Disclaimer: I'm poor. I own nothing
--o--o--o--
The pretty redhead gave a wry smile as she approached Xander's booth. "Something wrong Janine?" She asked innocently, taking in the other woman's put upon expression and the two feet between her and the young man she was sent to entertain.
"He won't play." Janine pouted.
Though she didn't show it the redhead was surprised, she didn't know many young men who could resists Janine's charms. None came immediately to mind in fact. Her estimation of the man in front of her just went up. A little.
"Mr. Harris," she said turning away from Janine. "Mr. Walker is ready to see you now. My name is Trisha, I'll escort you the rest of the way."
Standing up Xander took one of Janine's hands a pressed his lips to the back of it in what he hoped was a gentlemanly manner. Probably best to be as polite as possible in a den of killers. "Thank you for your company Janine. It's been a pleasure."
Janine made a show of looking him up and down and licking her lips. "Come back some time and I'll make it a real pleasure."
Xander tried not to blush as he turned to Trisha and offered his arm. "Shall we?"
"We shall." Trisha took his arm with a charming smile on her face. Since his booth was near the back already it was a short trip to the metal stairway along the back wall that led to an office overlooking the club.
"I think I insulted your friend," Xander told her as they climbed the stairs. He noticed she stayed in close as they went up the thin stairwell, her elegant silk kimono, a brilliant forest green that matched her eyes, rubbed against him with each step. He tried not to think about what was under it.
"She is simply unused to rejection," Trisha assured him. "Pay it no mind Alexander."
"Xander, please."
"Of course," she said as they reached the upper landing.
Standing on the landing in front of a door had to be the largest man Xander had ever seen. He would shame any of the wrestlers he used to watch on TV. The bald, clean-shaven man was easily seven feet tall with a neck thicker round than bother Xander's forearms. The slick black suit struggled to contain him; the buttons looked ready to fly off at the slightest shift in muscle.
He glared hard at Xander but, at a mere glance from Trisha, stepped aside and opened the door.
"Good evening Riktor," Trisha said absently as she led Xander into the room.
If the club had a slick ultramodern feel that was perhaps at odds with much of what he had seen in his travels, than Xander thought the office was equally out of place with the rest of the club.
Rich reds, hardwood and gold bas-reliefs gave it a very classical high society feel. A kind of importance that could easily make the unprepared feel like they were in the presence of someone greater than themselves. Which, Xander supposed, was part of the point, to throw people off guard. He hadn't been immune to it the first time he was here.
This time he was more concerned with the man sitting behind the large antique desk.
As Trisha brought Xander further in he heard the door click shut and knew without turning that Thick Neck followed them in. He tried his best not to let that worry him.
The man behind the desk stood up and Xander got a good look at him. He was around Xander's size, maybe an inch or two taller, the expensive high collared green silk shirt, a perfect match for Trisha's kimono, had a design in black that wrapped around the edges before disappearing behind a black jacket that did little to hid a powerful build.
Nowhere near as freakishly massive as Thick Neck perhaps, but certain more powerful than Xander himself, especially in the upper body.
A mane of thick shoulder length blonde hair framed a handsome face with an equally thick beard specked with red. He smiled warmly as they entered but Xander felt his golden eyes betrayed him. They seemed cold and calculating; the same as the last time he had seen them.
Trisha left him as she rounded the desk and pecked the man on the cheek. "Darling, Mr. Harris is here."
"So I see. Thank you love," he said before he leaned down and whispered something in Trisha's ear. She nodded and walked past Xander to stand by the door.
Thick Neck came forward, positioning himself off to the side but noticeably between Xander and his boss.
"Good evening Mr. Walker," Xander said politely.
"Please," Walker started with a smile and his arms open in a friendly gesture. Xander didn't believe it for a second. "If you have come to say you were successful than you have more then earned the right to call me Anton."
Xander unslung the long plastic case from his shoulder and cradled it in his hands. "I got it," he assured.
"Good, good," Anton said as he rounded his desk to stand in front of Xander. He gestured to the case. "May I?"
Despite the infliction Xander wasn't foolish enough to think it was a request he could deny and held the container out. "Be my guest."
With the utmost care Anton took the case in his own hands. Undoing the clasp he popped the lid off and gently removed the cloth wrapped object out. Placing the empty case on his desk Anton took the object in both hands and almost reverently removed the cloth.
"Exquisite," Anton breathed, his eyes shining with genuine interest as he examined what lay in his hands. It was a large yellow-brown horn that had a curve to it that grew more pronounced as it neared the razor sharp tip. "What is this? Three feet?"
"About an inch shy of, but close enough."
"I'm impressed," Anton said finally taking his eyes off the horn to regard Xander. "Three feet, this had to come from an Elder."
"It did." Xander told him simply.
"Are you aware," Anton asked. "That a D'Caran demon's horns continue to grow until the day they die?"
"I've been told as much."
"I sent nearly a dozen teams to the D'Caran tribe's camp on Triumph," He told Xander as he set the horn down and lean casually on his desk. "For reasons that are not important at the moment The Pride could not get involved directed with the D'Carans so we had to work through intermediaries. Thieves, mercenaries, hardened killers, I sent just about everything. All failed. No survivors.
"Then, one day, this kid walks into one of my clubs and offers me a deal. He'll get the materials I would need and then some if I perform a ritual for him. The horn was needed for this ritual, among others, but due to the ferocious warriors the D'Carans are reputed to be this task is saved for last.
"So Alexander," Anton asked as he straightened up and held Xander's gaze with his own. "How did you succeed where so many other failed?"
"I asked nicely."
Anton just stared for a long moment. Then, slowly, he gave a full-bellied laugh and clapped Xander on the shoulder. "Fine, keep your secrets my young friend."
Xander shrugged. How was he supposed to explain to a violent criminal that he really did ask the demon for it?
Instead Xander asked, "And your end of the deal? When can we perform the ritual? How soon?"
Anton thought for a moment. "Tonight I suppose." Then a predatory smile grew on his face. "Yes, tonight would work perfectly."
Xander really didn't like how he said that.
"I like you Alexander," Walker told him, the predatory smile never left his face though neither he or Thick Neck made a move towards him. "You have a sense of humour to you that, sadly, we often lack around here. But, let's face it, we both knew this was coming."
Still neither man moved.
Something's wrong, Xander thought. Mojo guy in front of me not making with the mojo, huge mountain of a man to the side not making with the violence; no, something's definitely not right about this.
Then Xander remembered the woman standing behind him a fraction of a second before the back of his head exploded in pain. The last thought going through Xander's head before his world went dark was, that's it! From now on I just assume every woman I meet wants to hurt me!
