Forty † The Paper-Hanger

The first thing that Kat and Calix met upon being let in by the buff men at the main entrance was the music.

Calix expected something fast, brash, and ear-splitting, but to his surprise, the song being played was slow and dark, featuring a piano and a woman's light breathy voice. It contrasted artistically with the wash of red in the circular area of the club, illuminating the black bar counter, the glittery curtains on the stage, and the barely-dressed humans with stiff fake wings and halos.

"Angels?" he spluttered, facing Kat. "But last time, they were not dressed—or stripped down—like this."

"Well, they're going to open in half an hour," she said knowledgeably. "Also, it's Friday. They do themes on Fridays, according to the taste of the highest tipper of the previous week."

Calix nodded in understanding, then he paused, eyes narrowed. "Wait. How do you know all that?"

Kat shifted uncomfortably. "Let's just say I'm a semi-regular customer."

As though to prove that, a couple of men d