Chapter Fifty-Eight
Daniel and Charles had arrived at a small, private club inside a house in Abita Springs, Louisiana, about forty miles outside New Orleans. This particular club had never been written up in the entertainment section of the Times-Picayune, or in any of the glossy guide magazines available in the lobbies of just about every large and small New Orleans hotel. A man named George Hellenga greeted his guests with great excitement and enthusiasm. Hellenga had badly pitted cheeks, the thickest black eyebrows, dark sunken eyes. He wore contacts that made his eyes appear black. Hellenga weighed more than three hundred pounds, all of it bunched tightly into black leather jacket and pants purchased at a Big & Tall shop in Houston. He bowed to the magicians as they arrived and whispered that he was honored by their visit. 'You should be,'Charles snapped.'We're tired after a long day. You know why we're here. Let's get on with it.' Offstage, Charles often did the talking, especially when addressing someone like this pathetic underling, this cipher, George Hellenga, who immediately showed Daniel and Charles the way downstairs. They were the masters; he was the slave. There were legions of others like him, waiting in so many cities, praying for a chance to serve the Sire. As he descended the steps, Daniel broke into a smile. He saw the captive, the slave, and he was well-pleased. He went to the boy, who looked to be eighteen or nineteen, and spoke to him. 'I'm here now. It's so good to meet you. You're
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astonishing.' The boy was tall, perhaps six feet two. He had closely cropped blond hair, supple limbs, full lips that were accented with the most delicate silver rings. His lips were rosy-red, outstanding. 'He's pouting. He looks so sad. Let him loose,'Daniel commanded the slave Hellenga. 'What is the poor boy's name?' 'His name is Edward Haggerty, Sire. He's a freshman at Louisiana State. He is your servant,' said George Hellenga, who was now trembling visibly. Edward Haggerty's slender hands were manacled to the brick wall. He wore silver thong underwear, a silver ankle bracelet. Nothing else. He was a magnificent creature, slender, toned, perfect in every way. George Hellenga stole a nervous look at the Sire.'He might run if we let him loose, sir.' Daniel reached out his arms to the beautiful boy and held him tenderly, as he would a small child. He kissed his cheek, his forehead, and those astonishing red lips. 'You won't run away?' he asked in a soft, soothing voice. 'Not from you,' the boy answered, just as softly. 'You are the Sire, and I am nothing.' Daniel smiled. It was the perfect answer.
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