It's hard to leave when you can't find the door, Part 2.

I go to parties sometimes until four
It's hard to leave when you can't find the door...

We followed the mysterious (Greek?) woman down the hallway to the elevator. She led us to an elaborate door and opened it.

We entered a grand hall that looked more like a classical opera house than the hotel conference room I had been expecting. Mr. Pavertos's "father" was evidently quite a collector...I recognized paintings by Salvador Dali and Evard Munch, though neither of them seemed familiar from any art catalogue or art history book I'd read before. Nevertheless, the style and signatures at the bottom of each were unmistakable and authentic.

There were also photos of this very intense looking gentleman stretching back through the ages, never aging....a well preserved black & white photo of the gentleman playing a chess match with a very young looking Adolf Hitler in a Vienna coffee house....as well as more modern portraits...with President John F. Kennedy...dated October 1963(?)...another with The Beatles, obviously from the early 1970s since Yoko Ono was there, too, hanging all over a beaming John Lennon...still another from the late 1960s, in the company of Jimi Hendrix...

Laurel noticed a genuine Stradivarius hanging on the wall as well...

As if stepping out from one of those photos, the enigmatic gentleman appeared at the top of one of the two giant staircases leading to the balcony above in this giant hall.

"I see you have found my collection...." he said, descending the staircase.

"I hope it is to your liking..."

Gunnar spoke up next. "I wanted to thank you, sir, for your gracious discount of the fine meal we took at dinner. But I was wondering if you could let me know your name?"

"I...(he paused for dramatic effect) am Lucifer..."

Gunnar let out an incredulous laugh. "It's just too ridiculous..." he squeeked, between peals of laughter.

The enigmatic gentleman stared Gunnar down icily and said in a commanding voice "I will not be mocked in my own home."

Gunnar seemed rooted to the spot for a moment and fell silent. The awkward silence which followed seemed last an eternity.

Lucifier then beckoned to a large, lengthy table in the exact center of the Grand Hall and bid we take our seats.

"I invite you to have anything you like, on or off the hotel's menu..." he said.

Remembering our last meal and all of us still feeling "off", somehow, from having been drugged (all of us but Gunnar), we all politely declined the offer of a post-midnight meal.

"I hope in that case, you will not object if I take a meal for myself...I've been very busy and just now have a moment free to eat."

"Not at t'all, your grace." I said.

The woman who had lead us here took Lucifer's meal request and quickly vanished out the door. It occurred to me that in every one of these photos, Lucifer had been photographed shortly before some personal calamity or death of the individual or group.

Gunnar spoke up again "I was actually recommended this fine establishment by your son, Tim Pavertos.", passing the late Mr. Pavertos' business card to Lucifer.

"I thought you should know, I had to shoot him in the head."

My whole body tensed, preparing to leap out of the chair for combat if necessary.
I fixed my gaze on our enigmatic host.

I noted a look of shock and surprise, but strangely, no anger at all.

"I thought you should hear it from me first.", continued Gunnar.

The surprised expression went as quickly as it had come, replaced by a very sickening smile.

"...in that case, I should actually thank you for fixing a long standing problem. My son Tim, you see, was trying to work his way up in the family business, but, I'm afraid, he just wasn't 'cutting it', you see."

Lucifer's meal arrived and he dug into it with gusto. He washed down those first bites with a generous, deep sip of very red wine then continued to converse with Gunnar and the rest of us.

Lucifer explained that Tim's incompetence had brought The Order to his doorstep, but that he was also thankful for our ridding him of that meddlesome priest, Father Joshua O'Brien. I gathered that the rest of The Order's strike team were the hapless fools at the mercy of Lucifer's harlots in the den of excess Aisling had borne brief witness to. A fitting end to a bunch of uptight ultra-conservative Catholics, I laughed inwardly.

"Seeing as we've done you two large favors recently..." Gunnar continued, "we'd like to call in those chips, as it were."

"We would like you to free the Scions Ty and Horrace, whom we have good reason to suspect are in your custody."

Lucifer considered this a moment and shrugged..."You may have Ty, if you can persuade him to come along with you, that is."; He laughed with an air of great mystery.

"As for Horrace, I'm afraid I'm still busy with him. I will let you see him, but if you attempt to take him from me, I will destroy you all."

Another awkward silence followed.

"...still, let it never be said that I'm not a gambling man. If you can best me in a competition of musical skill, I will let your Horrace go free."

"Fine; let me see that Stradivarius.", said Laurel suddenly.

"I can back you up, Laurel.", I said, and turning to our host I continued "...I'm a bit of an Irish fiddle player myself."

Lucifer smiled generously and said "Oh, is that so?", he clapped his hands. Another woman descended the staircase slowly, cradling a violin with solid gold plating.

Lucifer picked up the priceless Stradivarius himself and handed it gingerly to Laurel, cautioning: "Be careful with this one, it was the last one he ever made..."

Before we could begin, a cloaked figure entered and approached Lucifer urgently and they spoke in hushed tones in what sounded to me like modern Greek. I looked over at Laurel, who was paying close attention and clearly comprehending the conversation. All I know is that Lucifer grew increasingly annoyed with his servant and gave him a violent kick that send him flying. He hit the wall with a dull thud and then picked himself up, bowed obsequiously, then let himself out the door.

Lucifer turned back to us and bid Laurel and I to begin our music. Laurel opted for a merry, boisterous Greek folk tune not unlike some I'd heard at noisy Greek weddings after far too much Ouzo in my blood. I played the golden violin and added a Celtic fusion element, throwing in riffs from various Irish reels and gigs I'd played (or heard played) through the years in various Irish pubs, even a little Scottish highland fiddle....Eileen Ivers and Bonnie Rideout would've been proud, I think. The result was not unlike the fusion of sounds you might find on an Afro-Celt Sound System album...

Lucifer gave us both a polite golf clap and Laurel and I took a bow. The rest of our companions, I realized, had never heard either Laurel or I play before, and all of them seemed impressed.

"Now, my turn." he said...

As if almost to mock me, I detected almost immediately a Celtic influence in his playing...then quickly recognized it was a full on Irish fiddle piece, very complicated and one that I'd never been able to quite master myself. The playing was, well....God-like. As if being broadcast from the heart of all the Tuatha de Dannan itself. More Irish than the Irish. Almost a rebuke of my fusion technique in its purity of form.

It was Gunnar who clapped afterward, saying:

"...that was very masterfully played. So let's drop these pretensions. We're not Charlie Daniels, this isn't Georgia, and you're not Lucifer. I only know of one God who would delight in a competition as exquisite as this. I believe re-introductions are in order; My friends, may I present to you the Greek God Pan, in the flesh..."

There was a dazzling flash of light, and our eccentric host's visage, his whole person transformed before my very eyes from a distinguished gentleman in a black suit with iconic black van dyke beard to the playful, horned God Pan, of the Greek pantheon.

He let loose a boisterous laugh of several seconds duration.

"Well done, well done..." he proclaimed giddily.

"...as for the respective performances, we'll call it a draw.", said Pan cheerfully.

If it was indeed a draw, it was due to the intensity and passion in Laurel playing, not my Irish fiddle's Celtic riffs...which Pan had thrown back in my face in their fullest and purest form.

"Therefore, I will let you see your dear Horrace, but you are forbidden to take him with you. Ty you can see right now and remove, for he is here on the premises. Pond Scum, you will take them to see the one called 'Ty', immediately."

I hadn't noticed, but the hooded figure had re-entered the Grand Hall during his master's performance and was waiting quietly by the door. The hooded figure beckoned us to follow.

We took several twists and turns and then finally we approached an area with a velvet curtain. Aisling tugged on my jacket and whispered this looked similar to the area she had scouted before.

We found Ty in a large bedroom on an ample bed dressed only partially in what looked like a Graeco-Roman toga, and several women of various ethnicities in various states of undress. All of them seemed to be under the influence of one intoxicant or another.

She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

This was going to be a hard sell, to put it mildly.