'I said, you're shut off. You hear? No more!'
'What's it take to get a stinkin' drink in this joint?' The demon's voice boomed deeply. He added a few choice profanities.
He ? or, if you prefer, it ? was about six feet six inches tall, massive frame swathed in a black gabardine suit with wide lapels. Black shirt, white silk four-in-hand. The face was strangely distorted; lantern-jawed, bony- browed, it was not quite normal, and the skin was tinted faintly green. For all that, there was something forcefully masculine, not to say compelling, about its looks. The ears were pointed, the only straightforwardly anomalous feature.
'For you, deng-breath, it's impossible. Now, move on out of here!'
'So that's how you treat your customers? How do ya like that, babe?'
The 'babe' was a small brunette with heavily lined dark eyes and full red lips. Despite all the makeup, she was attractive. She had on a black cocktail dress and was smoking a cork-tipped cigarette. After blowing smoke at Tony she said, 'I've gotten thrown out of better places.'
'Who's throwing you out, honey?' Tony said. 'You can stay. He goes.'
'You're gonna haveta prove it, human.'
'Prove it? Whaddya talkin' about, prove it? Get the dung out of your pointy ears, deng. I said you're shut off. No more hooch! You can sit there all night for all I care.'
The deng swore again, this time obscenely and at great length and elaboration.
'Watch that filthy hole you call a mouth, mister,' Tony warned. 'There are ladies around.'
The babe laughed.
'You and what bunch of human pantywaists are gonna stop me?'
Tony took a bottle of bourbon by the neck and raised it threateningly.
'Tony.'
Reluctantly, Montanaro put the bottle down and sidestepped away.
The incubus turned to the speaker.
'So! It's the boss, at last. I was wonderin' when you was gonna show up. You're a little late. We got half the city already, and we're gonna take the other half.'
Carney took his station at the bar, about ten feet from the demon. He set the seltzer bottle on the bar.
The babe was between them. She turned to Carney, her dress hiked halfway up her thighs. A sly smile spread over her lips.
'Not if I get to your boss first,' Carney said. 'By the way, who's the young lady?'
'Velma,' she said as she crossed her legs.
The deng laughed. 'Actually, he's expectin' you. He wants to see you. I'll take you to him, if you wanna. I'm nice that way.'
'Hi, Velma. Just to talk, I expect.'
'Yeah, a nice little chat. Cozy like. Couple of drinks. You two fellas ought to be able to talk this out.'
'Sounds lovely. I accept. But I'll get there on my own hook, thanks.'
'Hey, anything I can do to help.'
'You can help by leaving.'
The deng was deeply offended. 'I offer to do you a favor, and this is the kinda hospitality I get. That stinks.' The demon lifted his glass and dumped ice into its mouth, where large white teeth crunched it up. 'You stink.'
'You're entitled to an opinion.'
'Yeah, and if I say all humans are cesspool runoff, I'm entitled to that opinion, too.'
'By all means. But how about taking your opinions and your business somewhere else?'
The deng chuckled. 'Everybody keeps sayin' that, but I don't see no action.' Onyx eyes took in the room. 'I like it here. Real nice place. Great. I think I'm gonna stay.' He reached into his jacket and brought out a hip flask. 'And I brought my own.'
'Leave now,' Carney said, changing his intonation, 'or you'll get hurt.'
The demon guffawed. 'You? Gonna hurt me? This I'd like to see.'
'Then get the dame out of the way. Or are you going to hide behind her?'
'Huh?' The demon reached out. 'Okay, babe, move it.'
With one easy motion he yanked her off the bar stool. She wound up sprawled on the floor with her skirt up over her buttocks, which were not inordinately hidden by brief black silk panties. She got to her knees and crawled off a distance, then sat up and turned around. She appeared neither offended nor hurt.
The deng lifted the hip flask to its lips and drank. Lowering the flask, it smiled toothily. 'Take your best shot, fart-face.'
Flame shot toward the demon, originating from somewhere in Carney's vicinity. A ball of fire enveloped the deng's huge form.
It stood there burning, black smoke rising to the ceiling and pancaking out. The whole nightclub was silent except for the crackling. Burning scraps of fabric fell from the demon's body, and black ash like dirty snowflakes floated away.
The flames died. Most of its clothes burned clean off, the demon calmly took another swig from the flask.
Velma's eyes had gone wide at the sight of the demon's strange genitalia.
Tony Montanaro was on the other side of the bar with a.45 automatic in each fist. He leaned over the counter to look.
'Hey, boss. Kinda handy to have a spare, ain't it?'
'I don't think that's the exact function.'
The demon threw the flask across the room, slid a forearm across its mouth. Naked and defiant, it laughed. 'What gave you the idea that fire was gonna give me any trouble?'
'Didn't think it would,' Carney said.
'Now it's my turn,' the incubus said, advancing.
Tony opened up with the.45's. Slugs bounced off the muscular green-tinged carapace.
Carney said, 'But I did sort of figure you wouldn't like this.'
He picked up the seltzer bottle and gave the deng a spritz.
The water doused its chest and belly. With a suspiring hiss, steam rose instantly.
The demon stopped and howled, its darkened face contorted with surprise and pain.
'What is that?' it roared.
'Holy seltzer.' Another stream of carbonated water arched out and splashed.
The deng screamed and backed off. Carney advanced, continuing to hose his adversary down.
'No! No!'
'Then get out.'
'All right!'
The deng backstepped, then turned and hurried out of the barroom.
The Pelican Club gradually came back to life. The Goldfarb medley resumed, and low conversation filled the air. Glasses chinked. A woman laughed nervously.
'Nice work, boss,' Tony said, sweeping brass casings from the bar top.
'Thanks.' Carney went to Velma and helped her up. Her eyes looked a little glazed. He eased her onto a bar stool.
'What were you drinking?'
She looked at him and her vision seemed to focus. 'Sloe gin fizz.'
'A pink lady for the lady,' Carney called to the bartender.
'Thanks.'
'Was that a friend of yours?'
'Sort of.'
'He treated you pretty rough.'
'He's a guy. All guys are bastards. Either that or they're simps.'
'Bastards or simps. Quite a dualism.' He lit her cigarette.
'Thanks.'
