Orfeo’s rage flickered nervously as he came to a halt in front of this man. He recognized him vaguely as one of Earl’s loa, his most trusted men: this was the one they called Horse. Yet if the sheer bulk of this monster gave him pause, within seconds his anger flamed even more brightly inside him. If this man would not move, then he would go round him. If he could not go round, then he would go through. He took a step forward.
At last Horse moved, letting one huge plate of a hand fall onto Orfeo’s chest. The young man had pushed himself forward with full determination, yet this giant seemed to hold him still as though he were a doll.
“I’m going in,” he snarled, his teeth showing.
Horse shook his head, saying nothing.
“I tell you, I’m going in there.”
“Hey, you crazy fucker!” someone shouted from behind him. “Get back in the queue!” There were other catcalls and jeers, but Orfeo ignored them all. Horse did not move but simply stared down without speaking.
“Don’t just stand there, you dumb bastard!” Orfeo growled. “Get out of my way.”
At this, Horse began to shake in a bizarre fashion that momentarily disconcerted Orfeo. For a few seconds he stood in confusion then realized that the gigantic man was laughing. Looking up, he was further shocked to see that when Horse opened his mouth there was an empty black space where his tongue should have been. His laughter was almost noiseless, a hoarse, hissing sound of breath escaping his lungs.
Infuriated, Orfeo grabbed Horse’s forearm with both of his hands and tried to pull it from his chest, but instead the other man gave an easy shove which sent Orfeo sprawling onto the sidewalk as the other people gathered there moved out of the way. Stunned slightly by the fall, Orfeo looked up at Horse, who seemed even taller from this low position and, for a moment, his courage failed him.
Yet he had no intention of giving up. The woman he loved was behind that door and he had to see her at all costs. The guests seeking entrance to Hades, realising that a bloodier spectacle was beginning to emerge, formed two lines on either side of the giant. Picking himself up, Orfeo gave a yell and charged at Horse.
He managed to land a blow, throwing it with all his weight into the solid chest of the other man, as high as he could reach and still hit with any force. Not that it mattered. Horse did indeed take a step back, grunting with surprise at the ferocity with which he had been hit, but as Orfeo followed with another and then another attack, so he raised that massive fist of his and struck the smaller man in the side of the head as though he was a rag-filled sack.
Astonished by the strength of that blow, Orfeo staggered sideways. The whole world was flashing and reeling and he could make out a cacophony of jeers and shouts as he span around. He was groggy and his head felt as though it would split open, but Orfeo also realized that Horse was simply standing by the door, shaking with almost silent laughter. His defenses were down.
Barely conscious of what he was doing, Orfeo aimed low and nasty, punching hard into the taller man’s crotch. That, at least, put an end to the giant’s sneering laughter as he creased up, his face crumpled in pain. Without waiting a moment, and drawing on all the cunning that he had learned on the streets of Port-au-Prince, Orfeo brought his other fist up in a mighty, bone-crunching uppercut that should have knocked the other man flat on his back.
With any other man it might have worked, but for Horse it merely sent him staggering backwards a few paces. His face was still twisted in pain but now there was fire and anger in his eyes replacing the usual stony impassiveness. For the first time in many years someone had roused Horse’s wrath—and now, for the first time that night, Orfeo was truly afraid.
The singer circled cautiously, his head still hurting from the previous punch. He had no idea what would happen now but desperation drove him on. He needed to enter the club and Horse stood in his way. As the massive bulk heaved toward him, he swallowed his fear and, with a desperate yell, launched himself fully forward.
Horse sidestepped his charge with surprising delicacy and, as Orfeo swung past, he lowered his arm like a vise and trapped the smaller man in his grip. Kicking out with bare feet and lashing with his fists, Orfeo struggled to free himself but, with his other hand, Horse punched him hard in the back, striking for the kidneys and making his victim groan with pain.
After a few such well aimed blows, he opened his hand and let Orfeo drop to the floor. Horse’s face was implacable once more: for him, rage was a weakness and he had dared to let this pup see such weakness. For that the stupid man would pay.
Orfeo felt strong hands grapple with his back, fumbling toward his jeans and then heaving him up as though he were a bag of bones. The world spun around him and he felt himself flying through the air, spinning around as he did so and catching sight of legs, bodies and, finally, Horse himself, arms outstretched. Then his bones seemed to crunch as he landed awkwardly on his back.
The wind had been expelled from his lungs and for a moment he struggled to breathe, fumbling with his arms to push himself up as the giant followed him across the road. He had almost made it to his feet when he saw the foot and its large, black boot coming toward his head. Trying to raise his arm to defend himself, he was too late and he felt a tooth shatter as the boot connected with him.
He couldn’t scream as he fell to the floor, but instead lay curled up with his arms across his head. The other kicks were to his chest and legs and excruciating pain shot through his body. It was a mercy when the kicking stopped and Horse finally moved away from him.
Vaguely aware of shadows moving in front of the purple and red glow of hell, Orfeo struggled to stay conscious. He had to get in there. He had to get in. The words circled around his skull like a mantra. He could no longer remember why he had to do it, but he had to enter Hades.
A car pulled up somewhere out of his rapidly diminishing sight and he wondered what would happen now. There was a man named Earl, he seemed to remember. Was he coming to kill Orfeo? That bit was unclear.
The voice that spoke was familiar for some reason. “You damn fool!” the voice hissed as other hands began to lift Orfeo up gently. “You’re going to get the both of us killed!”
Chapter Ten
Despite himself, Earl was nervous as he brought Ardyce into Hades. He had other properties about the city, as well as further out in the country surrounding New Orleans, but whenever he felt anxious in any way it was to Hades her returned, seeking the security it offered.
That in itself was ironic, he thought to himself grimly. Five years previously this very building had been razed to the ground, a freak accident. Merely considering it made his left hand itch underneath his glove, yet since then he had invested millions in ensuring that nothing could ever touch his lair again. It was the center of his operations, the hub of his empire.
He couldn’t quite shake the sense, however, that bringing her into this place constituted a bad omen in some way. He snarled and Papa looked across at him sharply as Horse carried Ardyce behind the pair of them, Snake bringing up the rear. That bastard, Earl thought, always looking for a sign of weakness: well, he would have to be strong. It was a shame he couldn’t do without Papa but for the moment things would have to proceed as usual.
“Is there anything wrong?” Papa asked. After that brief glint as he turned to his boss, his eyes once more dead orbs, revealing nothing. Bastard! Earl almost cursed under his breath, but he mastered his temper.
“Nothing—should there be?” When Papa shook his head slowly, his hat dipping slightly so that Earl couldn’t make out his gaze any more, Earl turned to Horse.
“Take her to my rooms, then go and keep a lookout for that cocksucker. He’s not to come in here under any circumstances—you understand?”
Horse nodded and then turned toward a staircase that led up high above the main auditorium of the club. Watching the hulking man carefully climb the steps, Earl’s attention focused on Ardyce, still unconscious in his arms. She looked so small and frail, her skin almost w
hite against the native’s darker flesh, lacking even the rosy hue she normally possessed. Shit! If she carried on like this, she’d be almost as bleached as Earl himself.
“You think that fucker would be so stupid as to come here?” It was Snake who asked the question. Earl wanted to punch her—or, more accurately, he wanted to hit something. In some ways it was a shame the singer wasn’t here. In the meantime, there was no point taking it out on Snake: the question was a reasonable one.
“Who knows. In any case, Horse’ll arrange a suitable welcoming party if he does try and get in.”
“We should just kill the fucker. Let me show him how I play, boss.”
Another reasonable suggestion, thought Earl, but for some reason a sickness in his stomach warned him against it. That made him even angrier and he was only able to swallow back down his temper with an effort. Although Papa didn’t look at him this time, he could feel the shoulders of the bastard tensing beside him.
“Leave it,” he said at last. “Come on, let’s see how business is doing.”
He led the way toward a corridor that led into the bowels of Hades. The building was a warren behind the walls that visitors to the club got to see, with private rooms where the real business of the underworld was conducted, whether it was making deals or administering Earl’s vengeance. No-one got into this part of the building without his say-so, and that was just how he liked it.
Above them was an apartment laid out so that he could check on the comings and goings of the club or retreat into isolation as required. That would be where Horse was taking Ardyce now—and then Horse would need to check out security at the front of house. That would leave Ardyce alone. He cursed again. Why couldn’t he think straight tonight?
“You,” he barked at Papa. “Go up and stay with her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Papa shrugged and, for a second, Earl thought he saw the faintest glimmer of a smile on the black man’s lips. I should just fucking shoot you now, Earl’s mind raged. But he said nothing, merely gesturing with his head for Snake to follow him.
“Why not go up there yourself, boss?” Snake asked, frowning as she walked alongside him, her muscular arms flowing easily at her side. Unlike Papa, she was a simple creature to deal with: as long as she could kill someone from time to time, she was happy. She didn’t even seem to care about the money much, but that was her lookout. She could be fucking stupid at times.
“When I want you to speak, I’ll fucking let you know, okay?” Earl didn’t even look at her. “Like I said, we need to check out business first of all.”
As he opened a door that led into a VIP area of the club a small group of people looked up at him. The guy he vaguely recognized, a singer or something visiting the area, while the women were all provided by Earl as extra special company. They were all beautiful, of course, and Earl had fucked every one of them himself, but these whores were nothing compared to Ardyce.
The women barely batted an eyelid though the singer looked surprised. Earl remembered now: some hip-hop or rap artist from further up the east coast, had come on vacation down here and Hades had been recommended to him. Earl had heard some of this fool’s music—a racket, all noise and no substance. The shit young kid’s listened to today. He frowned slightly at the memory of another voice. Damn! Despite himself that beggar singer had got into his head somehow. That must have been how he’d seduced Ardyce—there was no way he could have got to her by any other means.
His frown made his guest nervous and, seeing this, Earl had to stifle a laugh. This punk thought he was so tough, so cool, but Earl had a reputation built up brick by bloody brick in reality. How he would have liked to gone toe to toe with this pumped up piece of shit, show him what the world was truly like. Nonetheless, Earl was doing a favor for friends in New Jersey and it wouldn’t do to beat their protégé into a pulp. Instead, he transformed his laugh into a gleaming white smile and spread his arms wide.
“I just thought I’d check on how things were going with you,” he said. “Sorry to make you jump like that. All just part of our special service. And how do you like Hades?”
The rap artist nodded his head, gold jewelry glinting as he did so. His nervousness at seeing Earl transformed into a smile, one that was more open and honest than his host’s: evidently he had been considering the wisdom of leaving his entourage in the room next door for a moment but now was willing to trust the club owner. Ah, the folly of the young, as Papa would no doubt have said.
“It’s cool, man. Nice to get some time on ma own, if ya know what I mean.” Realising the proprieties, and seeing Earl still standing there with his arms open in a gesture of friendship, the singer stood and embraced him.
“Good, good, I’m glad to see it.” Earl’s eye was glittering as he looked down at the three women still lounging casually on the sofas laid out in the room. One of them was particularly stunning, with big tits and a waist that narrowed ridiculously before flowing into wide, sensual hips. Her skin was like chocolate honey and he remembered fucking her just a few nights before. What was her name? Danielle? Was that it? He couldn’t remember her real name, not that it mattered. He was slightly more perturbed by the fact that normally, whenever he saw her, she gave him a boner that could raise a man from the dead but tonight there was nothing. His smile, when he looked at her, was feral and she glanced up at him nervously.
“You girls make sure to show... to show...” What the fuck was this guy’s name? “our friend here a good time. I’m sorry for busting in on you like that and all,” he continued, one arm around the muscle-bound singer’s shoulders. “As I said, I just wanted to check everything was okay. Now you go ahead and enjoy yourself: these ladies have some very surprising things that could make a sinner of any man. Snake and I’ll make sure no-one else disturbs you.”
Glad to leave behind the mini-Sodom he had prepared, Earl led Snake through to the next room. Here the artist’s entourage was waiting and the three, hulking men looked in shock as Earl entered the room. One of them unconsciously fumbled at his side for a gun, and Earl couldn’t resist a gleeful smile at this useless gesture: the only guns allowed in Hades belonged to Earl’s men, and even then they were rarely required. There were plenty of other ways to dispatch unwanted company.
“Fellas, fellas,” he said graciously. “I was just checking in on our friend, making sure he’s having a good time.” He winked in a pantomime manner and the attitude of the three guards relaxed slightly. “Now, you just make sure to order all the drinks you need. I can send some girls up for you as well if you’d like. Or boys, if the fancy takes you that way.”
“You calling us faggots?” one of them snarled, a meathead who wasn’t worth Snake’s little finger.
I’m calling you a walking-dead assfucked queer nigger faggot, you piece of shit, Earl thought, his smile not faltering for a second. Instead he accentuated the good ol’ southern boy drawl he used when he wished to gloss over his falsehoods. “Not at all. Just tryin’ to make sure you all enjoy yourselves. Now, me and my friend here have to do the rounds. No rest for the wicked, as they say.”
His breath came shuddering out of him as they left the room and stepped into the main arena. Noises pulsated loudly around him, a throb that fed through his stomach and chest. Earl had little time for this shit they called music himself, but it drew the crowd and sometimes it had a strangely calming effect on him. If he couldn’t hear himself think, then he didn’t tend to think so much.
With a flick of his head, he summoned Snake to fall into step behind him and crossed a balcony that looked down over the huge dance floor at the center of Hades. Hundreds of people danced and writhed and squirmed in the pleasurable torments of the damned below, and it looked as though the club was close to its capacity. That was what people did here in New Orleans: they came to Hades, they took whatever drugs they needed, and they danced and perhaps fucked their troubles away, all their desires presided over by Earl himself.
His nerves eased slightl
y at the sight of this. It was precisely what he needed. Earl was a man of action not reflection, and the action of Hades would frequently serve as a substitute. Nodding to himself, he stalked to the bar and ordered a whiskey from the bartender who served him immediately—as well he should have. Terrible things tended to happen when there was any delay.
Snake leaned against the bar alongside him, pulling on a bottle which she grappled the bartender for when he attempted to pour her a shot. “Hey, boss!” she shouted, making herself heard above the din. “It’s all good. Take it easy.”
Earl flashed her a glance, feeling surprisingly irritated for a moment. Nonetheless, he had to admit it was good. Business was booming—there was always room in hell for plenty more souls. More importantly, however, his real prize was at hand and waiting for him upstairs. How long had he dreamed of this moment? How long had he waited for her? Now he had the means to compel her to his will.
And yet this thought disturbed him. Why the fuck did she have to go and choose that beggar? What the fuck was she thinking? What did that nigger have that he didn’t? The sickness in his stomach returned. Hades was his, and she was his now as well. He knocked back the rest of his drink and snarled at Snake: “Let’s go. We got business.”
His anxiety slowly gave way to grim determination as he left the main area and took another corridor, another flight of stairs in the maze behind the walls. He knew what needed to be done, and he was the man to do it.
Finally, he and Snake came to the door that led to his own apartment within the club. He gave the signal, a rapid series of knocks, then pushed it open. The room he entered contained a number of seats and expensive equipment, including a bank of CCTV screens, but the first thing anyone would notice was the large window that dominated one end, looking out over the dance floor below. It was soundproofed, blocking out the noise of the club, but even so a dull, regular beat was just perceptible. Earl did not mind this at all: Hades was more than a building to him. It was a creature, alive and full of energy, and that faint sound was its heart.
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