“You’re going soft, Mr. Nightmare,” he said.
“If Miss Carnadine wasn’t here, your brains would already be decorating the walls.” I turned to Ariadne. “You got somewhere else we can talk?”
We quit the room and I felt myself slowly getting control of my fury. Ariadne gave me a quick hug.
“I don’t like it anymore than you do,” she said. “But it’s all we’ve got.”
“So what’s the plan?”
* * * *
I had to wear a tuxedo, and worse than that, a bow tie and shoes that were so polished they dazzled the eye. I had to look the part for my appearance at the Big Jamboree. Ariadne told me we were to act as if the whole show was going to be fine and we had no idea that something sinister was going on. I knew her administrative machinery was ultra-slick, but the trick she pulled off with the guests was, to my mind, beyond belief. Somehow she’d gotten discreet word to every guest that the show was postponed for a few days, but that it would go ahead, very sorry, and no one would be disappointed once it did. No doubt it caused ripples throughout city society, especially as diaries had to be adjusted, but it had to be done. The dignitaries and celebrities did not want to miss this, so they’d do as asked.
Diamonds Are Forever, however, was about to have a dummy run. Ariadne was going to fill the place with hired guns, or at least, guys she could depend on to tackle whatever the Angels of Malice were lining up. I’d told her that by alerting her guests, she’d have simply been warning the enemy off, but she pointed out that the major servants of darkness would be keeping well out of things, given what they thought was going to happen.
The Pullulating Tribe. That’s what was going to happen. I thought Henry had blown the whole mob to atoms, but Ariadne said van Brazen had told her we’d only gotten shot of a handful, sacrificed in the grand deceit. The main task force was all geared up and ready to roll.
“What the heck are these things going to do?” I’d asked her.
“They’re parasites. Think of demonic possession.”
“Do I have to?”
“Once they’re summoned and unleashed, they’ll attempt to possess everyone in the club. Can you imagine what that would have meant if it had been the original guests? New York city taken over by servants of Satan, big time.”
“Right—so now it’s just you, me and your private army that stand to be possessed.”
“Forewarned is forearmed,” she’d smiled. “We’ll fight fire with fire. Magic with magic. When I was in Europe, I was warned that the forces of evil were stirring and I brought back a few goodies.”
So once again I was wearing my special sigils and my bangles, baubles, and beads. They’d worked okay when I’d clashed with the Pullulating Tribe before, so maybe they’d protect me again. If I’d had any sense, I’d have been on a Greyhound bus heading far off into the West. But it was Ariadne.
When I entered the club and gave the doorman my invite card, the place was already humming. Everyone inside—and there was a huge crowd, very convincing—was giving a first class impression of having a good time, drinking, dancing, fooling around as any normal guest would do at such an occasion. I recognised a few faces—tough guys on Ariadne’s team—and I marveled that she’d been able to gather so many together, like a private army. But I knew there was a lot more to her than met the eye.
She would enter separately, probably keeping out of the way until she made her appearance as FiFi Cherie, although if things went as expected, she’d not be needed to sing. Things were going to blow up before then.
On the wide stage, the regular band was playing, maybe with a tad less gusto than usual. Ariadne had told me she’d given them instructions to beat it once the two new singers were introduced. She’d brought in some special support for them. Van Brazen had told her that the girls were under a form of hypnosis and would speak and act as normal, oblivious to the fact that when they started to sing, the powers fused into them would be unlocked. They had no idea they were being used.
Ariadne put this to the test by gradually having the crowd dissipate. The two girls were backstage. As far as they knew, things were swinging along and they were getting tense and nervous about their debuts. Whatever had been implanted in them was waiting, like some kind of beasts about to pounce. As long as events around them panned out as expected, they wouldn’t be warned off. Ariadne reckoned that Carmella Cadenza and her immediate confederates were watching events through the eyes of the girls. So, by the time the two of them slid out on to the stage, to perform a duet, most of the audience had left the building.
I was in the wings, watching. Ariadne knew her stuff—she’d had the lighting fixed so that the girls couldn’t see beyond the glare off stage. As far as they knew, there was a full house out there. Whereas in fact there were now no more than a dozen people, all with a particular power placed there by Ariadne. Around the walls, tall curtains, heavy velvet stuff, had been hung in a wide circle, so the place was closed in, and would prevent sound echoing in a way that would suggest the place was empty. Ariadne had told me it would suit the enemy, who wouldn’t want a single soul, literally, to escape the trap.
It was late when the moment came. The band, also reduced now to a few guys who were more than just straight members, again selected by Ariadne, struck up the chords that would prompt the two girls to take the stage. Lights flared, spotlights swiveled, as Maria Mozzari and Suki Yosimoto appeared and began to sing. It seemed like they were unaware of the change in the hall. They just sang.
It was weird stuff. Almost like it wasn’t human, high-pitched beyond the normal vocal range and eerie. The girls interlocked the sounds. Maybe a free form jazz fan would have made something of it, but it was pure headache music to me. Ariadne was at my shoulder. I glanced at her. As far as the girls knew, she was due on stage as FiFi Cherie, but by now she’d changed into her black Ninja gear, complete with those two blades that could slice a human hair into a dozen pieces.
“Now we’re cooking with gas,” I whispered.
“Keep your mind on your job,” she whispered back, jabbing me in the ribs, but she was right. This was a time to concentrate. The muck was about to hit the fan.
I shifted around the edge of the stage, easing down some wooden steps to the auditorium floor, to where I could see it clearly, my eyes no longer dazzled by the brilliant glare. I had my twin Berettas out, although when it comes to that old black magic, I’m never sure if they’re going to be effective. I do like the feel-good factor, though.
It had already started. Enemy action. That dreadful singing was bearing fruit. Something was curling up through the floorboards, like a dawn miasma from a swamp. The air became foetid as the vapours thickened and coalesced. They had an unhealthy resemblance to the stuff that had steamed over the weird landscape Henry and I had visited before the Pullulating Tribe had materialised. Sure enough, it was happening again—the girls’ voices rose and shrilled, conducting this bizarre summoning to the point where the first shapes solidified, quickly multiplying.
Dripping with ooze, these things were only vaguely humanoid in shape, but their purpose was clear—they were intent on assailing the remaining people in the hall. Ariadne had told me she’d chosen them carefully—they were adepts, all of them purporting to be masters of spiritual matters. Each of them carried a weapon, either a short sword-like instrument or a wand and as the air began to boil with the gathering Tribe, these weapons glowed with white light.
I watched from the side-lines, sweat dripping off me. A furious battle was taking off. Scores of the infestations from beyond were hurling themselves at the adepts, the clashing of power drowning out the girls’ singing until two of Ariadne’s remaining members of the band jabbed each of them with a needle and took them out of the scene altogether. It shut off the flowing