Canal Street was booming. Deals were being made with the nod of a head or the wink of an eye. Prosperous looking men with hard eyes and tough hands walked along, alone, with a group of men, or, once, with a woman on each arm. People of every color dashed down, strolled along or sauntered the boardwalks. The strange music rolled out the open doors and splashed the street. Very few of the people out and about this late at night seemed to be just walking, getting from one place to the other. It seemed more a place to see and be seen. There were no unescorted women, and fewer ladies.

Spike could, when he listened, make out some Mandarin, which made him flinch and feel a deep sense of satisfaction at the same time. He stretched and grinned. Yeah, bloody Chinese had been fun, even though he had lost track of Angel and Darla after that bit of a dust up. Of course, losing Angel could only be a good thing, the bloody git. He heard a smattering of Greek next. That had been a bit of all right, too. There was more Spanish, bloody prosing lot, and quite a lot of French in various dialects, a bit of fun, a bit of trouble, and a wide array of American accents. He abhorred American accents. They certainly didn't lend themselves to poetic speaking. He snorted. Not that he cared a fig about poetry anymore. He'd dropped that lot of rubbish a long time ago. Still, he didn't intend to start talking like an American just because he was here now. He didn't plan on staying long, just until he decided where to next.

As he listened to the voices around him, Spike and Drusilla sauntered across the street and up the steps of the imposing mansion on the opposite side. He stole a glance at Dru, but he never could tell what she was thinking, well, not unless she was torturing something, or being tortured. A Negro stood at the door of the mansion. He wore a white silk suit with a red turban, sash and red gloves. He bowed and took the card from Drusilla's hand. She pouted, but let him take it without even a flash of her eyes. He bowed to them both and opened the door, allowing them to enter.

"My dears," An older, but well-preserved woman swept toward them as they entered. Spike had an impression of dazzling chandeliers and beautiful paintings under a ceiling of gilt, before she was upon them, the smell of patchouli almost strong enough to make him sneeze. "Welcome to Storyville." She reached out and clasped Spike's hand, ignoring Dru. "I hope you didn't mind my asking you to come visit me."

"Ooooh, what a lot of pretty death has been riding hard through here, lathering all the horses and the girls. Such a lovely lot of deadly girls." Dru was ignoring the woman as well, staring through the entry and into the ballroom-sized lounge beyond with narrowly-slitted eyes.

"Dru…" Spike barely had the word out before she was gone, waltzing to some music only she could hear. She pulled Miss Edith out of her pocket and, holding her by each china hand, waltzed through the entry and on into the larger room.

He looked down at the woman clinging to him. She was a nice armful, large melon-breasts overflowing her bodice, her dress clinging to her rounded limbs quite nicely. He could see her nipples very clearly through the cloth of her gown and admired them. Too bad it was Dru he was hot for. Of course, he didn't really go for women this long in the tooth. Dru wouldn't like it and he didn't like being bossed. He smiled at her, realizing that his cataloguing of her charms hadn't phased her a bit. "And why did you ask us to drop round, then?" he asked.

"Oh, well, because I saw your," she paused delicately, "your work." She simpered at him, and then at Dru. He raised an eyebrow at her. "In the alley, I mean," she hastened to clarify.

"Which alley? What work?" His muscles tensed.

"Oh, just now, I meant…" She trailed off with a nervous titter. He just looked at her until she went on. "I thought, she's your girl, right?" The cultured accents fell away as the woman spoke, gaining confidence. "I need a man who can do that comfortably, you know, keep the girls in line, without wanting to break them, and that's always a problem," she shook her head regretfully. "I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind doing it for me as well as yourself. Give you both a little place to rest your heads awhile." She'd reached her stride by the time she'd finished and was looking meaningfully out at the house as if he should recognize her offer as being welcome, even desireable.

He was just about to tell her to sod off when Dru spoke up from the entrance to the other room. "Oh, do take her up on it darling Spike, darling Spike. I want to watch the horses riding through once or twice. Perhaps we can even call them? I want to dance with the little girls. She has very pretty little girls, don't you?"

The woman smiled stiffly. "Is she, quite.. quite?" She looked to Spike for help.

"Dru and me are just fine on our own. thanks."

The woman's voice hardened. "I can have a dozen bully boys from three different gangs show you just how wrong you are if you cross me." She looked him up and down with disgust. "It shouldn't be too hard for them to find you, a crazy woman and an Englishman in an ill-fitting coat with, if I'm not mistaken, blood on the collar."

Spike looked down. She was right. There was a bit of blood. Damn, and he'd been so careful last time. Still, he looked fondly at Dru, she never was and never got it on her so much as on him, and the walls, and anything else near where she happened to be at the time. He shrugged, small price to pay.

The woman's eyes widened with alarm when he shrugged. "Really, though, there's no reason for me to resort to threats. Please, come in. I've been terribly remiss. She released his arm and swept forward into the next room, taking Dru's hand and tucking it into the crook of her arm as she went. "We'll have some Madeira and you can tell me all about yourselves. Are you already working with someone?"

She didn't pause for an answer, pulling a bell in a corner and speaking in a quiet voice to the pretty girl who showed up immediately after, before swinging her skirts to the settee in the middle of the room and sitting down near the middle of it, pulling Dru down beside her. Spike, perforce, followed, eyeing the girl as she swayed back out the invisible door through which she'd entered. Invisible when closed, anyway. He admired that. She was a pretty coffee and cream coloured creature. He admired that too.

"Spike!" Dru was looking distinctly peeved at the direction of his thoughts, casting meaningful looks at the front of his trousers. He grinned at her and sauntered over to them.

"So, what's on?" The woman looked confused.

"You're a pretty duck, for such an old one." Drusilla leaned in and sniffed at the woman's neck. "What's your name, duck?"

"I, my name, Lulu, Lulu White," The woman looked flustered, unsure whether to respond to the implied insult of old age or the fact that Drusilla was suddenly licking her neck. She settled for wriggling a little away from Dru who suddenly lost interest and leaned back, talking to Miss Edith in a high-pitched baby-voice babble.

"So, Lulu." Spike smirked. "What's the deal then?"

She leaned toward him, casting a fearful glance at Dru. "Really, is she quite safe?"

Spike leaned toward Lulu and when he had her full attention, smiled at her. She smiled back. "No."

"No." She leaned back, thrown by the whole thing, and fanned herself with one plump hand. "I see." She took a moment to gather herself. "Mr…." She waited for a response.

"Spike'll do."

"Right. Mr. Spike." He waited, arms crossed across his chest, feet spread. Didn't matter. He'd hear her out while Dru was having fun and then they'd go find someplace she liked better.

"She is a silly old quacker, isn't she Miss Edith? All flouncing about with her breasts out and her butt covered in a big pillow."

"I want to hire your services to keep my girls in line."

"Oh, Miss Edith. Yes, you're quite right. We wouldn't like her near so much if she didn't like the horsies. Do you think she's gone quite round the bend?"

"And that means, exactly?"

Lulu looked flustered again, trying to ignore Dru's singsong commentary and the oddity of the whole interview.

"Well, I'm sure you're aware sometimes the girls don't like the men they have to partner, or they may malinger to avoid work."

"Do you suppose the horses work the girls every night, bringing armies of all the ugly bugs to eat them inside out?"

Spike motioned for the woman to continue.

"And, I'm sure you're aware there are men who could do the job who would mark the girls up for their own pleasure, or render them unfit to work. I noticed, well, when you were disciplining this young lady," the woman cast a nervous glance at Dru again, "that you didn't mark her at all, and she didn't…break."

"And what would I get for this service?"

"Room, board and your own use of the girls as you like and there aren't any clients for them." The woman sat up straighter, pleased she'd gotten him to talking price.

"Singing little girl songs and screaming them to mummy but mummy isn't here anymore, is she Miss Edith, unless, that is, mummy is the baddest girl?"

"Don't want your board, might like use of the girls." He threw his own glance at Dru. "Does that include her?"

Dru giggled.

"Well, of course, she's welcome. She's your girl." Lulu looked affronted. "Though if you'd like her to be of use to some of our clients, I think I have one or two who would find her, her kind, that is, a lovely girl like her attractive." She hurried on at the speculative look Spike gave her. "I'd have to approve any of your regular clients coming in my house."

"Oh, she's a lovely fowling piece to bring the horses in."

"I meant what would I be paid, in cash, and would she get use of the girls." Spike shifted. This was taking a bit too long and he was getting hungry.

"Rolls about in dung I bet."

"She?" Lulu's eyes boggled about in her head. "Use the girls?"

It was, perhaps, an inauspicious beginning, but Dru had wanted it, so after some wrangling about pay--they decided on 5 percent of the night's profits--he'd taken the job. It didn't start until 8 or so in the evening and everyone there slept during most of the daylight hours.

At first, he was careful to keep Dru in their rooms and pretend to eat the food they sent up. When he was in a cheery mood, he gave it to one or another of the girls, who then worked harder. After awhile, Dru started wandering out into the hallways, following the girls and their clients into the rooms. Some of the clients even started asking for her when they realized that, as barmy as she seemed, their orgasms were more intense when she was there, whispering in their ears while one of the girls rode them hard. If they ever questioned the bite marks on thigh or belly or balls, they kept it to themselves, and they came back, and they told their friends.

Occasionally he had to get a little rough with one of the girls, but not often. They were all afraid of Dru. One of the girls tended to cross herself whenever either one of them went by which was annoying. Twice Spike took a client out for marking a girl, and then made sure he never came back and never went home. He enjoyed those times, though Dru pouted at being left out and there was something in Spike that made it more fun if it was a girl. Okay, so they possibly got a little too comfortable and went too far.

They'd attracted more attention, which meant more clientele, which meant more money. Dru, who loved the shiny stuff, had quite a little stash of gold coins saved back. The only money they'd spent was on a new suit for Spike because the only troublesome client Spike's size had been a little messy there at the end when he realized he was really going to die.

Unfortunately, all the extra attention was making Lulu nervous. Strange men started showing up, not to pinch the girls before finally choosing one or two during the viewing hours of 8-11, but to talk to Lulu in her private office. She started dropping things, and starting at sharp noises.

It was Dru put Spike on to what was happening. "She doesn't like us anymore, the pretty fowler, not since we've made her look so pretty and plump to the," Dru's voice dropped, playing at a man's gruff tones, "thoroughgoing rounder man."

"Dru," Spike sighed. "What are you on about now?" He'd been watching a couple shag through a peephole, trying to time his entrance just right. He had a fancy for a little rich meat and had decided to take another client but got distracted watching the poncy boy's ass jiggle as he bounced the pretty girl with the creamed coffee skin.

"Our pretty nest's about to be fouled with the bits left over from our fowl." She snickered. "We don't mind at all, do we Miss Edith, as mean as she's been to us." She looked back up at Spike, "and I hate that music. It makes Miss Edith cross."

Dru'd been just about impossible ever since Lulu had brought in one of those new jazz bands to play in the receiving room. He turned back to the room and realized he'd missed his opportunity. While he'd been listening to Dru's ravings, the client had finished and was fastening his pants back up as he opened the door and stepped out.

"Bloody fast git, ain't you?" Spike sneered. "Oh, yeah, you're a right big man." He swung away from the peephole, restless, and headed for the door.

Dru grabbed his arm and dug her nails in deeply enough to draw blood. "Where are you going?"

"Out!" Spike shouted. "It's none of your business what I do with my time now, is it? Bloody woman, always whining about things that are none of your concern." He flung her hand off and slammed out the door, shrugging into his suit jacket as he left. He realized, when he got outside, that he really didn't have anywhere to go, so he stopped and leaned against the wall, pulling out a thin cigar for a little smoke and relaxation. He realized, soon enough, that the wall he was leaning against was right beside Lulu's office window.

"You're making a lot more than this, Lulu." The man's voice sounded lazily indulgent.

Lulu's voice came next. "You know how high expenses are, Tom. I'm doing my best, really. I just can't afford to give you any more than that."

The man, Tom, snorted. "Have you forgotten who you're dealing with? I run Storyville. I know pretty much to the penny what you bring in. I don't get your new draw, but I know you have one. It better not be another little girl, neither, or we'll have the law down on us. Still, doesn't matter what it is as long as I don't need to know about it and I get my cut. I can bring in some boys at the drop of my hat and you won't have a place, the girls won't be worth trying to work, and no one will see a thing. I am the A. B. C. class around here, Lulu. Considering all that, I think you should take a look at your profits a little more close like."

Spike started moving, throwing his cigar into the night with an oath, as he heard Lulu start her quavering whine again, this time about bad investments. He was at her office door before she reached her conclusion and opened it, breaking the lock with an extra little stress to the twist on the doorknob.

"Lulu!" Spike smiled expansively. "Is this the Tom you've been telling me about?" Spike cringed inwardly while he reached out and shook the man's hand. Keep channeling William, the spineless wonder, he thought, as he pumped and smiled. He turned, finally, to Lulu. "So, have you told him about our surprise?"

Lulu and Tom both looked at him and echoed. "Surprise?"

Tom turned to her. "You don't know about this either?"

"Of course I do, silly man." She smiled at Spike and Tom in turn. "Spike, dear, since it was your idea, why don't you tell him?"

"Of course Miss Lulu." He winced. That was a little over the top. Right then. "We've planned a night of celebration for you and your boys, just a little special we've cooked up. A few of the girls have complained of being tired, and you know Lulu, she's so good to her girls." Spike smiled fondly at Lulu and she gave him a sickly stretch of the lips back. He turned back to Tom. "So, anyway, while she has those few of the girls checked over by the medical profession, she thought the rest might enjoy a little playtime, and so might your boys as well. So." He stopped and beamed at them.

"Okay, I know I always say a guy has to carry a little hot air, but," Tom's beefy fist waved in Spike's direction, "is this guy for real? He don't sound like no wise guy to me."

Lulu's face seemed frozen with that same sickly grin. "Why, yes, of course." She looked to Spike for help.

"Lulu will have her payment on her investments then, of course, and she'll pay you right up what she owes you." He patted Tom on the back and looked over at Lulu. "It's Wednesday next, isn't it Lu?"

"Huh?"

"The medics're coming Wednesday next, right?"

"Oh, yes, Wednesday. Please, bring the boys Tom." She stood up after a moment of silence and reached across her desk, shaking his unresisting hand. "I'll have the rest of the money for you then." She gave Spike a painful glance and sailed out of the room.

"You're not shittin' me then?" Tom shook his head, looking after Lulu. "If that don't beat all. I wonder what happened to her." He looked back at Spike. "You think she got religion?" Spike shrugged as Tom gathered his hat and headed for the door. "I been thinkin' about religion," he muttered to himself as he left.

Spike assured Lulu that he had a plan and she, worried about her life and her money, left him to it. She had no other options and she didn't want to know.

"Dru love?"

"Yes my pretty Spike what pretends to be so smooth and friendly."

"You been listening again, then?"

She laughed. "Silly, I hear you all the time, even when I can't. Don't I Miss Edith?" She made the doll's head nod. "We like your plan to make the bloody horses run."

Spike thought about that a moment. "Can we do it ourselves, then, or will we need help, do you think?"

"What do you think, Miss Edith? Can we scare away the silly men all on our lonesome?" Dru's face screwed up and she put the doll near one ear. "I think so too," she whispered.

Wednesday night, the doorman, George, put up a closed sign on the door and then, after they arrived, locked it behind Tom and his men. He stayed on the outside.

The band was playing, some group led by a barber, Buddy, and the girls were milling around the viewing room, nervous as ponies. Dru watched from the landing, her hands covering her mouth to keep from breaking out into peels of laughter. Instead of the usual chandeliers, the room was lit by a few candles here and there scattered on tables. The music set Dru's teeth on edge and she fancied she smelled blood already. "Oh, Miss Edith, we're going to have fun."

The men, somewhere around 30 of them, stood in a clump in the doorway as Lulu came forward and greeted Tom Anderson, the king of Storyville. She chatted, asking about business and whether or not this was really all his boys; it wasn't, some were working and couldn't come, but he'd brought the lion's share. She moved around the room with them, introducing them to the girls. Slowly, getting some of her alcohol into them, a little marijuana burning in the hookah, seemed to help them all calm down and get down to the business of good, clean fun.

It wasn't long before the band had them all dancing, and Spike, trailing Dru, had pulled several of the boys through the invisible doors in the receiving room walls and ripped out their throats. Even Dru, by this time, was covered in blood and Spike was laughing. He hadn't had this much fun since well, since the Boxer Rebellion.

It was the music stopping that brought them out of the stupor that too much blood and too many easy marks had dropped them into.

"Finally," Dru breathed soulfully. "That nasty, nasty sound has gone away. I hope it stays away forever." She flashed Spike a smile. "Shall we see what made the little man with the shiny horn be quiet?"

Spike smiled back almost gaily, his brow ridges dripping blood. "I'd say we should, Pet." In a parody of their arrival, he offered her his arm, and then triggered the door to swing open and stepped out.

Tom was standing, gun to the head of Buddy the cornet player, shouting, when they walked in. "Where are my boys? What have you done with them, you lewd old hag?"

"I haven't done anything with them, Tom. I give you my word." Lulu's mouth worked tremulously.

"Where are my boys!?" He was shouting even louder now, now, red-faced, spittle-flying. He shifted his grip on the pistol. "Don't move, boy. I don't want to shoot you. You make pretty good music." The words made no impact on Buddy, though. He'd caught sight of Dru and Spike and fainted.

When Tom caught sight of them, he let go of Buddy and stood, open-mouthed. "What, what are you?"

Lulu took a look, another, and then fainted dead away as well. The girls scattered, screaming as she hit the floor hard enough to bounce. A yellow puddle spread out from her skirts and Dru finally started laughing, so hard she couldn't stand upright.

There were about a dozen of "the boys" left. A few of them tried to run, a few tried to shoot them. One was unlucky enough to graze Dru's face. She transformed immediately into a creature out of nightmare, bounding toward him so quickly he hadn't time to shoot her again. She caught him up and ripped his face off with one hand, catching the fountaining blood and then spewing it on the floor. "This one doesn't taste right," she whined.

"That's all right, Pet," Spike smiled absentminded, his eyes on Tom. "You just catch you another, right?"

She squealed like a girl and began running after them as they scattered. "Oh, this is like blindman bluff, but I'm not blind!"

Tom stood on the musician's dais and waited for Spike who sauntered up slowly, catching the blood on his tongue as it dripped from his eye ridges. Spike stopped at the bottom, one foot on the bottom step as he leaned over and braced himself, forearm on his thigh. "Nice night we're havin."

Tom began to splutter. "I don't know what you are, but I'll take you out. You won't have a chance in this town when I'm through with you. I own this town!"

Spike laughed. "You don't own shit, friend." He sniffed the air. "Though, I'm thinkin' your britches are a might soiled at the moment." He sobered. "I give you 30 seconds to run." Tom took off down the platform and ran, Spike hallooing after him.

It was all over in less than an hour. Tom had gotten away. The right bloody bastard had taken to wearing a crucifix about his neck which had startled Spike as it swung out of his shirt collar just as Tom had been cornered in the attics near a window. He'd taken advantage of Spike's moment of confusion and jumped. It was a long way down, but there was a lot of rubbish in the streets. Spike was pretty sure he'd gotten away relatively well. He'd be healing for awhile, though. Bloody religion.

Dru had a great lot of fun with the other men, and once the girls realized they were in no danger, they'd helped lure them into dead ends for Dru to finish them off. Amazing bunch of girls. Spike shook his head. He'd hate to be on the receiving end of a right mad bunch of girls after seeing this lot work.

When they went back to the receiving room to check on Lulu, they found only the puddle. Lulu and the band were gone. It was almost dawn. They went back to their room and snuggled up for sleep. Dru had just started to snore when Spike looked over at her regretfully and squeezed her tight. She awoke instantly, staring at him, her great brown eyes shining in the dark. "I think we'd best be moving on, don't you Pet?"

"Oh yes, lovey." Dru winked at him and laughed, licking blood off her chin with her incredibly long tongue. "I think we need to find some more parties like this to crash. This one's gotten all boring."

The next night the house was utterly silent when they got up. Confused, they thought Lulu would be doing a brisk business, they left their room and wandered the corridors. All the girls were gone. Lulu was nowhere in sight. Whatever was going on made them uneasy.

Suddenly, they heard a pounding at the door. Spike gave Dru a push and she raced back to their room, scooping the pouch of gold out of the hole in the floorboards. He met her as she came out and they raced for the attics, coming out on the roof just as the men at the door broke it down. Spike looked, confusion clear in his eyes, at Dru. She narrowed her eyes and hissed, curling her fingers into claws and striking down as if she'd rip out someone's heart, someone down on the street. Spike looked back down, eyes narrowed in disgust. Lulu stood there, well to the back of the men, bewailing the murders and the demons who had done good men to death in her perfectly law abiding establishment.

"Oh, well, that's really torn it then, hasn't it?"

Dru nodded, a small smile on her face.

"Dru, pet? What's that look for?"

She looked over at him and licked his chin, this time. He felt dried blood flake away with the licking. "She'll get hers, dying all alone and frothy, far away on the sea and never able to drink a bit of it. She's very frightened and she's getting everything she's frightened of." Dru pulled Miss Edith out of her pocket and hugged her, twisting back and forth. "That makes me really quite happy."

They headed for the river then, determined to cross and find a place to hide away from the sun by morning. At one intersection they ran across a parade just as Buddy Bolden and his band swung through, horns blaring. Dru, in a fit of pique at the music, roared into game-face and clawed at him. Only he, darting glances in every direction, saw her face. It was enough. She laughed as she scampered after Spike, enjoying the musical, anguished cries of one Mr. Bolden, jazzman, who began screaming about demons on the streets of New Orleans.

~~~~

She drew herself up, all affronted dignity. "Some of those people carry guns to blow one another to bits. I don't like seeing that, I don't, all the bloody bits and I didn't make them."

Loverly. I love your Dru. The horses, the girls, the blood. Lovely.

But, now, but I have to question this...

All flouncing about with her breasts out and her butt covered in a big pillow."

Because Dru's a proper lady, she is. Brought up with the old Queen. She'd say, if she had to mention the unmentionable at all, bosom and bottom, would she not?

She might at that. I have a hard time hearing Drusilla in my head. Okay, fixed on the original. I like that better.