The helicopter ride was short. And once we were dropped off at the helipad closest to Lilith’s bar, a black tinted limousine picked us up and drove us to the bar, as the evening faded into night.
Velours Bar was like a bar snatched out of a Las Vegas magazine. Its letters glowed neon pink, and the sound of heavy bass music filtered out, sultrily inviting people in. The mass of crowded people outside, struggling to get in was enough proof that the music and glowing lights played their charms.
General Abaddon’s butler squeezed us through the crowd to the bouncer. He brought out a card from his breast-pocket and showed it to the large man. “They’re with me.” He said, motioning to us.
The bouncer gave us a once-over, his eyes falling on Napoleon. “No pets allowed.”
Bellus pouted, and held
