But then he stepped aside anyway, letting Michael into another hallway with graffiti-scarred walls. As Michael moved toward the far end, he listened carefully for Jenna.
Her song was still weak, but he had no doubt that she was here somewhere.
Beelzebub crouched next to the girl. “How are you feeling, my angel?”
Jenna wobbled slightly, tried to focus on him. “Kinda weird… Who’re you?”
“My name is Jonathan. I’m a friend of Zack’s. He said you weren’t feeling well and asked if he could bring you up here for a while.”
She looked around the room. Blinked. “… I don’t like it here. Where’s Zack?”
“Dancing. Do you like to dance?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so…”
“Well, I’ll tell you what. As soon as I get the phone call I’m waiting for, I’ll have Zack take you downstairs so you can have some fun. Okay?”
“…I still feel weird…”
“Don’t worry. That’ll wear off in a few minutes and you’ll be fine. Would you like to lay down?”
“Yeah … ,” she murmured. “I think I better.”
She carefully pulled her legs onto the bed and lay on her side, closing her eyes. Beelzebub studied her, admiring her delicate features, the pale white throat. Too bad Belial wasn’t here. She’d so enjoy this.
He reached over and smoothed her hair. “Zack tells me you’ve had some bad things happen to you, Jenna. Is that true?”
She stirred. “…What kinda things?”
“He says you ran away from home because of your stepfather.”
She hesitated. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Does it give you pain, Jenna? Thinking about what he did to you?”
“Yes … Stop.”
“What if I could make all that pain go away, my angel? Would you like me to help you take away the pain?”
She opened her eyes. There was a trace of tears in them. “…Who are you? Why are you asking me this stuff?”
“Because I want to help you, Jenna. There may come a time when you’ll have to make a choice. And I want to help you make the right one. Will you let me do that?”
The phone rang before she could answer.
He reluctantly got to his feet, went to his desk, and hit the intercom. “Yes?”
“Guy just came in. Could be him.”
“What did he look like?”
“Solid. Gray hair. Beard. Maybe sixty or so. But not somebody you’d wanna go one-on-one with.”
The same description the insect had given him. Assuming the idiot knew what he was talking about.
“All right,” Beelzebub said. “Call me back when it’s done.”
He clicked off, glanced at the girl, then went to the door to get Zack.
Michael pushed through a set of swinging doors into a room the size of a warehouse. The place was packed shoulder to shoulder with gyrating bodies, the music loud enough to break the sound barrier.
Strobe lights flashed red and yellow and white, in perfect time to the beat, and Michael didn’t think he’d ever seen so many people jammed into one place. He saw dark leather and jeans and short skirts and fishnet stockings and half-naked women throwing their heads back in laughter as men-and other women-pressed up against them, bodies grinding, hands roaming.
He started circling the crowd, peering into it as he concentrated on Jenna’s song. But it was too dark, and there were too many people out there. And if Jenna had been brought here by force, he doubted she’d be tearing up the dance floor.
So where would she be? A holding room of some kind? An office?
Michael scanned the periphery of the club, looking for stairs or an elevator. He looked back the way he came and saw a cluster of sofas and chairs, where exhausted dancers rested their feet and drank exotic beers. To the right of that were the swinging doors he’d just come in through.
And farther to the right was an elevator.
Michael moved. Headed straight for his target. A couple of dancers got in his way, but he didn’t slow down, shoving them aside. He was still several yards away when a light above it flashed and the doors slid open.
And there inside were Zack and Jenna.
Zack had her by the hand, and when he pulled her out of the elevator, she stumbled slightly. Drugged. They looked for a moment as if they were about to step onto the dance floor, then Zack made an abrupt left turn and pushed through the swinging doors, dragging Jenna behind him.
They were headed outside. Fast.
Michael ran, barreling through the doors into the hallway. No sign of them. He picked up speed, slammed through the next door, and still didn’t see them. He flew down that hallway and up the graffiti-covered stairwell, then burst through to the room with the sewing machines-
– and stopped.
Froze in his tracks.
Zack and Jenna stood in the middle of room, facing him, Zack wearing a wide, shit-eating grin on his face.
“What’s your hurry, Mikey? You don’t like to dance?”
There were four more drudges with him. Two on each flank. Three men, one woman. And one of them was the Winnebago. They spread out to block Michael’s path.
“Yeah,” the woman said. “Come dance with us.”
She was covered with tattoos and piercings and looked as if she were completely willing to rip out your throat and feed it back to you without even the slightest hint of remorse. There was a swastika on the side of her neck, and her hair was black and spiky.
The other three didn’t have as many tattoos or as much metal sticking out of their faces, but they had enough muscles between them to start a gladiator show.
He’d been set up. The stamp on that dead girl’s hand had been deliberately put there to see how he’d react. And his presence here had proven to Beelzebub that Jenna was someone special. The someone they’d all been looking for.
Michael took his Roman from his waistband, kept his focus on Zack. “Step away from the girl.”
“Sorry, asshole. Can’t do it.”
“I really think you should reconsider. Ashes to ashes and all that.”
The tattooed chick edged sideways, moving to the pile of pipes to her left. “I sure hope you got a spare skin back home, ’cuz we’re gonna have some fun with this one.”
She snatched up some pipes and tossed them to the others. They hefted them in their hands and spread out, waiting for Michael to engage. Zack spun Jenna around and pushed her toward the sewing machines. “Sit down and watch, bitch.”
Jenna stumbled and grabbed hold of one of the machines.
“You really don’t want to do this,” Michael said, stepping toward them now. “Just let me take the girl and we’ll save the dustup for another day. I couldn’t care less about a worthless bunch of drudges.”
“Worthless?” Zack said. “You trying to hurt our feelings?”
“That would require you have a heart and a mind and a soul. And you’re oh-for-three at-”
The Winnebago roared and came at Michael, swinging the pipe hard, aiming for his head. Michael ducked with plenty of room, but the Winnebago swung again, going for another head shot. The pipe
A split second later, the guy vaporized, dust scattering violently in the air, blowing directly into the faces of Zack and the others, as the pipe he’d held clattered on the floor.
