Dead Mans Hand

"Hello, Joe," she said. "I'm Lori. Want to party?" Bre

"A friend, I mean," Bre

"Oh." Lori nodded. She linked arms with Bre

"Sure."

Bre

"What's up?" one of them asked as Bre

"Just one of you? Who gets off?"

Bre

The Werewolf grunted, stood aside, and Bre

Inside was a large room decorated with the exuberantly lavish taste one might expect in an establishment like Chickadee's. Half the walls were wallpapered in a silver-and-gold paisley pattern, the other half were mirrored, making the room seem much bigger than it really was. The overstuffed couches and fat hassocks scattered about the room were all occupied by house girls and men wearing suits that were as tasteful as the wallpaper.

A naked girl was lying languorously on one of the couches with lines of what looked like cocaine laid out on her body between and over her ample breasts, up her sleek legs, and converging at the juncture of her thighs. Three men were taking turns snorting lines leading to their favorite body parts. Other girls wearing mostly makeup were circulating with trays with drinks and little silver bowls filled with powders or pills of various sorts.

Lori said, "See you later, hon," and moved off into the drift.

Lazy Dragon was sitting in a corner of the room, sipping a drink from a long-stemmed glass. As Bre

"What do you want?" Dragon asked as Bre

"No rest for the wicked, is there?"

Dragon stiffened at the sound of Bre

Bre

Dragon looked at him for a long time before answering. "The guy over there," he said, indicating a tall, thin, wastedlooking man in white linen trousers, jacket, and shirt, "is Qui

Bre

"Trying out a new product?" Bre

As Bre

"What the hell was that?" Bre

Dragon shrugged. "The new product. Demonstrating for the distributors. What do you want, anyway?"

Bre

"Chrysalis?"

Bre

"You don't make policy. I want to talk to someone who does. Fadeout."

"He's not happy with you, Cowboy. You really fucked us over."

Bre

Dragon stood up slowly, carefully. "You don't want to start anything here, Cowboy. I'm head of security for this party-"

Bre

They stared at each other until Bre

"So?" one of the Werewolf guards in the corridor asked Bre

"So what?"

"Who's going off duty?"

"Oh." Bre

"What the hell?" the other one growled angrily. "That's not fair."

"Life's a bitch," Bre

Tuesday July 19, 1988

2:00 A. M.

The stale air trapped inside the unused sewer line that Chrysalis had converted to a secret Palace entrance stank of mold and rot. It was dark but for the beam from Bre

The sewer line led to a tu

Bre

He realized that once he saw her blood splattered on the walls, he would know without a doubt that Chrysalis was dead. She'd kept too much of herself to herself for him to have loved her, but he had shared her bed and some of her secrets. He'd known the lonely woman under the cool exterior. He hadn't loved her, but he could have. He couldn't forget that. It kept gnawing at him like the pain from an open wound, unbound and bleeding.

He remembered Chrysalis's office as a dark, quiet, charming room. It had a fabulous Oriental carpet on the floor, floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of leather-bound volumes that Chrysalis had actually read, solid oak-and-leather furniture, and dark, purple-patterned Victorian wallpaper. The room had even smelled of Chrysalis, of the exotic frangipani perfume she wore and the amaretto she drank. It had been a peaceful room, and he didn't want to see it transformed into a scene of death and destruction. But he had to. He took a deep breath, pulled away the tape that sealed the door, and entered the office.