“Yeah, it’s not the best of spells because the supernatural can block it with ease, but for humans, it works well.”
Something like that could sure come in handy.
“Found one.” She looks up at me, and I raise an eyebrow.
“So how do we find them? You going to share what this ‘evil’ person looks like?” I mock, making quotation marks with my fingers.
“Yes. He’s wearing a gold watch, three rings on his left hand, and a terracotta-coloured tie.”
“English, please. Terracotta?” Is that a shade of brown?
“It’s a colour.” I frown.
“Yeah, what shade? You don’t need to complicate things. Terracotta is like a brown, init?”
She stares at me, and she doesn’t need to wear an expression for me to know she’s thinking I’m dumb.
“It’s a burnt orange.”
“Orange. You could have just said that,” I mutter.
“Not just orange, a dark brownish-orange, like the colour of Halloween and autumn.”
“Right, somewhere between brown and orange. Just get back in the car. I’ll go get him if he’s suitable.”
“He is, I can sense it.”
I meant if he has enough life left. Hades doesn’t care for someone who is about to die.
I wait until they get in the car, and focus on the mist I created, watching the sleek blue blend in with the surrounding darkness thanks to the fog.
I pass by my chosen target’s car. Pulling open the door, I look at the confused man and drag my extracted nail down the centre of his forehead.
He’ll die within the next six minutes.
Shutting the door, I’m stopped by one of the prostitutes.
“Hey sexy, looking for some fun? I charge 200, but foryou, I’ll take 100.” I look at the woman who’s chewing gum, her garish make-up and bleached hair look like a fucking mess.
“No thanks,” I reply with a small smirk as I walk past her towards the club.
“50 pounds then!”
“No thanks.” Dude, that’s an insult; does she think I need to pay for sex? I mean, I know I’m good-looking. Girls line up for me for free.
I enter the club and start scanning the crowd, trying to find the person wearing a bloody terracotta tie. I pass through the crowd, heading to the rooms in the back. I look past the curtains. No one notices me, far too consumed by the women or men they’re fucking.
I see two guards ahead and tilt my head, maybe?
I let the mist cloud the dark hall and silently slip past the unsuspecting guards. Sliding the curtain aside, I instantly frown at the sight before me. The man wearing a very dark orange – yes, she could have just said dark – tie has his pants open and is fucking a woman that he is holding face down on the bed, but I can still hear her stifled sobs.
“I don’t think she’s enjoying that,” I say quietly, letting the fog swirl around us, coming mid-thigh.
The man pauses as he looks at me, confusion flickering in his eyes.
“Who the fuck are you?” he snarls. “Security!”
Right now, he’s in my domain, and no one else can hear him.
