“I know the perfect place, and we might even be able to get some intel,” he says, and I arch an eyebrow at him. It’s been years since I’ve been back in this town, but not much has changed.
The establishment is called Hex, and I automatically know a witch owns the bar. Which is surprising.
Most of the witches I have come across are fucking weird. They like to stay in their groups in the forest worshiping their goddesses. For the most part, I don’t pay them any attention. They stick to themselves and stay far away from demons.
Half of the place is set up like a tavern or bar. With magical memorabilia lining the walls. The bar top is sleek and black. It reminds me of Satan’s meeting table. The back of the bar is designed to look like an alchemy lab with different liquors disguised as potions. The rest of the restaurant is set up with wooden tables and chairs. The ambience meant to make you feel like you’re in a witch’s home.
An over excited woman pops up from the bar. Clearly a witch, she looks joyous and like she hugs trees in her free time. Long red hair down with butterfly clips.
“What can I get you, gentlemen?” she asks, giving Asmodeus a once over.
“Well, love. What do you recommend?” he asks.
Her voice is cheery.Too cheery. Why are these witches always so fucking happy? “Well, I’m the mixologist here. What kind of cocktails do you like?”
“Tart, I like them with a little bite.”
“Oh, well, you should try the love potion number 9. I just created it this morning.”
“Sounds lovely, Dax?” He nudges me.
The witch looks at me, and her eyes widen. She looks at a door behind her and then cools her face, looking back at me. Can she perceive what we are? Usually witches have some sense of other magic, but not specifically demons.
I look over the menu. “I’ll have an eye of newt.”
“Great choice, be right back,” she squeaks as she turns to make our drinks.
Asmodeus stares at her ass and rubs his bottom lip. “What do you think the success rate is for a magical offspring if both parents have their own magic?”
“Shut the fuck up, Asmo.”
“I’m just saying, it has to up the chances of creating something.”
“This whole breeding program bullshit is disgusting.”
“Says the sad little demon with the non-magical child.”
“You don’t have any magical children, either, asshole.”
“Not yet,” he replies. I roll my eyes as the garden witch slides us our cocktails.
“Thank you,” I tell her and Asmodeus tries to engage her in conversation.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, as she ducks under the bar. I follow her with my gaze as she approaches the most stunning creature I have ever seen.
I can’t sense her powers from here, but there’s no doubt in my mind that she’s a witch. She has pale skin, black hair that is slightly out of control around her face, large doe eyes and a pouty heart shaped mouth. She’s wearing a black plaid skirt that shows off her black and gray tattoos on her thighs. Her top is also black and tight around her breasts. I can see another tattoo poking out from the sleeve of her shirt.
Both of the witches look at me wide eyed before they go to the back room.
“What the fuck?” Asmodeus says. “Do you think they know what we are?”
“Maybe, but the witch behind the bar seemed pretty friendly with you.”
He smiles. “She did, didn’t she?”
I take a sip of my drink. Other patrons are standing by the bar, lingering for drinks and waiting impatiently.
“What the fuck? Where’s Stevie? I’ve been waiting for ten fucking minutes.”
