I smirk, then set my goblet down and rise from the bed. “I have an idea. You won’t like it.” Without looking I can feel the heat of his stare on my naked body. I bend over to retrieve my garments, giving him every bit of the show he wants. A moment later, I feel his large, warm hand slide up the inside of my thigh.
I playfully push his hand away. “Ah-ah.”
He groans and flops on his back. “You are a tease.”
“You are far from the first male to say so,” I reply. “Now get dressed. Where we’re going, you’ll need pants.”
* * *
“Back in this stinking place,”Zephaniel mutters as we walk the dark, damp streets of Draco City to the front door of Heaven’s Gate, the snidely named bar that caters to one particular kind of clientele. “You must be joking. Considering the state we left it in, they’ll kill us on sight. And by the way, I don’t think angels come to drink here.”
“Hold up,” I say, tugging his arm to stop him. “Remember that we’re dealing with fallen angels now. They’re more my turf than yours. And we’ll be perfectly safe.”
“How?”
I close my eyes for a moment, concentrating hard. When I reopen them, there’s a thin, misty black fog around both our heads, covering our faces.
“What is this?” Zeph asks, lifting his hand to touch the mist.
“It’s a veil,” I reply. “A form of glamour. Our faces will look totally different to anyone inside. We’ll be unrecognizable. And I gave you demon eyes.”
He regards me doubtfully. “If you say so.”
“Let’s go, angel food cake.” I give his ass a swat, then take his arm.
The door security lets us in after verifying that we’re demons. Inside, it’s still just as placid on the first floor as it was the last time we were here. I don’t hear any commotion from upstairs, but I decide it’s best not tempt fate again.
We take a small table near the far wall. Zeph seems ill at ease, his head turning this way and that. I roll my eyes.
“Will you just relax?” I snap. “You look the part, I assure you. You’re going to draw attention by spinning your head around if you don’t knock it off.”
“I thought that’s what your kind does,” he retorts, turning sideways so his back is to the wall.
“Very funny,” I say. “You’ve seen The Exorcist one too many times.”
“What are we doing here?” he asks, flipping his hands palm-up. “Besides wasting time? Are you planning to ask every demon who passes if they just so happen to know where we can find a former Watcher?”
I give him a smug smile. “I don’t need to ask anyone anything. Because I’ve already found what I’m looking for.” I discreetly point toward the bar. At the far end, a male in a dark overcoat sits hunched over a short glass of something.
Zeph follows my finger. “That’s…”
“Yes. Maybe next time, have some confidence in me.”
“Let’s not go celebrating just yet,” he says sharply. “How do you know?”
“His aura is not as dark as regular demon’s,” I say. “It’s rather misty, actually. More gray, as though he’s caught between the realms. He’s here because he has to be, because there’s nowhere else for him, but it’s not in his heart.” I pause. “It’s quite sad, actually.”
Before Zeph can say anything, a demon at the other end of the bar where he’s drinking with some pals gets up and saunters over to the former Watcher.
“Your kind isn’t welcome here,” he says through clenched teeth. “You need to leave.”
When the former Watcher doesn’t move, the demon grabs his arm. “I said, you need to—”
With lightning speed, the fallen angel grabs the demon’s hand, pulls it off his body, then thrusts a palm hard to his chest. The demon’s eyes roll back in his head as his mouth falls open, and his body dissipates into thick, oily black smoke.
Killed him with his bare hands, I think, awed.
The demon’s friends instantly jump off their stool and rush him. He manages to take out a couple, but he’s no match to take on five or six by himself. Because now it’s not just the dead demon’s friends. It’s almost the entire first floor of the bar.