Free Hell's Horizon by Darren Shan Page B

and hardly any seems to be left over at the close of the weekend.”
    She drove carefully, eyes glued to the road, not talking.
    When she pulled up and I saw where we were—the Kool Kats Klub—I stiffened and a lot of the joy seeped out of the evening. Priscilla noted this and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
    I subjected her to a level gaze. “Nice choice of venue,” I said sarcastically.
    “The Kool Kats?” she laughed. “I come here all the time. What do you have against…?” She slapped her forehead and groaned. “How much dumber can I get? I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t think. We’ll leave.”
    “No.” I forced a smile. She was testing me—she knew exactly what she was doing when she picked this place. “I’m fine.”
    The Kool Kats Klub was better known as the Ku Klux Klub, the name it had originally opened under, until the clamoring of irate citizens forced the change. It was a nest for the racist rich. I’d been inside once with the Troops to apprehend a pedophile. The sympathy of the clientele, as I dragged the son of a bitch out, was firmly on the abuser’s side, even though they knew him for what he was.
    It hadn’t changed much. All the walls painted white. White customers, white staff, even a couple of pure white cats that roamed the halls imperiously.
    The receptionist’s nostrils flared when he spotted my black face bobbing into the lobby, and when he smiled it looked as if he were passing a kidney stone. “May I help you, sir ?” he asked icily, hands fidgeting at the buttons of his waistcoat.
    “I’m collecting for disabled Negro war veterans,” I said, just for his reaction. If his jaw had been detachable it would have dropped to the floor, sprouted legs and scuttled away in shock.
    “Ignore him, Martin,” Priscilla said, taking my arm and giggling. “Mr. Jeery is my guest for the night. I trust he will be treated with respect.”
    The receptionist focused on Priscilla and smiled shakily. “Miss Perdue. Of course. Any guest of yours is a guest of ours.” His eyes flared beadily over me. “Would you care to be seated anywhere in particular?”
    “My usual table.”
    He coughed, nodded sharply and led us to Priscilla’s “usual table,” which was situated in the center of the dining room.
    “Miss Perdue,” the receptionist said once he’d seated us. He faced me and blanched. “ Sir ,” he added with a curt nod and hurried away.
    “Thanks, Martin.” I tossed the smallest coin I could find after him. The clink as it hit the marble floor was the loudest sound in the restaurant.
    Faces darkened as I was ogled by incredulous diners. Angry women whispered to their partners, who shook their heads, sneered, then deliberately turned their backs on me. A couple of boys shouted, “Look at the nigger!” and were quickly shushed by their mothers, who then quietly applauded them.
    Priscilla acted as if nothing were wrong and I went along with the game, smiling vacuously, idly examining the decor, pretending to be one of the gang, perfectly at home, unaware of the arctic atmosphere.
    “We seem to be creating something of a scandal,” Priscilla said as we were handed wine menus by a silently outraged waiter.
    “That’s what we came for, wasn’t it?”
    “Why, Al,” she gasped, eyes widening innocently. “Whatever do you mean?”
    “You wanted to see what would happen when you threw Nic’s little brown soldier to the lions.”
    “Al! I never—”
    “Stick it up your ass,” I said pleasantly. “Let’s talk about Nic.”
    “You may leave if you wish,” she said, eyes downcast.
    “And miss a great meal? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
    She squinted at me, then nodded. “Tell me what you want to know.”
    I asked about her friendship with Nic, how long they’d known each other, what sort of a life Nic had led, the men she’d dated, if she’d been in trouble lately.
    They’d been best friends for years. Nic had led a full life. She’d lived fast and partied hard. There