Ceremony in Death (In Death #5)(33)

“I’ve already done that. I want to see Lobar. Where do I find him?”

“He doesn’t work this level.” With the subtlety and discretion that would have made the poshest maitre d’ proud, the hostess steered Eve back toward the stairs. “If you will go to the main level, you will be met, and a table provided. I’ll contact Lobar and send him to you.”

“Fine.” Eve studied her, saw an attractive woman in her mid-twenties. “Why do you do this?” she asked and glanced at one of the screens where a woman screamed and struggled as she was strapped to a raised slab of marble. “How can you do this?”

The hostess merely glanced down at Eve’s badge, then smiled sweetly. “How can you do that?” she countered and drifted away.

“I’m letting it get to me,” Eve admitted as they headed down to the main level. “I know better.”

The band continued to play, the music a frenzy now. But the performance aspect had switched to a huge view screen that filled the wall behind the stage. It took Eve only a glance to see why. The club wasn’t licensed for live sex acts, but such minor inconveniences were transcended by video.

The female vocalists were still bound, still singing their hearts out without missing a beat. But they were behind the stage now, on camera, along with the man from the audience and a second man who wore nothing but an ornate mask of a boar’s head.

“Pigs,” was all Eve had to say, then looked into gleaming red eyes.

“Your table is this way.” The young man smiled, revealing gleaming teeth with incisors sharpened to vicious fangs. He turned. His hair streamed down his naked back, black, tipped with red like flames. He opened the rounded door on a privacy tube, stepped in ahead of them.

“I’m Lobar.” He grinned again. “I’ve been expecting you.”

He might have been pretty without the affectation of vampire fangs and demon eyes. As it was, Eve thought he looked like an overgrown child dressed up for Halloween. If he was of legal age, she deduced it couldn’t have been by much. His chest was thin and hairless, his arms slim as a girl’s. But she didn’t think it was the red tint of his eyes that took away his innocence. It was the look in them.

“Sit down, Lobar.”

“Sure.” He dropped into a chair. “I’ll have a drink. You’re buying,” he told Eve. “You want my time during work hours, you gotta pay.” He punched out a selection on the electronic menu, adjusted his chair so that he could see the view screen. “Great show tonight.”

Eve glanced over.

“The script could use work,” she said dryly. “You got ID, Lobar?”

He peeled his lips back from his fangs, lifted his hands, palm out. “Not on me. Unless you think I got secret pockets in my skin.”

“What’s your legal name?”

His smile disappeared, and his eyes were suddenly the sulky eyes of a child. “It’s Lobar. That’s who I am. I don’t have to answer your questions, you know. I’m cooperating.”

“You’re a real sterling citizen.” Eve waited while his drink slid out of the serving slot. Another show, she mused, as the heavy glass chalice smoked with some murky gray brew. “Alice Lingstrom. What do you know about her?”

“Not much, except she was a dumb bitch.” He sipped the drink. “She hung around for awhile, then went crying off. It was fine with me. The master doesn’t need any weaklings.”

“The master.”

He sipped again, smiled. “Satan,” he said, relishing it.

“You believe in Satan?”

“Sure.” He leaned forward, slid his hand with its long, black-painted nails toward Eve. “And he believes in you.”

“Careful,” Roarke murmured. “You’re too young and stupid to loose a hand.”

Lobar snorted, but he slid his hand back again. “Your watchdog?” he said to Eve. “Your rich watchdog. We know who you are,” he added, fixing his red eyes on Roarke. “Big f**king deal. You don’t have any power here. And neither does your cop bitch.”

“I’m not his cop bitch,” Eve said mildly, shooting a warning glance at Roarke. “I’m my own cop bitch. And as to power…” She leaned back. “Well, I’ve got the power to take you down to Cop Central and slap you into Interview.” She smiled, letting her gaze run over the naked chest and gleaming nipple rings. “The guys would just love to get a load of you. Cute, isn’t he, Roarke?”

“In an apprentice demon sort of fashion. You must have a very… interesting dentist.” As it was a privacy booth, he took out a cigarette, lighted it.

“I could use one of those,” Lobar said.

“Could you?” With a shrug, Roarke slid another cigarette onto the table. When Lobar picked it up, looked at him expectantly, Roarke grinned. “Sorry, you want a light? I assumed you’d shoot flame out of your fingertips.”

“I don’t do tricks for straights.” Lobar leaned forward, sucking on the filter as Roarke flicked his lighter at the tip. “Look, you want to know about Alice, and I can’t help you. She wasn’t my type. Too inhibited, and always asking questions. Sure I banged her a couple of times, but those were like community f**ks, you know? Nothing personal.”