Night Prayers (15 page)

Stay close by, Lord
, Mica prayed,
and best put on Your hip boots… it's running pretty high in here
.

Whatever Gypsy was doing in the dressing room, Mica was dead certain it had nothing to do with music and lights.

"So I tell you what, you go home and I'll personally tell the Gypsy you got tired of waiting."

"That's real tempting," Mica said, "but I think I'll just wait. I don't have anything better to do."

Do I, Lord?

Miriam's face went stony as she stepped back from the table.

"Like I should tell you what to do. Stay up all night if that's what you want.
Gina
… you be nice and don't give him any hassle, you hear? Now, I gotta get back to those three before they start peeling the wallpaper off with their teeth. Be good!"

Mica nodded even though he wasn't sure which one of them Miriam's parting shot had been directed at. Lord knows
he
was trying to be good.

Trying
even though he kept seeing Luci and Gypsy and the Woman-Who-Wasn't-Piper rolling around the floor of the dressing room
— naked, sweating bodies crawling… touching… sucking…

"Are you gonna fuckin' sit there all night?" Gina suddenly hissed, slapping the table with her palm.

Oh, Lord…

"Well, ain't this a cozy little scene."

Mica's head snapped around so quickly he was sure he'd heard one of the vertebra in his neck pop. Gypsy leaned up against the end of the booth, a shadow among shadows… one with a shit-eating grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Gyp?"

"What's the matter, Preacher-boy?" he asked, leaning over and punching Mica lightly on the arm. Only this time it
was
lightly. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"So what's so special about him?"

Dressed in the conservative starlet outfit that Luci had picked out for her: Slit-to-the-thigh hip-hugger jeans and a plunging-to-the-belly-button sequined top and shoes that would make a podiatrist cream his shorts, Allison folded her arms over her breasts and squinted at the man gaping up at Gypsy.

He didn't look like anything special. His dirt-water brown hair was too long for his thin face — his hawkish nose too long for his narrow eyes. His whole manner too young for the body that held it. All he needed was glasses and a pencil stuck behind his ears and he'd look like a grown up version of the Audio-Visual nerds Allison and her girlfriends used to laugh at in high school.

"That's the Preacher-boy," Luci said. The little white dinner dress that she'd slipped into made a soft rustling sound as she stepped up behind Allison and ran a hand slowly down her back. "He works out front. But you better watch out for him. He's a real dyed-in-the-wool True Believer, always talking up the Big G and praying for our immortal souls."

Allison felt her skin crawl under Luci's cold hand.

"He's a
holy
man," she gasped, "and he can still come in here? Isn't he supposed to burst into flames or something?"

"Believe me, he's come close," Luci said, "but so far all he's done is smolder. A little."

Allison shook her head — shook off Luci's hand and pressed her back against the wall. What the hell was a preacher doing working for the damned?

"I already told you, Alley-cat," Luci said out loud, answering the unspoken question. "Besides, I like having him around… it's a challenge."

Allison watched the smile mold itself around Luci's fangs.

"What challenge? Everyone knows a Man of…" Allison pointed one finger toward the water damaged ceiling, "…
you know
is immune to our kind."

Luci's emerald greens blinked slowly, as if she were coming out of a deep sleep.

"Is that more paperback novel crap? Jesus, I wish you hadn't read all that shit. Look, no one is immune to us, baby.
No one
." Luci grabbed Allison's shoulders and turned her back toward the far booth. "Sometimes the rules of the hunt change, but that's all. If we sucked him now, his blood would destroy us… okay, so that part's
like
the books. But all we have to do is make him lose his faith. And that's going to be a whole hell of a lot easier now that you're here.

"So come on," Luci said, looping her arm through Allison's and dragging her away from the wall. "Suck in your fangs and stick out your tits. I can hardly wait to introduce you two."

Allison let herself be herded across the room even though she could have waited.

Could have waited an
eternity
if she had to.

Too many things had already happened for one night. The last thing she needed was to make the acquaintance of a Fire-and-Brimstone Preacher.

But I don't understand? Why him?

Because
, Luci's voice whispered against the inside of her ears,
I WANT to
.

Mica licked his lips and tried hard not to stare.

A ghost was
exactly
what Gypsy looked like. His face — or, at least the part that showed beneath his cap and above his dark stubble
— hovered above Mica in the darkness like some disembodied spirit.

"You got a problem, pard?" the spirit face asked. "Don't think I ever heard you stay quiet so long and still be conscious. What's the matter? Gina get your tongue?"

The low, booming laugh sounded like Gypsy's… but there was something missing. Something.

It
just felt
wrong.

"Well, c'mon, Preacher-boy," Gypsy's voice chuckled, "say something or I really will think you and Gina were getting it on."

"Fuck," Gina groaned, "
that'll
be the day."

Mica scooted higher against the seat and cleared his throat.

"You look like shit, Gyp."
Lord, don't let me ask. It's none of my business. Please, Lord
. "What the hell were you doing back there all night?"

Thanks, Lord. I sure hope YOU know what I'm doing.

Gypsy thumbed the cap back on his head as the smile inched farther across his face.

If that was possible.

"Just talking to that little girl you brought in, man. That's all. Just talking."

Mica's belly cinched into a tight ball. Another lie. This one from his closest friend. Even Gina snorted her disbelief.

What the hell happened back in that room, Lord?

"Hey, they're coming over," Gypsy said as he reached into the booth and hauled Mica to his feet. "Stand up and act like a gentleman. And for
God's sake
don't
get all sacramental, first thing, okay? Let Allison get to know you before you fall to the floor and start talking in tongues. All right? Comprende, amigo?"

Mica nodded without really hearing the question.

Allison. Her name was Allison.

The stage spots had been left on and they back lit her hair as she and Luci walked toward the booth. A golden-red halo surrounded her head. Mica swallowed hard and moved his hands to the front of his jeans — less concerned that they might think he'd peed himself than he was that they'd see the sudden bulge under his fly.

Allison.

Her pale skin glowed in the soft light, competed with the glimmering sparkles on her shirt. Allison… the woman who wasn't Piper. She looked even more beautiful
— if that was possible — than when he'd first carried her into the club.

If that was possible.

It had only been three hours (
only
three) since he brought her in and she'd been dead drunk.

Or something.

"… and this is the famed and fabled Preacher-boy," Luci was saying, pushing the glittering, radiant,
sober
creature toward him. "Preacher-boy… this is Allison. Alley-cat, for short."

Mica nodded and forced the corners of his mouth into a smile.

"Hey," he said.

She sneezed.

Long.

Loud.

And hard.

"Bless you!"

He would have said the same thing even if he hadn't signed up for a life-time hitch in the Army of the Lord, anyone would, but by the looks on all their faces — Gypsy's included
— you would have thought he'd suddenly pulled out a gun or consigned them to the everlasting flames of Hell!

"I'm outta here!" Gina snarled as she slid out of the booth and stalked away. "I don't gotta put up with this — not for you, not for nobody! I been here too long't'let some uppity Fledgy come 'tween me an' what's mine an' I sure as fuck don't gotta listen't'no white-assed, psalm-singin', Bible-humpin'…"

She was still muttering when she got to where Miriam was standing with the three men — any of whom looked capable of tearing off major portions of Mica's anatomy without breaking into a sweat.

"
Shit
, Preacher-boy," Gypsy growled, "what'd I just tell you not more than two minutes ago?"

The booth lights came on before Mica could answer. Although it seemed as if he was the only one who noticed. Or blinked in the sudden glare.

"That's okay, Gypsy," Luci said softly, as if she were calming an attack dog. "Preacher-boy was just doing what comes natural. He didn't mean anything by it."

Mica got the impression that the last statement had been directed to Allison.

"Poor Alley-cat's just getting over a cold," Luci said, patting the woman's bare arm. "In fact, she took one too many of those little time-released capsules before… that's why she was acting a little loopy tonight. Gypsy and I spent the last few hours pouring coffee down her throat, then holding her head over the John when she poured it back up. Isn't that right, Alley-cat?"

The woman — Allison — nodded from behind her hands, her golden-brown eyes wide and staring. But Mica couldn't tell if the expression in them was embarrassment or something else. Luci's explanation covered all the bases. Just one cold tablet left him sleepier than hell. If she'd accidentally taken too many under the "if one works, more is better" delusion, she probably would have looked drunk.
And
helping her get rid of them
would
have kept Luci and Gypsy busy.

For three hours.

Without one word of explanation.

It all made perfect sense.

It just gave Mica a creepy feeling that all his questions were answered
before
he said anything. Out loud.