“I wasn’t joking if you need help handling the situation.”
“What are you going to do, whack her?” he says, laughing in his chair. I don’t laugh. I’m usually not up for casual murder, but not completely opposed either. At the very least, I could do some demon like shit and spook the girl. “No, she’s just upset I left her. I’m sure she will cool down eventually.”
“So, how has work been going?”
“Good up until today. Hopefully, not everyone saw the posters.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I tell him. I feel like I’m not in my own skin. This small talk and making nice makes me feel itchy. I still don’t feel any genuine affection toward Ryan, and it makes the sloshing feeling in my stomach feel worse. Maybe if he let me do something for him, buy something for him, maybe I would feel better.
The thoughts ease me a little when I realize their selfish nature. It’s about how I feel, not Ryan. At least I’m still a selfish demon at heart.
“If not, I’ll go after her business.” We both hold up our beers that the server dropped off, and it’s probably the first time I’ve felt proud of Ryan.
“Cheers to that.” We clink our glasses, and that’s when the conversation slows. Neither of us really know what to talk about. I can’t exactly explain that I’m searching for a demon who is irresponsibly possessing people. I truly don’t want to hear him talking about selling homes.How trivial.
We’re saved by the server bringing our food, and we eat in uncomfortable silence. Ryan’s phone dings mid bite and he smiles widely. “Thank fuck.” He looks at me and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I have to go, one of the prospects at the open house today still wants to write. I thought I was going to lose this deal.”
“Sure, of course. Keep in touch.”
“Yeah, sure thing. Thanks for dinner.”
I continue eating my food and I can’t help but think about how I still won’t allow myself to feel a connection. What does that say about me? I shake the feeling quickly, and redirect my focus to Blair and what kind of plans I have for the little witch.
Portaling back to the bungalow is like breathing at this point. The small little beach cottage with the light blue siding is becoming comfortable.Disgusting.
I can hear it before I see it. The low moans and grunting don’t deter me from opening the front door. I’m not surprised when I see Kas, ass up on the couch, and Asmo pounding behind her. If he were with a mortal woman, he could easily shatter their pelvis.
“Well, this is fucking cozy,” I say to both of them. Asmo doesn’t even stop his thrusts, just keeps pounding into Kas. Her ass jiggles with each thrust as his balls clack against her.
“Join in or get the fuck out,” Kas says sharply. Fortunately for her, all I can see is her reddened ass in the air. I’m not really inspired to take a deeper look.
“I’d rather keep my dick fully intact. You’re not exactly my type.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” she barks.
Asmo smacks her ass sharply. “No talking, you’re ruining it.”
“On that note, have a lovely evening.”
Since they don’t seem to be putting any work hours in tonight, I decide to. I’ve sent multiple letters to demons both in Hell and in this dimension about a demon named Mara. It’s odd, but no one seems to know who she is. The familiarity in Lucifer’s and Milcom’s eyes was unmistakable when we mentioned her name.
I hear Kas’ moans through the wall and I grab my jacket and keys. No way I’m going to get any work done here tonight.
The best place I can think of to get some answers is a local dive bar that is known for housing supernaturals called Eternity. Fitting, since most of these beings live an immortal existence. I drive my bike down the coast. I could portal, but there’s something about a motorcycle that I enjoy too much. The cool breeze against my face, the low rumble under my body, the lightness of the bike as it turns a tight corner. It might be one of the best inventions the mortals in this dimension have created.
The bar is located not far from the docks, where Asmo and I found the possessed woman. Even from the outside, I can sense demons, werewolves, and a few vampires. I groan, getting off my bike and making my way inside. The bar is disheveled and disgusting, clearly just enough maintenance is done to keep the place standing. The floor is sticky and the lights are low. I locate an empty wooden bar stool and plop my ass down. The stool creaks like it’s crying from supporting my weight, and I wisely decide not to put my arms on the desecrated bar top.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks. Vampire. Interesting.
“Whiskey.” He nods and pours me a lowball glass and slides it over the bar top. No particular person here sticks out to question. Except for one. He’s standing in the corner, nearly enveloped by shadows. I’d know this snake of a demon anywhere. I can practically smell his stench from here.
Beelzebub.
Bringing my whiskey with me, I make my way to the corner of the bar, where the little weasel is standing.
“Beelzebub,” I greet him, with too much kindness.
“Daxaddon,” he replies skeptically.
