressed when he wanted her—and he’d wanted her very much and very often back then. This from the boy who’d sacrificed himself so she could live? Well, she could match his light tone. She was Mimi Force, after all, and if Kingsley was going to play that game, if he wanted a chase, then she would give him one.

“Sure. What are you pouring?” she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder and settling back into their corner table.

Kingsley snapped his fingers and a beautiful virago appeared. The Amazon was almost six feet tall and dressed in a tiny silver dress that showed off her bountiful assets. “Siren, make sure my friends get everything and anything they wish,”

he drawled.

“Sure thing, boss.” The cocktail waitress placed two leather-bound drink menus on the table. “What’ll you have?

Everything’s on the house.”

Mimi opened the book to choose a libation, and when she looked up, Kingsley had disappeared. She turned to Oliver questioningly, but he only shrugged.

“You’re friends of Araquiel’s? You’re so lucky,” their waitress whispered.

“Why? Does he own the club?” Oliver asked.

“Better. He’s the consigliere,” the waitress said.

“He’s a mobster?” Oliver looked confused.

“Sort of. He’s Helda’s right-hand man. How about that,”

Mimi said, leaning back in the booth and taking a moment to assess the situation. No wonder the underworld had put up such a tough fight during their journey. Helda would not want to lose her closest adviser just because Mimi wanted her boy-friend back.

“Huh. Well, it’s good to have friends in high places, right?” Oliver asked, with a nervous smile.

Mimi did not answer. She had found Kingsley, but it appeared that Helda had been telling the truth. Kingsley was far from lost, and had no ambition to be found.