“I don’t care if she’s a Megido. I don’t care if she’s running coke for English. I don’t care if her mother intimidates you. I don’t care if her sister is trying to ruin my brother’s relationship. She can sing. And if she can sing, then she can bring in customers.”

Equius Zahhak stared at his father as the words slipped out of his mouth. It was improper to say such things. It was improper to hold such a tone with Darkleer. But for once in his life Equius didn’t care what was proper or not. “We’re hemorrhaging money day after day. Horuss barely has a patron at the bar on a good night and we can’t afford the lease. We hire her or we’re doomed.”

“You should never hold such a tone with me, my son,” Darkleer said, his voice booming out across the empty club. It had been months since they had a decent night. Things had been going south ever since Disciple had left to chase after the chief of police in a flushed craze. Now it was just Equius and Nepeta singing night after night trying to lure in some dough.

It wasn’t easy.

“But I’m right,” Equius said, refusing to back down after all the arm twisting he had endured to get a Megido anywhere near his father’s nightclub. He looked up at Darkleer, refusing to break eye contact, refusing to surrender after all his hard work.

Darkleer sighed. “But,” he clasped his son’s shoulders. “You are right,”

Equius beamed. “So?”

“I’ll hire her,”

For Phemiec, the only person to snag three spots in my ITunes top ten most played.