arboreal_priestess | Dave's Fish and Strips, Verity's Baltimore, Monday Evening (Reply)

With Piyusha dead, there was one last avenue Verity knew she could go to for good information: Dave. Bogeymen collected information the way dragon princesses hoarded gold and were just as cutthroat about parting with it. But Verity had her own information to trade--and other options as well if Dave decided he didn't want to play nice.

Of course, she was also going to tell Dave that he should probably shut down until the snake cultists were caught, but Verity was going to wait to tell him she was cutting into his revenue stream until after she'd gotten all the information she'd needed.

Liam	Verity being, well... Verity, she'd insisted on taking the literal high road to Dave's, and Liam was all too happy to oblige, jumping from rooftop to rooftop until they finally reached their destination. "Think he'll take your advice about shutting down?" Liam asked, once they'd scaled their way down the building.
Verity	"Eventually?" Verity asked, taking a second to talk at normal volume before opening the door and letting all the loud, stripper music out. "Yes. But it's going to take some talking, some threatening, and probably a deal or two. Dave hates losing money and losing information streams and this will make him lose out on both."
Liam	"And that some people might lose their lives is secondary, of course," Liam said with a roll of his eyes. He was all too familiar with the type, sadly.
Verity	"I see you got an accurate bead on his personality then," Verity said wryly. "Ready to go threaten violence until Dave sees reason?" She didn't give him time to answer, opening the door and letting the music blare out into the street. It would actually be quieter inside; Dave just liked people thinking his place was loud and 'happening' from the street. "We need to warn people!" she called. "You check in with Ryan and I'll catch the waitresses in the dressing room. This way, even if Dave stays an idiot, people can make their own choices!"
Liam	"Gotcha!" Liam said, heading inside. It was early enough in the evening that the place wasn't yet crowded, so spotting Ryan was easy enough: at the bar, over by the register and chatting with... Angel, Liam thought her name was. "Ryan, hey," he greeted, figuring he might want to ease in to the whole 'everyone should probably get the hell out of Dodge' conversation just a little.
Ryan	"Hey hey," Ryan said, looking up from his conversation with Angel. "You're Very's Liam, right? How goes it? Still chasing down cryptids ahead of the Covenant?"
Liam	"Not exactly," Liam said with a sigh, not even able to really enjoy being referred to as 'Very's Liam', given the seriousness of what had brought them here tonight. "Turns out there's bigger... snakes to wrangle." Or snake cults, anyway, since it turned out there were no actual snakes involved.
Ryan	"Snakes to wrangle?" Ryan asked. "Is that why Carol didn't show up to work today? It's not like her to call out, never mind not show up at all."
Liam	"Shit," Liam hissed. "That's exactly why," he continued, "Do you have her address? Because we need to get to wherever she lives right now." If there was a bright side to the snake-cult managing to grab another young woman, it was that it happened to be someone they could possibly track down before she met the same fate as Piyusha.
Verity	Verity was having similar thoughts as she cut through the crowd straight towards them. "Liam!" she called. "Ryan! I need you both--" She paused to shove a drunk guy out of her way, taking the last few steps to reach the bar. "Thank god you're both here," she said. "Ryan, did Carol--"
Ryan	"She didn't call in, she just didn't show," Ryan said, his face already becoming distinctly more shaggy as his control on his therianthrope nature slipped. "Liam wants us going to her apartment. Very, what's up?" Liam was cool and all, but Ryan wasn't taking him to a gorgon's apartment without a damn good reason.
Verity	"You know how cryptid girls have been disappearing? Well, there's a snake cult under the city, and I'm pretty sure they're sacrificing them to a dragon in order to try waking it up. Not that it cares, since, well, dragons, not all that into the eating of sentient creatures and are you even listening to me or are you too busy staring like I just grew a second head?" Verity touched her shoulder automatically. No extra head greeted her. After the week she'd been having, that was something of a relief.
Ryan	"Dragons are extinct, Verity," said Ryan, glancing between the two humans on the opposite side of the bar.
Verity	"And humans don't fraternize with cryptids, but there's Angel, and here I am--" Hopefully nobody would notice her just eliding over Liam right there, "--and somewhere under this city there are a bunch of assholes feeding cryptid girls to a sleeping dragon because they think it's the way to achieve ultimate cosmic power. Or something like that. I don't know--I haven't found the snake cult yet and, when I do, they can explain themselves to me during the pauses."
Ryan	"The pauses?" asked Ryan. His canines were starting to get more pronounced, too. That was good. That meant that he was taking Verity seriously.
Verity	"I can't beat their heads against the wall constantly, now can I? So will you go, or do I have to start beating your head against the wall?" Carol's lifespan was possibly being measured in minutes and Verity was getting annoyed with every single one that passed without them moving.
Angel	"I'll drive," said Angel. Verity shot her a startled look. She met it without batting an eye. "Carol's my friend, too, and if she's in trouble, the more people coming to kick ass, the better." Verity couldn't argue that point. Besides, with Angel driving, they'd get there a lot faster than walking, even if Ryan went full tanuki to get there. "Give me five minutes to get changed and I'll pick you up in front of the club."
Ryan	"We're going," said Ryan. He watched Angel go before looking back to Verity. "Very, I really hope you’re wrong about this."
Liam	"I'll go too," Liam said, reaching to grab Verity's hand and clasp their fingers together briefly. "I can be more help there than with you as you try to talk sense into Dave. I'll call as soon as we know anything."
Verity	Verity leaned over to give Liam a fierce kiss. "Be safe and be smart," she said, but didn't bother to talk him out of it. Price girls were pragmatists and that involved sending loved ones into danger from time to time. "Now get out of here and make sure I don't lose anymore friends today. We're running out of Covenant reps to go fetch them."
Liam	As reluctant as Liam was to break away from that kiss, the sound of Ryan's phone buzzing as Angel let him know she was ready was his cue to go. "The same goes for you," he said. "Good luck with Dave," and with that, he and Ryan made their way through the crowd and out the door.
Verity	Verity shook off the slight melancholy that had arisen when Liam had left; she'd gotten used to working with someone who had her back and it was weird to be alone again. But that was an indulgence reserved for little girls who weren't knee deep in snake cult murders. She to go and explain to a bogeyman why he needed to shut down his livelihood. Carol was the second cryptid woman Verity knew of who'd been attacked and had a job that brought her regularly into contact with the public. The cult might have started with the ones who lived outside human society, but they were getting more central. Scanning the club floor, Verity could see half a dozen cryptids from where she stood without really making an effort, and that didn't include any of the staff. She shook her head and made for the stairs. Dave's was an all-you-can-kill buffet.
Dave	The darks were on in Dave's office, spilling through the open door to fill the hall with an almost physical weight. Approaching the doorway was like wading into pools of tar that had no substance, only darkness deep enough to swallow all the light in the world. "Very, Very, quite contrary." His voice drifted from the dark, sounding more suited to an ancient tomb--curse optional--than the manager's office of a strip club. "How does your garden grow, I wonder? I wasn't sure we’d be seeing you around here again, given what the streets are saying."
Verity	"And what's that?" Verity held her position, not moving any closer to the too-solid darkness. She wasn't angry enough for that much bravado, and something about the sound of Dave's voice was putting her nerves more on edge than they already were. He liked his horror host turned pornographer routine, but he normally dropped it within the first few words.
Dave	"That you've changed sides, my pretty little dandelion flower. That you've been running the rooftops and searching the sewers with our intrepid young man from the Covenant of St. George, and that perhaps--just perhaps--your motives can't be trusted." Verity's snort said bullshit louder than any words could, and Dave pressed on. "Let me guess," he continued silkily. " 'You were the one who didn't tell us he was in town, remember?' " His impression of Verity was actually quite good. Better than it should have been for a man his size, but that was part of the bogeyman gig. " 'I didn't invite him here, and you didn't send out the bulletin on his location until after he'd already caught me.' Or something like that, hmmm?" he continued in his own voice. "But I'm not the one who brought him to the home of an innocent family of Madhura. What would your mother say?" His voice hadn't moved once while he was speaking, but he was suddenly in front of her, gray-skinned face leering from the border of the blackness. It was a classic bogeyman trick; while they couldn't actually teleport or anything like that, they could control where their voices come from and how they sounded to a degree that any human ventriloquist would kill for.
Verity	Verity had learned about the kind of crap bogeymen like to pull when she was still in elementary school. She should have been braced. But Dave, for all his asshole tendencies, had never done anything like that before, and she wasn't prepared. She jumped, taking a quick step backward and almost falling over her own feet in the process. "Enough," she said flatly. "Are you done being a dick? I need to talk to you about legitimate concerns, not this bullshit fantasy you're concocting."
Dave	"But you're such a source of amusement." Dave's face vanished back into the shadows. A few seconds later the darks clicked off, filling the tiny office with dusty light. Dave was seated behind his desk, looking for all the world like he hadn't moved in days. His sunglasses were even in place. "Come in, Verity. Tell me what's so important that you had to barge in here at the busiest time of night."
Verity	"Carol's been attacked," Verity informed him.
Dave	It was hard to tell if Dave's expression changed at all. His tone certainly hadn't. "Is that why she didn’t come in this evening? I was wondering. Was it a mugging, or a home invasion?"
Verity	"Home invasion by snake cult, actually." Verity slapped a hand down flat on his desk. "Cryptid girls have been disappearing all over this city--" "I know." "--and I know you know about it, because you...wait, what did you say?"
Dave	"I said I know. Given that you just accused me of exactly that, I don't understand quite why you look so surprised." Dave settled back in his chair. "Whatever's been going on hasn't been involving my staff, so I haven't really seen the need to concern myself with it."
Verity	"Did you not once think that I might have wanted to know?"
Dave	"Did you not once think that I might believe you were behind it?"
Verity	Verity stopped, gaping at him. "You're not serious."
Dave	"True enough, I'm not, but you should see the look on your face right now." Dave shook his head, wide bogeyman grin growing wider. "You don't pay me for that level of information, Verity. You could have come to me at any point and offered an exchange. Money, gossip, you dancing on my stage, I would have taken any of those. You never offered, and so neither did I."
Verity	"You knew I was looking into the disappearances."
Dave	"Yes, and I also knew that you were laying traps for the Covenant boy, but you didn't feel the need to keep me updated on your progress, now, did you?" Scowling now, Dave leaned forward and drummed his simian fingers against the desk. "You can't go through life expecting something for nothing, whether or not you believe that you’re on the 'right side.' The right side is the one that pays for the tools it needs."
Verity	The urge to punch him in the nose warred with the urge to punch herself. Verity had known he was a bogeyman when she started looking into this, and much as she hated to think it, he was at least partially right. The first question any bogeyman asks when you ask him for help is "What's in it for me?" "Fine," Verity said, after taking a deep breath. "You want to trade information?"
Dave	"Why, my dear Verity," he said, scowl turning into an expression of predatory anticipation. "I was starting to think you'd never ask."

Verity	Verity got a lot of confirmation from Dave, but no new information. That was disappointing, but she was at least able to parlay that into Dave closing down for the night and a promise to 'discuss' staying shut down for the rest of the week. Any longer than that and Dave flat-out refused to consider it, saying he wasn't going to go bankrupt for a stupid snake cult, even a stupid snake cult with a dragon. True to his word, Dave pulled the fire alarm about five minutes after she reached the floor, sending the sirens wailing through the building. It was loud even before the DJ killed the sound system, and then it became practically deafening. The female members of the wait staff began pouring into the dressing room. Even with the fire alarm screaming bloody murder in the background, they mobbed the mirror, taking their time fixing their makeup, adjusting their assets, and, of course, bitching loudly about the sudden closure robbing them of half a shift's tips. Several glared at her while they gossiped, making it clear that they'd noticed how her visit to the manager ended conveniently right before the alarm went off. Verity looked calmly back, making no effort to defend herself--or to hide the various weapons 'concealed' under her street clothes. One by one, the waitresses looked away, and their preparations for departure got a lot faster after that. None of them had the guts to accuse her to her face, possibly out of fear that doing so would get their actual guts an introduction to the floor. Verity ducked her head, trying not to think about what that meant. Dave was right. She'd been seen too frequently with Dominic, and people were starting to question her loyalties.
Candy	The last of the waitresses teemed out of the room, moving in a cloud of hairspray, sticky glitter, and cheap perfume. A locker slammed. Verity looked up again, only to find Candy glaring at her much more openly than any of the others had dared. "I hope you realize that I was planning to get paid tonight," she snarled.
Verity	"The snake cult went for Carol," Verity replied, too annoyed by the accusation in her tone to sugarcoat things. Candy recoiled, looking like she'd been slapped. "Unless you think your tips are more important than the lives of your coworkers, I suggest you drop the attitude."
Istas	"What is a 'snake cult'?" asked Istas, stepping around the bank of lockers. Waheela can move very quietly when they want to; Verity hadn't even realized she was there. "A species of religious serpents pulled the fire alarm?" Waheela were solitary creatures, coming into the company of others only when they absolutely had to, for things like reproduction and paying the cable bill. Verity had never been able to figure out what evolutionary advantage they got from being able to turn into humanoid bipeds, since their default big-ass wolf-bear shapes--or, as most cryptozoologists like to call them, 'please God don't eat me"--were a lot better suited to their natural habitat in Northern Canada. In her human form, Istas was a cute and curvy Inuit girl with slightly too-sharp teeth and a tendency to talk to people's jugulars. While dressing in the height of Gothic lolita fashion, because why not?
Verity	The look of honest puzzlement on Istas' face was enough to make Verity crack a smile. "A snake cult is a bunch of idiots who think worshiping a snake god will get them unbelievable cosmic power, wealth beyond their wildest dreams, and all the chicks they could want."
Istas	"Ah." Istas nodded, opening her own locker. "Then they are responsible for the ones who have gone missing." Their tendency to speak slowly and not understand social mores made people often discount waheela intelligence. They generally regretted that for however many more minutes their lives lasted. Istas dressed with admirable speed, navigating the various buttons and snaps with an ease that appeared to impress even Candy. "Will there be rending and destruction in the name of protecting the territory?"
Candy	"I'm coming with you," Candy said with extreme reluctance. Dragon princesses weren't really made for rending or destruction, but they were no worse at it than a human would be. "If I don't, Betty will have my head. I'm not working, thanks to you, so I need to be doing something with my time."
Istas	"Ah. I will accompany you, then." Istas produced a ruffled lace parasol from her locker before swinging the door closed. She didn't bother to lock it. No one in their right mind would steal from a waheela. "I would like to see some dead bodies. I find them pleasurable."
Verity	Candy and Verity exchanged a look, for once united by their sheer bafflement. Cryptozoologists knew a lot about the biology and anatomy of the waheela. Their social behaviors, likes, and dislikes...not so much. "Fine," she said. "We could use you, in case the whole 'rending and destruction' thing comes up." Which, with snake cults, it probably would. If they were smart enough to stop just because somebody asked them too, they probably hadn't lasted past their first victim. The alarm stopped shrieking just as Istas and Candy finished changing into their street clothes. The women stepped out into the main club, which looked even more like a deserted sideshow tent when there was no one in it. The British flags hanging from the walls were limp and listless without the air-conditioning to keep them moving, and the smells of sweat and alcohol were masked by a layer of hastily-applied bleach. Dave was closing for the night, if not for the week. That was a start. "Liam and Ryan are hopefully coming back after they get Carol to a safe house, and I want to bring them along."
Istas	Istas stiffened, a low growl rumbling from her throat before she said, "Something is not right here." She popped open her parasol, twirling it in agitation. "Something is not right here," she repeated. Her canines were more pronounced than they'd been in the dressing room. "The bleach. This is not the brand Dave buys. This is cheaper, made to stink rather than clean. Everyone is gone. We should not be here."
Verity	Only an idiot would argue with waheela instincts. Something might not be wrong, but things definitely weren't right. "Crap." Verity turned. "Come on. Let's get back to the dressing room." From there, they'd have a clear shot on both the rooftop and cellar exits, in case Istas was right about something being wrong.
Unwelcome Visitors	Candy nodded quickly, and spun to power walk toward the hallway door. The speed at which she was moving was the only thing that saved her. A servitor flowed out of the shadows surrounding one of the darkened stripper platforms, a lead pipe grasped firmly in its tail. Istas snarled, the sound conveying more shock than fear. Then the servitor's tail lashed forward, the pipe catching her in the jaw, and the waheela went down in a crumpled, incongruously lacy heap. Candy screamed. Eight more servitors flowed out of the shadows between her and Verity, hissing through bared teeth.
Verity	Verity started moving before the servitors could stop posturing and charge, running for the nearest stage as she shouted, "Candy! Tell them to stand down!"
Candy	Candy nodded and hissed out something in the sibilant language she'd used when in the sewers. The servitors ignored her, moving to form a sort of wedge before advancing toward Verity. She stomped her foot and tried again, louder, the note of command unmistakable in her voice. That got a reaction. The nearest of the servitors whipped around to face her, and snarled, tail lashing in her direction. Candy stepped quickly backward, eyes going wide in her suddenly-pale face. "It's not working, Verity!" she said in a panic.
Verity	Verity jumped up onto the stage, pulling a throwing knife from inside her shirt. She flung it at the lead servitor--who caught the knife with the tip of its tail and flung it back. With a very professional, totally badass noise that definitely wasn't a squeal, Verity ducked, hearing the blade whistle over her head on its way to embed itself in the far wall. Oh, this was so not good.
Oh Shit	The lead servitor leaped onto the table nearest the stage, grabbing a chair with its tail and whipping it twice over its head before launching it in Verity's direction. She grabbed the pole and went into a one-woman deadfall, hooking an ankle around the pole's base to keep from toppling off the stage. The chair hit the wall just below the throwing knife. The servitor hissed in frustration, and then again in pain when she lashed out with one foot, catching it squarely in the kneecap.
Verity	Of the nine servitors in sight, seven were focusing on Verity, and two of them seemed intent on harrying Candy, who clearly had no idea how to deal with this. Istas still wasn't moving. The odds were so far from in their favor that it wasn’t even funny. She'd dealt with lousy odds before. Taking advantage of the closest servitor's preoccupation with its bruised knee, Verity straightened up, yanked her iPod out of her backpack, and flung it overhand at Candy. Years of waiting tables had left her with the kind of reflexes many gymnasts would envy; she caught the flying MP3 player one-handed, shooting me a quizzical look. "Sound system!" she shouted. "Track four!"
Takes A Lickin'	The closest servitor seemed to be over his injury, because he lunged for her, taloned hands extended. Verity grabbed the pole again and dropped back into a bend, kicking forward at the same time. The side of her foot caught him in the chin with substantially more force than would have been possible in an unassisted kick. He dropped like a rock. That would teach him to go fucking with a trained ballroom dancer in a strip club.
Candy	"Then what?" shouted Candy, punctuating the question with a startled squeal. Verity stole a glance in her direction. She was running ahead of the servitors, eyes still huge and frightened. Dragon princesses had no natural weapons, and only one real natural defense: they were completely fireproof. Candy stumbled up onto the DJ platform, the two servitors following behind her with the lazy grace of an apex predator. She wasn't fighting back; she was just running. There was no real reason for them to hurry.
Verity	The seven servitors still 'assigned' to Verity had clustered together again, and they looked pissed. Candy wasn't fighting, but Verity was apparently fighting substantially more than they wanted her to. Tough titty. Verity vaulted onto the bar, grabbing a bottle of the cheap-ass house vodka. "How's that music coming, Candy?" In response, the speakers crackled on, hissing static white noise. Half a second later, the opening drone of the Tamperer's Hammer to the Heart blasted into the room. "Great! Catch!" She flung the vodka across to her as hard as she could, praying that the cap would stay on, and that she was still close enough to have any accuracy. Someone was listening, maybe for the only time that night, because the bottle spun end over end to smack into Candy's hand like the game-winning ball at the end of the ninth inning. "Now set yourself on fire!"
Candy	Her eyes went enormously wide. "What?!"
Verity	"Set yourself on fire!" Verity grabbed two more bottles of vodka, flinging them heedlessly at the lead servitors. They batted the bottles aside, but that didn't matter; taking the time to block had slowed them down, and that was all she really wanted. "They started human, remember?"
Candy	Candy's eyes remained wide, but the look in them was comprehension, not confusion. Dragon princesses were fireproof and it was possible that dragon servitors were, too...but humans weren't, and these servitors started life as humans. They were likely to be afraid of fire on general principles, even if it couldn't actually hurt them. Unscrewing the bottle, Candy emptied its contents over her head. Her two servitors started moving faster, apparently realizing that something was up, but it was too late. She produced a lighter from her pocket and hit the flint, sending a line of blue flame racing up her hand to her arm to her hair, until she finally went up like a Christmas candle. The servitors fell back, hissing furiously. Even Verity's seven whipped around to face her, snarling and hissing with disbelief. She said something in their tongue again, voice triumphant.
Verity	The music was blasting, the beat thrumming through the bar and into the soles of Verity's feet. Dave always did want her to dance in his club. Grabbing the gun from her waistband, she launched herself off the bar again, and ran for the servitors. They weren't expecting that. They also weren't expecting her to swerve off at the last minute, shooting enthusiastically but without particular concern for aim as she ran for the nearest stage. Four of them broke off and chased after her, while the other three hung back, hissing in confusion. They must have been the smart ones. Fights always had a rhythm to them; usually they were set by the participants. But once they found that rhythm, it was hard to get out of it. This one had been set by the music Verity had chosen and she fell into it easily. By the time the four chasing servitors had made their way to the stage, they had unconsciously started moving to the beat as well. Good.
But They Keep On Tickin	The first pair of servitors crowded up against the stage, one of them swinging a two-by-four at Verity's calves. She grabbed the pole and spun herself out of reach, shooting it in the tail. It hissed and dropped the weapon, but didn't fall back as its companion grabbed a chair and slung it in her direction.
Verity	Both servitors were moving, however unconsciously, with the beat of the music. Verity stopped spinning and leaned out to give them her best tango smile, one hand still clasping the pole. "Hey, boys," she said coquettishly. She wasn't even sure they'd originally been male, but regardless of gender, her behavior needed to be odd enough to throw them off their game. "You want to dance?" The servitors looked puzzled. Then, snarling, they charged. Verity grabbed the pole, dropping back and aiming squarely at the lead servitor's chest as she shouted, "Candy, track seven!"
Dance?!?!	The music changed abruptly, replacing the Tamperer with the high-speed frenzy of Hey Ya! by Outkast. The servitors kept charging--but they were off-balance now, thrown out of their comfort zone by the sudden change in the beat. Verity unloaded two bullets into the lead servitor's chest, dropping him, and swung herself hard around to slam her elbow into the second servitor's throat. He fell back, choking, and was promptly replaced by two more healthy lizard-men, both bent on ripping her to pieces.
Candy	Another call from Verity had Candy swapping to another track. She was still burning brightly, her two harrying servitors hanging back and hissing at her. Dragon princesses might not be able to create or control flame, but they could encourage it to last longer than it should have. She’d been burning long enough that the vodka should definitely have been gone. The flames didn't seem to mind the absence of an accelerant. They were perfectly content to leap and dance around her, consuming her clothing, and showing no signs of either dying out or spreading to the rest of the club. "You sure you know what you're doing?!" she called out.
Verity	"I'm a Price" Verity shouted back. "Improvising is what we do!" She vaulted over Istas as she made her way across the room, not pausing to see whether the waheela was breathing. With no backup in the building and no clear escape route that would work for all three of them, Verity just had to keep fighting until Istas either woke up or the fight was over, one way or the other. Verity stopped halfway up the flag, wrapping one leg tight around the cloth and dangling like she was planning to audition for the next Cirque de Soleil show. She didn't even wait to be certain that she was secure before pulling the revolvers from under her shirt and started firing into the swarm of servitors. The thunderous echoes of the gunshots blended with the relentless cheer of the blaring pop music, making it sound like some sort of really badly thought-out remix.
Another One Bites The Dust	Two servitors went down hard. That would have been a lucky shift the odds for Verity, if not for the two who'd been circling Candy suddenly deciding that she was a much more dangerous target. They turned from the dragon princess to join the larger pack, leaving Verity with fewer bullets and just as many targets in need of gunning down. Two gunshots went off and a third servitor fell. The one who'd been kicked in the throat picked himself up off the ground and ran to join the fight.
Verity	"Fuck," Verity muttered, and took aim. This was looking bad. "Candy! Track two!" Aqua cut out, replaced by P!nk. If she was going to get ripped apart, at least she wouldn't need to be embarrassed by the song she used for my last dance. "Now get out of here! Run!" It was hard to make out any expression on her face, veiled as it was by the crackling flames. Still, Verity thought she saw Candy nod before turning and fleeing for the hallway door, leaving her with the charging servitors and the screaming wail of electric guitars. "All right, you motherfucking lizards," she snarled. "Let's dance." She opened fire. They charged.
Istas	The thing about waheela was that they were like the Timex watch of subarctic cryptids: they could take a licking and keep on ticking. Right about the time the remaining servitors reached the wall, driving Verity farther up the flag as they grabbed for her ankles with their whipcord tails, Istas sat up. First she rubbed her jaw. Then she looked around the room, clearly bewildered. And then she saw her parasol, which had not only fallen to the floor when she did, but had landed in the path of several servitors. The lace was ripped. A large footprint marred its previously pristine surface. Istas, seeing her property treated with such an obvious lack of respect, began to growl. And then she unbuttoned her shoes.
Verity	It was almost possible to feel sorry for the servitors after that. Sure, they were creepy lizard-men trying to kill her, but they weren't doing it voluntarily. They were men when all this craziness started—and as men, they probably never even heard of waheela, much less learned what a bad idea it was to piss one off. All the nascent pity still wasn't enough to keep Verity from shooting one in the shoulder, and another in the tail.
Istas	Then Istas stood up, balancing on the toes of her feet, and roared. It wasn't a sound that should ever come from a human throat, which made sense, since Istas didn't technically have a human throat anymore. What she had was a neck that was rapidly swelling like an inner tube as her musculature tripled in mass and density. Sort of like the Incredible Hulk if Bruce Banner were a cocktail waitress instead of a rocket scientist. Several of the servitors whipped around to hiss at her. Istas roared again and then, while the echoes of her challenge were still ringing through the club, she charged. For the servitors, it must have seemed odd in the extreme when the cute little chick in the frilly maid uniform started running toward them, howling challenge all the way. It just got odder from there. By the second step she took, she had doubled in size, shredding her stockings and splitting the seams all up and down the sides of her cute little uniform. By the third step, her clothing was falling away like so much debris, but it didn't really matter, since her pelt was coming in, covering her body with a thick, protective layer of red-black hair. By the fourth step, she was only technically bipedal. The changes accelerated after that, as did Istas, and she slammed into the servitors in full animal form: a wolf the size of a grizzly bear, with a grizzly’s flexible paws and the furious mind of a pissed-off Gothic Lolita.
Lizard Meat	The servitors didn't stand a chance. Istas slapped two of them aside like they were bowling pins, and Verity dropped back to the floor, putting three bullets in the head of the last one standing. Istas pursued her two across the floor, hitting them every chance she got, until they went down and didn't get up again.
Verity	"I think they're dead," Verity said, breathing shallowly to keep from hyperventilating. One of the servitors closer to her twitched. She shot him twice in the spine. He stopped twitching. She amended, "I think they're dead now."
Istas	Istas growled deep in her throat, smacking a fallen servitor one last time before she turned to do a slow survey of the room. The hair along her shoulders and spine was standing on end, making her look even larger. As if she needed the help. She finished her circuit, snarled, and trotted over to Verity, claws audibly scratching the club floor.
Verity	"You okay?" Verity asked the still-terrifying waheela. Istas shot her what could only be called an amused look. "Sorry. Reflex. Come on; let's go find Candy. She's not safe here on her own."
Dave	"She's not on her own," said a voice from behind them.
Verity	Verity turned toward the hallway door, blinking in confusion. "Dave? I thought you left with the rest of the--oh, God, Dave, I am so sorry about the damages. In our defense, they were trying to kill us--wait, what?" she stopped talking as his words sank in. "Where's Candy?"
Dave	Dave looked awkwardly at the pair of them, his long-fingered hands tucked deep into the pockets of his cheap polyester slacks. "She's not alone," he said. "I really am sorry about this, Verity, but business is business, and you never would have danced for me anyway."
Verity	Verity took a step back, her hip brushing Istas’ shoulder. "Dave?" She said uncertainly.
Goddamnit Dave	"Good night, Miss Price." He pulled his hands from his pockets and blew their contents--a sparkly white powder that Verity recognized from the Tooth Fairy arsenal--in their direction. Verity and Istas were both unconscious before they hit the floor.