As The World Falls Down

“Why Constantine!” The cigarette nearly fell out of Cruella’s Gloved hands. Usually the djinn cane in once in a while to play poker with thevdemons on Wednesdays. But here he was, in her nightclub with no members of the little club in sight. She tapped ash onto the table, flashing her white teeth in a grin at him. “One does not let the Devil himself upset their business! Besides, his hoarded make excellent business.”

Cruella managed a tentative smile. Leave it to the djinn to come in and try and butter her out of her sensible workwoman status. Her teeth, not stained brown from the cigarette, glittered in the blood red light. She didn't forget the time he had offered his blood and let him drink. He had been delicious. Yet she had to maintain control of herself. This was her roof. The last thing she wanted to do was come off as a harlot; that was the job of her pack to do, and most of the time it was an act.

"I have to say, between Samhain," she refused to call it 'Halloween', "and the apocalypse, I've been making bank. Even the pack is coming in to their own. Angel was finally able to pay off the overdue rent she was complaining about to me..."

But before she could finish, something rattled above them. Note to self; change one of the upstairs rooms into something other than a pleasure shed. Because the chandelier, a beauty shipped in from Austria with authentic crystal, snapped off of its chain and hurtled towards them.

The twinkling if the crystals sounded more like death bells. The edges of the glass and Swavorski could have easily cut into skin. Before she could feel it’s stibg, Cruella was pushed aside. She clutched the bar to support her slight frame, glancing as she saw it hit the blonde djinn. “Con! Are you all right?”

The weak okay sign was his only answer. Oh, it was typical of him. Leave someone looking in and shake it off with charm. After giving him a smile, Cruella pulled her phone from the folds of her fur coat. Her clawed fingers dialed quickly and she channeled her power of manipulation. The green tendrils of mind controlling aura would leak through the phone into the victim’s ear.

“Yes, I’m looking for a replacement chandelier. Red and silver. Well it bloody fell down! What do you think happened? Deliver it to Bellerouge Louisiana. I don’t bloody care if traffic in and out in cancelled! I want it as soon as bloody possible!”

"Darling, when you have money, sitting on it just seems like a waste. Besides," she nodded to the rubble on the floor. "The chandelier is replacable. The counter, too. But the good news is," her gloved hand stroked a small part of the bar. The crystals filled with blood had exploded and were starting to smear over. She sucked her fingers and snapped them. A few of her girls approached, setting down their glasses. As Cruella gestured to the blood on the counter. "Enjoy, ladies. It's vintage." On cue, the girls eyes glowed a bright red. They leapt onto the spills from the crystals, drinking up the blood that was spilled onto the floor. "And you," she pointed to the bartender, "get this man a honey whiskey."

“Perhaps what I can have you do is clean the counter,” Cruella suggested. “Buying blood removal is always such a hassle.” She gathered up her crystal glass and dipped in thought. Health inspectors were like phantoms in this area, but they always cane to her establishment. She watched a bouncer turn away someone from giving a fake ID. “they’re more than capable of taking care of themselves, Con.” She finished her blood laced wine and set the glass down. “The blood waltz starts in a few, and I can’t be too intoxicated if I’m to help my ladies.”