“How about him?” Nomard nodded. “Perfect.” Dramon led the way through the dim, smoky nightclub, the thudding beat of the monotonous music underscoring the deep drone of voices. Oiled, almost naked women entertained drunk or drugged men, flashing lights made the atmosphere garish, and beady-eyed dealers plied a roaring trade in the latest designer drugs. This was Dramon’s sort of place, and he and his brother had already sampled most of it wares. The drugs, drink and droges were becoming a bit boring, however. It was time to make life a lot more interesting. The man, a greater fire demon, eyed Dramon as he approached, his ink-black eyes flicking to Nomard. The demon wore a scarlet suit sprinkled with glitter, a gold nose ring and so many neck chains he could barely turn his head. Dramon pulled out a chair with a screech and flopped onto it, and Nomard took the one beside it. The furniture creaked, but held, despite their immense weight.
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