Inferno, a Latin word for Hell was the name of the nightclub in front of which the car pulled over by the sidewalk. Nicki could hear the muffled beats of the loud music coming from inside the building. She wasn’t sure they were at the right location until he killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Uhm, Father,…” she called his attention, a bit bewildered. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is a nightclub.”
He chuckled and replied,
“I’m aware, kid. We’re here.”
One look at her and he could tell just how bizarre the situation seemed to her. She must’ve thought the location of the witch would be like a dark forest or an ancient cave like some movies portrayed, not a place where young people came to have fun and get wasted. In those confused eyes, he saw the uncertainty of whether or not he would go in dressed like that; a black suit with a clerical collar, an attire that screamed Priest. How ironic would that be!
“All right, listen to me,” he said, removing his clerical collar before placing it on the dashboard. “When we go in there, let me do the talking and no matter what happens, do not interfere. Got it?”
She nodded in affirmation.
“Good. Let’s go.”
They got out of the car and walked to the entrance where they skipped a long queue of mostly indecently dressed youths trying to get inside.
“To the back of the line, both of ya.” The heavily built bouncer they approached ordered, with a thick voice and a Scottish accent that was almost impossible to understand. Nicki only understood him because of the hostility in his utterance, the way he pointed backward demonstrating his previous speech, plus the fact that they just skipped a queue. Francis showed him a card and he immediately apologized and then granted them access.
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She wondered what the card meant but whatever it was, it sure ignited a load of respect in that Scottish bouncer. Was it some kind of special invitation or what? She dispelled the thought as soon as they were inside.
Colourful beams were crisscrossing the lively dark environment as a massive crowd danced to the rhythm of the DJ mix playing loudly. It was a large space but the number of people in there made the place look small. One couldn’t conveniently take so much as a step back or forth without nudging or hitting somebody. It was a place people smoked freely, and got drunk on alcohol, cocaine, and other hard drugs. There was a special section that looked like a VIP lounge. It had strippers pole dancing for a particular set of men Nicki recognized to be married politicians, men in high places in society, and the government.
They sprayed money on those naked dancers with millions of dollars worth of drinks at their table. The city’s money, wasting in the hands of those dogs. Their laughs were infuriating and filled her with scorn. She knew a couple of them there whom society saw as eunuchs, as saints, people whose families were considered ‘responsible’ and were highly respected.
This was a place for cheating husbands, cheating wives and free-spirited youths who just wanted to enjoy their lives.
They left the heart of the club where the main event was red hot and ventured through a wide corridor enveloped by dim flickering lights. The further in they went, the more the music faded with the club noise gradually becoming indistinct. He opened the door at the end of the hallway and they entered a room where some weird-looking men were betting on games; Pool, Dominos, Cards, etc.
It looked like a casino, but it had to be some really low-budget casino, of course, Nicki would know that because her billionaire dad owned one.
Everyone stopped and turned to them as soon as they arrived. Voices fell silent until a big guy, almost as big as that Scottish bouncer came forward with five others, the same size as him.
“This is a private area. Who are you two fuckers and what’re you doing here?” he rudely asked, folding his arms across the chest that bulged out of his Tee shirt.
Francis ignored the foul word used to describe him and said politely, without fear. “I’m looking for Anita.”
The previous speaker gave a wry laugh that revealed his tattooed teeth. “You’ve got some balls, old man. I give you that.” He took a couple of steps further. “But don’t mess with me. I asked you a question; who- the heck- are you?” The latter words were spoken at intervals as he placed the barrel of his pistol under Francis’s chin.
“Wait a minute,” said a man from across the room. “I know you.” He got off the stool he was sitting on at a minibar and walked up to them.
“You know this punk?” asked the big guy.
“Yeah. He’s the priest at the church my mother attends.”
Nicki wanted to engage, to put those bloody bastards in their place but Francis’s instructions resounded quite audibly in her head so she trusted him and controlled her rage.
“Priest?” The big guy sniggered with wonder flickering in his gaze. “This ain’t no place for you,…Padre” came to the scornful addition.
“I’m not here to make any trouble so don’t push me, because if you do, God helps me you will regret it, all of you.” His voice was calm as a wolf’s growl with eyes burning like hellfire, his words were spoken slowly as though they were counted, one at a time. At that moment he did not wear the face of a Holy Man of God but that of something rather demonic. The words he spoke and how he spoke them sent a vivid message that he was not a man they wanted to mess with.
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The previous guy could not be humiliated in front of everyone so he decided to take control of the situation. However, before he would make any clear move, Francis threw a punch, aiming straight at his neck almost breaking his esophagus. The hurt from his throat was still intense when he heard the sound of his wrist breaking, forcing him to drop the gun. A second later, a heavy blow raised him a couple of feet in the air. He flew across the room and crashed on a table.
There was a brief moment of silence as glances were exchanged in awe and resentment. Knives were unsheathed and soon, the other guys attacked, throwing rapid advances all of which he deflected without stress.
Nicki grabbed a chair at the mini bar, ordered a glass of whiskey, and watched him take down five huge men on his own in a matter of seconds. He was the only one standing in the end, surrounded by his victims rolling on the floor, wounded and in severe pain, each grabbing at least one part of their bodies.
From a shadowy corner came three single claps, one after the other, accompanied by the sound of boots, or most probably heels clicking against the fine wooden floor. Francis looked in the direction of the person approaching and out of the shadows, she revealed herself.
“I see you’re still as tenacious as ever.” She halted a few paces before him, standing balanced to the side like a runway model in a sexy purple lady suit and a pair of black heels. The hat on her head matched the colour of her footwear and her lipstick, the colour of her suit.
She was a hot, dark-complexioned woman in her late forties, so beautiful, so elegant, she glowed. With such a look and a grand entrance, Nicki did not need an introduction to know who that was. The glamorous appearance gave her out.
“Ani.” Francis panted, nearly gawking at her, or perhaps it was only sheer admiration. Regardless though, he thought she looked amazing as always.
“Hello, Devlin.” She grinned sheepishly. “You look well.”
“And you look like you haven’t aged a day,” he said casually.
She was exactly the same hottie he used to know about thirty years ago, with no wrinkles, no gray hair, and nothing at all to show she was at least sixty years old, but then again he wasn’t surprised.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied with something Nicki thought resembled a blush.
Nicki’s gaze was constantly shifting across the two speakers, as though she was trying to figure them out wherefore in her guts, she felt like there was an old flame retardant between them given they each belonged to separate worlds.
“It was an observation,” he replied.
“Well then,…thank you.” Anita smiled, sketching a light bow like a glorified princess would when complimented by a charming prince.
She looked pathetically at the fight starters gravelling on the ground and ordered them out of her building.
Nicki walked up to where the old friends were standing and tried to introduce herself;
“Hi, my name is-”
“Nicki Wayne,” Ani called out gracefully, interrupting her in a warmly courteous manner.
Miss Wayne’s brows rose at the sound of her name on Ani’s lips. No one had ever said her name so enthusiastically before.
Ani’s high self-esteem, eloquence, and magnanimity blended with a sprinkle of casualty, a glimmer of temerity, a touch of chutzpah, a glamorous lifestyle, and a classy sense of fashion was a persona Nicki found intriguingly awesome.
“I know who you are, darling.” She shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
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Ani waltzed around like a pageant queen, basking in the graciousness of her own beauty. One thing was clear as crystal; she was a very proud woman. So proud of her gorgeousness and with the way she enjoyed every move she made whilst in a conversation- speaking so fluently without so much as a stutter- one could say she was in love with herself, swayed by her egregiously attractive body. “Tell me, Delvin. Why are you here? Surely, you didn’t come here after all these years just to check on me.”
“I need a favour.”
“You know how this works, Dev-”
“- You owe me,” came the interjection. “Or shall I joggle your memory in case you’ve forgotten?”
She closed her eyes and exhaled dilatorily, knowing it was time to pay her debt. Anita thought for a bit before finally giving in.
“Come with me. There’s something I need to take care of first.”
“Ani, we haven’t much time-”
“-It’ll only take a minute. Chill, Padre.”
She went close to him, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face then gave his nose a gentle tap upon her last statement. Ani led the way and they soon followed after Francis hesitated for a while.
Nicki pondered no further for why the question she’d been asking herself the moment Ani materialized received an answer. Francis explained to her why Ani referred to him as Delvin. She didn’t have to ask directly anyway, he saw the inquisition in her eyes. Turned out that Francis was his baptismal name, the name he chose when he finally became a Catholic priest. Delvin, on the other hand, happened to be his birth name, notwithstanding, it was only Ani who called him that, nobody else dared to for he preferred to be addressed as Francis.
“So can I call you Delvin,… Father Delvin?” Nicki asked teasingly and received a keen response as quickly as she spoke.
“No.”
“Lemme guess, the name is reserved for her.” She nodded at Ani leading them to a door.
Ani stopped before the door and turned to them for a while. “Brace yourselves,” she said and opened it.
They exchanged glances before joining her inside.
Story by Samuel Francis
The suspense, the intrigue…..
🔥. Netflix should read this
Or better still Zack Snyder or the Russo Brothers 😎😎😎
😂 thanks, bro