TheLycanthropeClub
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A Mythical Match Up - A Jubilant Jinn part II
🕑 Added 2022-06-03 08:04:22 +0000 UTCCallum gazed down at the scratched surface of the parking permit dispenser. Dull green LED letters spelling 'INSERT CARD' stared back at him expectantly. With an anxious sigh he slid his Visa into the thin slot at the base of the machine and waited. He glanced back at Cimnendi - or Cindi - the bubbly, curvaceous jinn-turned-human from the Realms of Shaltae. She was standing next to his somewhat worn but serviceable sedan staring up at the looming skyscrapers, each radiant with grid-like patterns of yellow and white light, and the star-speckled night sky with unbridled glee. Callum was certain she'd be taking selfies with her phone if she owned one.
The machine printed out a tiny parking permit, debiting his account a whopping fifteen dollars for the dubious privilege of parking in the tiny lot for the night. Callum took the permit and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. His card had an EMV chip, meaning the transaction was, in theory, encrypted and secure, but he knew enough about the realities of digital transactions to be nervous, particularly given how sketchy the parking lot looked.
"Come on!" called Cindi, waving her hand and jumping up and down.
"Yeah, yeah, give me a sec," said Callum, hurrying back to his car. He opened the door, carefully placed the tiny slip of paper on the dashboard, shut the door and locked the car. When he looked back up Cindi was already trotting out of the lot, her pink kitten heels clicking on the asphalt.
"Hang on!" protested Callum, jogging after her.
Despite having lived in the city for two decades, Callum never ventured downtown. Not out of any conscious dislike or apprehension but because he'd never had reason to. Nothing here interested him, apart from a few boutique electronics shops that, truth be told, didn't carry anything he couldn't procure online. So despite being Cindi's guide he felt quite disoriented. He gripped his phone in his pocket as though it were a protective fetish.
The pair emerged from the side-street onto a major thoroughfare. The sidewalks and lanes were crowded with pedestrians and cars. Though not exactly quiet it wasn't the unbearable din Callum feared it'd be. However, the lights, voices, smells, laughter, sounds and strangers were still far more than he was used to. He nervously scanned the crowd for any potential bums, beggars, pickpockets, thugs and other threats. Cindi, in contrast, appeared perfectly at ease. She waived at those passing by, grinning excitedly, and received a few odd looks in return. Callum groaned inwardly but didn't say anything.
"Ooh! Ooh! Is that it?" said Cindi suddenly, pointing.
Callum peered up over the bobbing sea of heads. He noticed a dense crowd clustered around a square-shaped building behind a row of stanchions. He side stepped to get a better view of the structure. A large sign on its facade read 'XZ' in bold black font against a colorful psychedelic abstract mural.
"Uh, yeah, this is the place," said Callum.
"Why did you say it was called 'XZ' again?" asked Cindi.
"I didn't," said Callum distractedly. "I think it has something to do with...sex chromosomes?"
"Sex chromosomes?"
"Uh, never mind," said Callum, blushing. "Club names don't make-"
"But human biological sex is determined by the XY chromosome system where a Y chromosome results in a male while two X chromosomes result in a female," interrupted Cindi. "Some creatures use a ZW or even an X0 system but there's no such thing as an XZ system, silly!"
Callum did a double-take. "Wait, what?"
"Huh?" said Cindi.
"How do you...how do you know about chromosomes?" said Callum, taken aback. "You're, like, from a fantasy world with dragons and castles."
"Chromosomes? What's a chromosome?"
Callum stared at her innocent, inquiring face for a time, and then gave up.
"Never mind," he sighed.
This was going to be a long night.
It took some time to locate the end of the line despite the stanchions as a smaller, secondary crowd had formed around the line like a cocoon. Callum looked around nervously. He felt very much out of place surrounded by younger, better-dressed, fitter and, if he got right down to it, better-looking examples of the homo sapiens species. A bewildering and somewhat nauseating array of fragrances, aftershaves, shampoos, perfumes and body-sprays wafted in the air. No one paid much attention to him. Cindi, however, attracted quite a few eyes from both sexes; and, in one instance, provoked a woman to elbow her presumed boyfriend after the latter spent one too many seconds staring at Cindi's prodigious chest.
Around fifteen minutes later, the line had moved exactly two feet.
"This is taking too loooooong," groaned Cindi. "Why is there even a line?"
"I don't know what to tell you," said Callum, shrugging. "I figured it'd be quieter on a Thursday night but I guess not."
"But why can't they just let everyone inside right away?"
"Fire codes, probably," said Callum.
"Huh?"
"Too many people in one building would be impossible to evacuate if a fire broke out." He paused, vaguely recalling an online article he had read years ago out of sheer boredom. "...I also heard some clubs purposely keep lines long like this so they look busier and more popular than they are. Some clubs hire people just to stand in line."
"Whaaat?" said Cindi. "That's soooo deceptive." She grinned. "I love it!"
She leaned forward and peered around the crowd.
"Still, I don't want to spend all night standing out here."
"Haven't you've been to clubs before?" said Callum. "I remember reading that in your profile."
Cindi blinked.
"Oh, right!" she exclaimed brightly. "I know how to get us inside," she continued. "Come on!"
Before the latter could protest, Cindi pulled Callum from the line and, still holding his hand, wove through the surrounding crowd and approached the entrance from the opposite side. Callum didn't resist, partly out of shock and partly because her grip proved surprisingly firm.
A pair of bouncers stood nearly shoulder to shoulder a few feet from the threshold. They were, unsurprisingly, tall and heavily built, sporting arms and forearms as thick as young trees. In defiance of convention, however, they wore colorful faux-silk jackets rather than featureless black T-shirts and no sunglasses. A group of well-dressed twenty-somethings in front of the line stood a respectful distance from the two men, waiting to be admitted. A few hopefuls lingered on the opposite side of the stanchions, one pleading with the bouncers to let him skip the line.
Cindi released Callum and trotted up to the bouncers with the air of a puppy about to leap onto someone's lap.
"Hiiii!" she said, waving.
The nearest bouncer actually turned his head and looked at her. He saw a black-haired beauty encased in a strapless, tight-fitting yellow satin dress, her skin a flawless limestone-brown, her curves ample bordering on pornographic, her lips plump and inviting, her eyes sparkling sapphires.
"Soooooo...I'm only in town for the night," said Cindi, tucking her hands behind her back. "I was wondering if we could just, y'know, slip inside?"
The bouncer stared at her for a few seconds and then replied - something he rarely bothered doing.
"Sorry, ma'am. Gotta wait at the back like everyone else."
Callum crept up behind Cindi and nodded apologetically at the bouncer. "Uh, sorry about her, sir," he said. "She's, uh, not from around here."
Ignoring him, Cindi took a few steps forward and peered around the bouncers into the shadowy interior of the club. Deep, repetitive music could be heard coming from within.
"You suuuure you couldn't just, you know, squeeze us in?" she asked, scrunching her shoulders together and leaning even further forward.
The bouncer shook his head.
"Awww, that's too-..." Cindi paused as her gaze drifted downward"...Huh?"
"What?" said the bouncer.
"I think I dropped something..." She murmured. "Ah! There it is!" she exclaimed, pointing.
The bouncer (and Callum) looked down and spied a small shiny object on the ground near the door. Upon closer inspection it proved to be a small gold bangle or possibly a large hoop earring.
"You mind picking it up, cutie?" she asked sweetly. "I know I'm not supposed go past the, uh, rope," she added, tapping the stanchion.
The bouncer lip curled into a sneer. Callum gulped. Though not exactly brimming with social intelligence, Callum knew what it was like when irritations started to pile up while performing a difficult job. Then, somewhat to his surprise, the bouncer stepped forward, reached down, plucked the jewelry off the pavement and proffered it to Cindi.
"Thanks!" said Cindi, accepting the trinket.
As their hands touched, a confused look came upon the bouncers face.
Callum noticed this and suddenly remembered that the buxom, bubbly girl he had taken out on the town was in fact a magical entity from another dimension and apparently capable of granting wishes. And had a very low opinion of rules.
"What are you doing to him?" he hissed angrily into her ear. "Are you messing with hi-"
"Whoa!"
It had been the bouncer who had spoken. The man was holding a one-hundred dollar bill and grinning ear-to-ear.
"How'd you...I didn't even...it's like it just appeared in my hand," he exclaimed, chuckling. He waived the bill in the air. "You some kind of magician, girl?"
Cindi smiled impishly.
"Your comrade might want to check his vest pocket," she added, pointing at the other bouncer.
The second bouncer gave her a curious look. He slowly reached into his pocket. His expression rapidly turned to one of shock and then one of wonder as he pulled a crisp one-hundred dollar bill from his jacket.
"That's just...wow!" gasped the second bouncer.
Some of the people in the line who had been close enough to watch the show applauded. Cindi gave a little bow.
"You know what?" said the second bouncer, slipping the bill back into his pocket. "A performance like that deserves a little VIP treatment. Right, Lamar?"
"Yep," said the first bouncer, already unhooking the dividing rope. "Head on in." He hesitated. "But, uh, any wallets or phones or watches go missing tonight, you're the first one we're going to talk to. Got it?"
"Sure!" said Cindi happily, already sidling past the muscular guard. Would-be guests standing in and outside the line groaned in protest as she made her way into the club.
Callum watched all of this unfold, mouth agape. It eventually occurred to him he was supposed to follow her. He took a few steps forward and nearly collided with the bouncer.
"Back of the line," said the bouncer, gesturing with his thumb.
"What? Bu-"
"Back. Of. The line," repeated the bouncer testily.
Callum stared at him incredulously.
"Seriously?" he asked. If nothing else, he was offended by just how clichéd the situation was.
The bouncer looked at him as though he were a particularly disgusting species of cockroach that had scuttled out into the open. Callum swallowed and automatically started backing away. Then, Cindi popped her head out of the club door.
"Hey! Come on, cutie!" she called.
The two bouncers glanced back at her. Callum smiled humorlessly at her and pointed meaningfully at the obstructing doormen with both hands.
"He's with me!" said Cindi.
The bouncer standing in Callum's way turned and looked him up and down. Callum had dusted off a black short-sleeve collared shirt he usually held in reserve for job interviews. He'd also exchanged his faded grey weekend sweatpants for one of his better dress pants and donned a leather belt relatively free of scratches and stretch marks. Still, he wasn't a particularly imposing or impressive figure.
"Come onnnn! What's taking so long?" called Cindi impatiently.
The bouncer looked at her and then back at Callum. He rolled his head from side-to-side, lips pursed in thought. Then, he made his decision. He stepped aside and motioned for Callum to enter. Callum smiled wanly, nodded in thanks, and stepped past the burly pair. Once again, the surrounding crowd made their displeasure abundantly clear as yet another was permitted to skip the line.
"Tres bon!" squeed Cindi as Callum approached her. She wrapped her arm around his. "I can't wait to see what this chromosome sex club is like!"
Callum's face turned red. It turned even redder as they proceeded as Cindi had absolutely no respect for personal space, frequently rubbing against him as they walked.
The pounding bass notes grew louder and deeper. Ahead, the dull, stygian gloom of the unlit passageway gave way to a cavernous chamber easily two stories high and as wide as a small warehouse that was somehow both dim and bright, illuminated by myriad blue and violet neon lights and lasers. Perhaps a hundred or so shadowy figures could be seen inside dancing, standing or talking. The far walls were covered in flats-screens displaying hypnotic, scintillating patterns of colors that, through some trick of optics, did not emit much light themselves. Most of the space was occupied by a gigantic dance floor and a U-shaped DJ table. A wide bar stood in the back.
Callum looked around. It was weirdly cool here despite the multitude of warm bodies.
"Wonderful!" said Cindi gleefully, clapping her hands. "None of the dancehalls, ballrooms, festivals or carnivals in the Realms can compete with yours - so much noise, vigor and novelty!"
"Uh, thanks," said Callum.
"First, some libations to loosen hearts and tongues," said Cindi. "Then, the dance floor!"
"Okay-AAH!" cried Callum as Cindi dragged him into the club.
A clean-shaven man with immaculately coiffed black hair and a black collared shirt nodded at them from behind the bar as they approached. Behind him stood a vast collection of liquors, liqueurs, whiskies, rums, juices, spirits, fruits, mixes, and sauces. They glittered like jewels in the chaotic light of the club.
"Uh, rum and coke on the rocks, please," ordered Callum.
"And the lady?" asked the bartender.
"So many choices," crooned Cinid, gazing up at the bottles. Suddenly, she pointed at one. "I'll take that one."
"That one?" said the bartender. He looked where she was pointing. "That's, uh, grenadine, miss."
"Oooh! How mysterious! I'll take it."
"You can't drink grenadine by itself," said Callum. "It's not even alcoholic."
"Fine," said Cindi, pouting. She pointed at another bottle, seemingly at random. "That one, then."
Both the bartender and Callum looked at the vessel she had selected.
"That's bitters, miss," said the bartender, stifling a chuckle.
"You do not want to drink pure bitters," said Callum, shuddering. He'd done so on a bet back in college and had deeply regretted it.
Cindi rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll take a Ramos Gin Fizz."
"What?" said Callum.
"Huh?" said the bartender.
"Ramos Gin Fizz," repeated Cindi. "Gin, lime juice, lemon juice, syrup, cream orange flower water, one egg white, and seltzer. Shake dry for fifteen seconds, add ice, and shake for another twenty. Easy peasy."
The bartender blinked and then, his credit, quickly regained his composure. "I'll get right on it, miss," he said with a nod.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" probed Callum as the bartender busied himself with their orders.
"Doing what?" said Cindi.
Callum gestured vaguely in the air.
"This whole thing...with the chromosomes and...never mind," he sighed, wilting under her eyes.
Cindi giggled and pushed him playfully.
"So serious surrounded by such wonders!" she said. "You really did need this."
"Fine...wait, what?"
A minute or so later the bartender passed them two glasses - one squat and filled with a sparkling brown liquid and ice, the other tall, filled with a whitish-yellow libation with the consistency of a slushy.
"How much?" asked Callum.
The bartender told him. Callum grimaced.
"Er," he looked at Cindi, who was already a quarter through her drink. "Fine," he said miserably, reaching for his wallet.
"Say, uh, where did you get those hundreds?" said Callum, addressing Cindi as the bartender scanned his credit card.
"Mmm?" said Cindi as she wiped her mouth.
"Bills. Currency," said Callum. "The things you gave to the bouncers. I mean, I'm guessing the, uh, Realms of Shaltae aren't exactly on the US dollar standard-"
"Oh, those. They weren't real," said Cindi cheerfully.
"What?"
"They'll turn to dust come the morning sun."
"You tricked them?" exclaimed Callum, more loudly than he had intended. He looked around, embarrassed. "You tricked them?" he repeated, quieter this time.
"I didn't trick anyone," said Cindi, sounding almost offended. "I simply thought they'd be more amiable if I entertained them with magic. You humans don't have any. So sad!"
"Oh, come on, you had to have known that-"
Cindi lunged across the bar and kissed Callum - briefly, but intensely - on the lips. Callum's eyes bulged. He reared back and gasped for breath as though he had been choked.
"I couldn't resist!" chuckled Cindi, covering her mouth with her hand.
Callum shivered - not from disgust or fear. Her lips had been as moist, plush and sweet as a freshly sliced peach. Face red, heart pounding, Callum reached for his drink and took a swig, coughing as the acerbic concoction of sugar, spice and alcohol trickled down his throat.
"That's the spirit!" said Cindi, who then drained a good quarter of her own cocktail.
What followed should have been a blur. But it proved nothing of the sort. Later, Callum would recall every drink he ordered, every song the DJ played and the order in which she played them; the frigid, the slick surface of the glasses in his hand, the strange, gritty texture of the coasters on the bar and the grin that flashed briefly on the bartender's face when Cindi kissed him a second time. At some juncture, Callum realized he was buzzed verging on tipsy and ordered a glass of water. He caught Cindi pouring some of her own, highly alcoholic beverage into his water. He chided her and drank it anyways. Then he ordered another rum and coke.
"Let's dance!" cried Cindi suddenly, pulling him from the bar.
The pair maneuvered between a press of gyrating bodies. Cindi immediately broke into an astonishingly fluid and complicated routine that was half belly-dance, half hip-hop freestyle - replete with glides, contortions, hip-shaking and locking - that Callum didn't dare attempt follow. Instead, he shuffled back and forth vaguely in rhythm to the beat.
"Haven't you danced before?" laughed Cindi, still dancing.
"Honestly? Not really," admitted Callum.
"At least move your shoulders!" said Cindi. "And keep your eyes up."
"Uh, okay!"
Her advice proved surprisingly helpful. Though hardly graceful, he eventually felt as though he were actually dancing rather than doing a bad impression of someone suffering from a slow-motion seizure. A small crowd started forming around the pair. Callum held no illusions they were watching him (unless amused by his amateurish capering). Cindi's moves were smooth, sensual, exotic, elaborate yet seemingly effortless on her part. Her flawless limestone skin and golden satin dress shimmered under the kaleidoscopic barrage of lasers, strobe lights and twisting hypnotic patterns projected by the screens mounted on the walls, transforming her into a radiant avatar of light, shadow, motion and form. The music intensified. Cindi began spinning in place like a whirling dervish. The crowd cheered and whistled. As the song reached a crescendo she leapt, forming a perfect split midair before landing, whereupon she thrust her hips forward, head tilted back, hands on her neck, posing. The music went silent.
The surrounding crowd erupted in applause. Those in the club who hadn't been watching Cindi turned to see what the fuss was all about.
"Incredible!" breathed Callum, who had stopped dancing almost a minute ago.
Cindi giggled. "Thanks, cutie," she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.
Callum wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. It occurred to him he had just gotten more cardiovascular exercise than he had in over a month. As his pulse decelerated, another physiological reality became apparent.
"I, uh, gotta hit the bathroom," he said apologetically. "Be right back."
"Don't keep me waiting," said Cindi, winking.
The DJ had started playing another song, forcing Callum to dodge the occasional flailing limb as he made his way through the crowd. Upon reaching the periphery of the dance floor he looked around quizzically. He could see very little through the glare of the lights and the haze of the fog machine. Pressure growing in his bladder, Callum turned to a group of overdressed young men.
"Do you know where the bathrooms are?" he asked, half-shouting to be heard over the noise
Two of them looked up at him from the glow of their phones. One of them chuckled. None of them actually replied. Callum suspected at least half of them were high.
"Come on, man," said Callum wearily.
After a few seconds one of them pointed to the southeast corner. "Over there," he said.
"Thanks."
Callum circled around the dance floor. Eventually he spied an alcove where the patron had pointed. He hurried inside and turned right, prompted by a bathroom sign hanging on the wall. Sure enough, a long line of urinals, sinks and stalls awaited him. Though slightly brighter than the rest of the club, the combination of black faux-marble walls and dull purple lighting gave the room an eerie, otherworldly quality. It smelled much like any other men's bathroom, albeit with a higher cologne-to-urine ratio. It was surprisingly uncrowded.
After finishing his business, Callum walked up to one of the sinks and washed his hands. He then stared at himself in the mirror.
"Wow!" he breathed, shaking his head, chuckling.
He felt surprisingly good. In fact, he really couldn't remember the last time he felt this alive, clichéd as it sounded. He wondered just how far Cindi wanted to take this and if she had been serious about granting him a wish at the end of the night. A naughty possibility - buoyed by the alcohol he'd imbibed - entered his mind. He broke into a lecherous grin.
Then, a startlingly loud flush came from one of the stalls. The toilet door opened and an absolute Adonis of a man emerged and walked over to the sinks. Six feet in height approaching seven with the physique of an Olympic swimmer encased in a silvery silk collared shirt and tight blue jeans, he exuded an air of overwhelming power, confidence and composure.
Callum found himself staring at the man. He quickly looked away. The bathroom was nearly empty now save the two of them.
"A moment of your time," intoned a baritone voice.
Callum froze and slowly looked over at the man, who was standing two sinks down, looking at him owlishly. He had long platinum hair and steely blue eyes. Had he been holding a warhammer he would have been a perfect stand-in for Thor.
"Uh, yes?" said Callum sheepishly.
The man's nostrils flared. Callum realized he was sniffing the air.
"That scent," he said solemnly.
"Uh, yeah man, just light a match."
"Where are you from?" asked the man.
This nonplussed Callum. "Er, what?" he said helplessly.
The man stepped closer and gazed down at him.
"Thine aura is faint and unpolluted by fell energies or holy ones," he said slowly. "Yet there is no mistaking that foul stench."
"Dude, easy," said Callum, raising his hands and backing away. "I have NO idea what you're talking about."
"She is here," hissed the man, baring his perfect ivory teeth. "I thought I sensed some daemonic spoor but to discern one among so many souls is beyond even my perspicacity. You have been carousing with that wretched, horned harlot."
"Wait... are you talking about Cindi?"
"Cindi?" said the man, momentarily confused. Then, his eyes narrowed. "Cimnendi'ayol," he growled, pronouncing the odd combination of phonemes with familiar ease.
"How do you...Oh shit," gulped Callum as he put two and two together "You're on Mythic Matches too, aren't you?" he breathed.
"Indeed."
Callum hesitated.
"L-Look, uh, whatever your name is-"
"Cecil."
"What's your beef with Cindi? I know she can be a bit of a handful but-"
"My 'beef' is that she is a scheming, manipulative harbinger of anarchy and discord, corrupting all that she touches," growled Cecil. "I have warred with her and her kind since the Age of the Elder Gods."
"Age of the elder go-...? You're not human, are you?"
"This form is but a mask I wear in accordance with the pact forged between your kind and The-Powers-That-Be." Cecil took another step towards Callum. "Regardless, you will take me to that foul jinn at once."
"What?"
"I will not permit her free rein in this world. She must be dealt with."
"Dealt with?" exclaimed Callum, outrage momentarily eclipsing his fear. "You're going to attack her? Here? Out in the open?"
Suddenly, a loud flush emanated from one of the other stalls. A heavyset bearded man staggered out, washed his hands and then waddled out the bathroom without so much as acknowledging Cecil or Callum, both of whom remained silent as he passed.
"Nothing of the sort, fool," snapped Cecil once the man was gone. Cecil hesitated. "I will...persuade her to leave."
"How? Ask nicely?"
"Enough!" thundered Cecil, white light flaring from his eyes. "Thou art not blameless. Cimnendi'ayol and her kind can only infest this world when invited. No doubt base lust blinded you to the danger she poses. Bring me to her. Now."
Callum's mind raced. He stared at Cecil, looked over at the exit, and then back at Cecil. Then, he turned and scurried out of the bathroom.
"Feckless coward!" roared Cecil.
Callum nearly collided with a trio of young women as he bolted out of the alcove. Apologizing frantically, he whirled around as though about to slip into the crowd but then froze. Thinking quickly, he turned and doubled-back into the alcove, turning left rather than right so as to approach but not actually enter the lady's bathrooms. He then pressed himself against the wall and waited. Sure enough, when Cecil emerged from the men's room he did not see Callum in the unlit passageway. He marched out into the club. Callum waited about a minute before emerging. He saw no sign of Cecil.
"Gotta find Cindi," he murmured to himself.
Something occurred to him as he waded through the crowd. Cindi had outright admitted she lived to spread chaos and her behavior thus so far certainly lent credence to the statement. Granted, she hadn't actually harmed anyone (apart from conning the pair of bouncers) but perhaps it was only a matter of time before her mischief turned serious - deadly, even. Maybe Cecil was the good guy here. How much did he really know about the Realms of Shaltae, the jinn and whatever the hell Cecil was?
Then, Callum spotted Cindi. She was back at the bar and had been joined by a pair of handsome young men. To his surprise, Callum felt a twinge of jealously.
"There you are, Callum!" called Cinid happily, waving. "What took you so long?"
"Uh, yeah, sorry," said Callum as he hurried up to them.
"Marcus, Roger, this is Callum!" said Cindi.
"You're Callum?" said Marcus - a lean, mustachioed Latino wearing a sleeveless black shirt - not even attempting to disguise his surprise and disdain.
"Yeah, hi. Cindi, we gotta talk. Alone," said Callum.
"Whoa, slow down, chief," said Roger - a tanned, muscular, jockish-looking fellow with a handsome yet obnoxious face. "We just ordered some drinks for the lady."
"Cecil is here," said Callum , deciding to cut right to the heart of the matter.
"Who?" said Cindi.
"Cecil!" hissed Callum. "He knows you're here and he's coming after you!"
"Cecil, Cecil, Cecil..." said Cindi, pursing her lips in thought.
"Who's Cecil?" asked Marcus.
"Cecil is..." Callum hesitated, recalling the Mythic Matches nondisclosure clause Cindi had recited when they first met "...An old acquaintance from Cindi's country. Probably be best if we kept our distance," he added meaningfully.
"What, her ex?" said Roger.
"Um..."
"Ooooohh. Him," said Cindi gravely, nodding.
"Now you remember him," said Callum, rolling his eyes.
"He's right over there," said Cindi, pointing.
Callum's heart sank. He slowly turned to look and, sure enough, saw Cecil standing at the edge of the dance floor, glowering. He didn't appear quite as imposing has he had in the confined space of the restroom. Still, he could have easily given a young Jean-Claude Van Damme a run for his money.
"Cimnendi'ayol," he growled as he approached.
