Chapter 21 The Spirit is Willing
In Which Miss True has reason to question, and not for the first time, probably, her roommate’s taste in men.
By the time she and Cecily reached the Club Cyba-Netsu, Cassandra was having second thoughts. "Can't we go someplace else?" she asked.
"What's wrong with the Cyba-Netsu?" Cecily asked. "It's a fun place."
"It's just kind of creepy, that's all."
"We've been here before and it's never bothered you." Cecily frowned. Then she nodded and gave Cassandra a knowing grin. "Oh! I get it! Last time you were here was with him!"
"That's not it!" Cassandra couldn't very well tell her about the vampire; she'd just laugh. Cassandra wasn't even sure herself what she saw last night. It was all mixed up in her mind with Strephon and that weird Kurayami woman. "Couldn't we just go someplace normal, I mean?"
Cecily grabbed her flatmate by the shoulders and shoved her through the club's entrance. "Girl, you need some danger in your life! Normal is the last thing you need!"
Cassandra hesitated as she entered the club. It looked the same as before; the same mix of goths, neo-punks and ravers; fetishists and eccentrics; but this time Cassandra could not help but feel something disturbingly wrong. The biker with the little fake horns glued to his forehead; were those really fake? The girl with the spiked collar who licked her lips as Cassandra passed, was that tongue forked? Cassandra shook her head and told herself to relax.
They sat down at their usual table. Cecily ordered a Dark Delight. Cassandra ordered a Fuzzy Navel. Cecily tapped out electronic greetings on her seat's laptop to one or two people whose usernames she recognized. Cassandra just sat and lurked. She didn't really feel like socializing. Her puppy avatar smiled at her from her computer screen. Why did she have to choose such a dippy avatar?
Cassandra felt extremely self-conscious, as if everyone in the club was staring at her. She was probably the only person in the whole club drinking a Fuzzy Navel. She glanced furtively around the room.
Someone was staring at them.
Cassandra tapped out an IM to Cecily. She recalled Strephon's comment on how silly it was to send an electronic message to someone right next to one, but she felt safer this way; she did not want to be seen exchanging whispers.
SanDee27: I think that guy at that table over there is watching us.
Cecily looked around. Then sent:
SinGrrl: Who? is he cute?
SanDee27: Across the dance floor. In the corner under the Guinness sign.
Cecily saw him; a small man in a grimy coat with dark stains on his t-shirt. He grinned in her direction.
SinGrrl: i don't see a username logged in at his table.
Cecily waved at him and gave him a wink. The guy grinned back. Cecily stood up.
"What are you doing?" Cassandra hissed, forgetting to use the computer.
"I'm going to see if he wants to dance."
Cassandra grasped her arm. "Don't," she said.
"Don't worry about me. I'm a big girl. I won't leave you alone, I promise."
Cecily's carefree laugh did little to calm Cassandra. She was certain she had seen that guy before, but she couldn't place his face. She watched Cecily go over to the guy's table. They chatted a bit, and then he rose and led her to the dance floor.
"Would you like another drink, miss?"
The waiter came up behind Cassandra so silently that he nearly scared the wits out of her. She caught her breath` as she recognized Ricky, the green-haired waiter from the night before. The vampire...
"What? Oh, no. I'm fine," Cassandra said. "Er, tell me. Do you know the name of the man who was sitting at that table over there? The one who's dancing with my friend?"
The waiter looked in the direction she indicated. "There has been no one at that table all night." He scanned the dance floor. "I do not see your friend."
Cassandra barely heard him. She had just remembered where she recognized the man's face. It was Greg Hans, a murderer and rapist whose picture had been in the Oracle only the week before.
She rose abruptly, knocking over her glass. "Excuse me!" she said and bolted towards the dance floor. Creatures of the night stared at her as she blundered through the dance. Through the flickering lights and bobbing heads she caught a glimpse of Cecily near one of the exits.
Frantically, Cassandra tried to weave her way through the dance floor. She reached the exit and burst through the door. The guy had Cecily up against the side of the alley, apparently just chatting her up. Then he pulled the knife out of his coat.
“Cecily!” Cassandra shouted.
The guy turned to face her and she now saw that the stains on his t-shirt were bloody bullet holes. Only then did she remember the story that went with his photo: Greg Hans, suspected rapist and murderer, shot to death while resisting arrest...
"Hans, what are you doing here? You don't belong here." The icy tone made Cassandra's flesh creep. She whirled and saw Miss Kurayami standing behind her.
Kurayami slid past Cassandra like a wraith and confronted the dead man. "You are no longer welcome in my establishment," she said, her mask-like face stern and unforgiving. "Go."
The dead man's face twisted in rage. His lips mouthed a curse, but no words came out; only a thin, piercing moan. Then his body dissolved, like a forgotten mist.
"Good evening, Miss True," Kurayami said, turning to Cassandra. "I am sorry we had to meet again under such distasteful circumstances. I will have words with my doormen. In the meantime, please come back in and enjoy the hospitality of my establishment." She inclined her head in a courteous, but not obsequious bow, and gestured to the door.
Cassandra glanced at Cecily. "You wanted danger?”
* * * * *
“That guy was a ghost?" Cecily squealed. "I almost made out with a ghost! Wicked!"
"Cecily!" Cassandra gasped. "The man was a murderer and a serial rapist!"
"Well, yeah. That part is kind of creepy."
"And he's dead!"
"There are many ghosts in this city," Miss Kurayami said serenely as she sipped her tea. "Some continue to walk the earth in a mockery of their former life."
Cassandra shuddered, but she could not help be intrigued in spite of herself. "Do many ghosts come here?"
Lady Kurayami favored her with a cryptic smile. "Perhaps."
"Any cute ones?"
"Cecily!" Cassandra scolded. Then she turned back to Kurayami. "If a ghost haunts this place it must have been important in its life, right? Did Greg Hans come here often when he was alive?"
Kurayami's smile ceased. "Greg Hans was a sick and diseased animal. A beast with no sense of restraint. My club was only one of the places he sought his victims. You are not going to write about this, are you Miss True?"
Cassandra froze in the process of fishing her mini-recorder out of her purse. "Uh, well, I think the ghosts of Redemption would make an interesting story, don't you?"
"I cater to people with dark tastes, Miss True; people who relish the bizarre, the unconventional, the mysterious; people whom some would call monsters. Greg Hans, however, was a true monster. I would not like to have my establishment associated with such a creature as he."
"Oh. Yes. I can see your point of view." Cassandra fidgeted with the recorder. She found something about the small quiet woman to be extremely intimidating. “Stories and secrets,” she muttered to herself. She braced her nerve and added, "Perhaps you know of some friendly ghosts? Ghosts you wouldn't mind associating with?"
Lady Kurayami pondered the question. "Perhaps..." she conceded. "Mind you, I can make no guarantees. Spirits are extremely fickle."
"See if you can find one with a nice bum."
"Cecily!!!"
