Fall From Grace (28 page)

The lot is pretty hoppin' for a Thursday night, a number of pick ups, and a few motor cycles line the perimeter. I can hear some old rock tunes cranking from the jukebox as I pause outside with my hand on the door. What if that wolfie gang was here again - would they remember me? Would they want to kick my ass, or do worse things I can't even fathom? I have to remember that I am more then capable to take care of myself now so I take a full deep breath and pull open the creaky wooden door.

Smoke hits my face with the same intensity of the stale beer odour and thrumming music. I scan the crowd in search of any familiar faces but come up blank as I exhale just a little in relief. It did dawn on me that HE might be here, which probably had more then a little to do with why I ventured back. I entered in pretty unnoticed, like before, with nary a glance my way. There are a few booths filled up on the right and a really drunk couple doing a few spins and topsy turns to the old Lynyrd Skynyrd tune blaring from the box.

They can't be more then 45 which, if they are in fact demons, translates into quite freakin' old. They don't really look it though as I spy a lot of body flaws that wouldn't be there if they were playing on my team. Suddenly the woman starts hacking out a horrendous cough as her dance partner clumsily pats her on the back and hands her a half drunk beer to ease the raking rasps. Nope, definitely human.
 

So this leads me to my next question - how can I tell the difference? Ash said it was something you can pick up on right away, a 6th sense. I turn my attention to the few lone guys at the bar, probably the best place to start. I notice the same spot I sat in before is empty which sends a dart of pain through my chest. I've spent the last few weeks packing all those memories up and folding them away in a box never to be opened again for fear of this exact paralyzing feeling. I take a moment to compose myself, tucking all thoughts of HIM into a nice neat pile and into the garbage dump where he belongs. This is all about me now.

The seat happens to be right next to a big and burly guy, who seems pretty cute, if you like the 'roided up muscly type. Personally not my fav but he'll do in a pinch. I don't want to be scared shitless on my first demon adventure now do I?

I run my fingers through my hair, straighten my shirt and stand up a little taller, psyching myself up and readying my demon moves. I'm attempting sexy, and probably failing miserably, as I saunter over and grab the bar stool. The loud scraping noise it makes as I pull it back, startles me and ruins all hope of a sultry approach.

It does, however, make big burly dude turn his head sharply with a look that could kill. Seeing that it's just a young girl, the look is replaced immediately with something a little different. A wee bit nicer but actually feels more predatory, like the niceness is definitely an act to persuade his conquests into a more lewd proposition.

"Sorry, this seat taken?"

"Only by you I hope." A gravelly voice answers.

As I hope up onto the seat I definitely feel the need for a little liquid courage but don't have the slightest idea of what to order. It would seem an apple-tini would perhaps be a lot on the lame side.
 

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks.

"Um, sure, how about a shot of tequila?" A flashback of some crappy action flick pops into my head with the idea that tequila is bad ass and therefore I must drink it.

"Tequila, I like it," he says with a flash of a grin as his eyes light up at his lucky score tonight. He waves a finger at the barman who seems completely in his own world wiping glasses and ignoring everyone completely. With this small gesture from my new drinking buddy, he simply nods his head, never looks up, and proceeds to pour my shot. A moment later he appears with my drink sloppily placed in front of me and next to a grimy salt shaker and bowl of lemon wedges who've seen better days. Now I have to do this whole shot process like a pro, why didn't I order a beer?

"Bottoms up beautiful," he smiles before chugging back the rest of his beer and heavily placing it down on the counter.

I'll just have to wing it, no problem. Grabbing the salt I start pouring it onto the back of my hand as I watch it all slide off onto the counter, leaving me looking real stupid. Dude chuckles to himself and grabs my hand to lick the spot where I just poured the salt.

"First timer perhaps? You have to lick the hand first for the salt to stick." He grabs the salt and pours a dab onto the wet area. I'm grossed out, but in the end it was the best thing he could have done. When he touched my hand a familiar electric current hummed through me and I could tell he was definitely demon. It wasn't the same intensity of Ash's touch, not by a long shot, but it was definitely a bolt of something that sent alarm bells ringing in my non-developed spidey sense. I force a smile, lean in to lick the tangy spice and grab my shot in a swift pour down my throat; the taste and burn leaving me breathless and choking. So NOT sexy. Guy hands me a lemon indicating I need to suck on the fruit to cut the burn which I hastily grab and take a long suck on the wedge. My eyes start to water as I give up on all attempted coolness from that obvious display of inexperience.
 

"Can't stomach the stuff myself, perhaps you'd want to switch to something more your style, a sugar-y vodka concoction?"

I nod gratefully wiping the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt and clearing my throat carefully before I feel the urge to yak it all up. It wasn't more then a minute and I had a nice and easy ice cube-y drink in front of me which I gulped down a little too quickly; I could feel the heat from the vodka start to burn my cheeks already. Ok, not all is lost yet, with the booze finally came a new sense of confidence that surged through me.

"Thanks, uh, for this." I say as I indicate my new drink in a 'cheers to you' fashion.

"I guess before I start coughing all over you again, I should introduce myself. I'm Stella," I say.

"Will."
 

"You're new around here aren't you? I think I would have remembered seeing you before. In fact I would think you are a newbie in every sense of the word too. Fresh from the change aren't you?" Perceptive Will.

"Uh yeah, I am. How'd you guess?"

"I can tell." He says as he pulls up the right side of his face in a lopsided grin.

"That obvious eh?"

"Well yeah, you don't seem as jaded as the rest of us. You're time will come though, enjoy it while it lasts."

"Why would I become jaded?" I say clearly confused by meeting someone like this. How could you not be pumped about what you are?

He peers into my eyes and takes another drink from his next beer. "Give it time. Just give it time." He turns back to look at the barman and orders us two more.

The conversation was actually quite easy as we chatted about nothing and everything. He had some great stories from the 60's and 70's which came about as the playlist on the box ran through a whole bunch of songs relevant to his past. It seems Mr. Will was quite the roadie to a lot of celebs back in the day. A bad boy to the core, if only he could write a book about it.

The drinks were going down quite well for me too with no thought to how I would actually get home. It didn't seem to bother me though, I guess I had my all night pass from Dad so who cares if I had to sleep in Murries' backseat.
 

"So tell me Will, what sort of magical know-how do you possess?"

"Ahhh, can't tell yet can you? I forget that it's more of a developed ability as you get more experience under your belt. I have to admit though that you, in particular, are stumping me as well. Now that is a surprise to say the least." His raspy voice coming out more like a gravelly whisper.
 

"Well, I like to keep some secrets to myself, you know." I say coyly as he leans in a little closer to me, his beer breath exhaling in my ear.

"I bet you do sweetheart," he says with a wink. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks in response. The panic set in as it dawned on me that perhaps I have gotten a little overly flirty and he won't be content with an innocent good-bye hand shake after all. He takes my blush as an invitation and places his huge left hand on my thigh, pushing down as he moves his palm up and down my leg.
 

Let the back pedalling begin.

"Whoa there, big fella, be gentle on me, it's my first night out in like, ever," I nervously sputter which makes me even more tempting as his innocent conquest. He licks his lips and stares me down. I feel intensely embarrassed as my whole body flushes and a heat fills me up.

"Gentle isn't in my nature, but then again, I guess you might know that by now."

"Geez, it's getting quite late." I fake a yawn and pull my arms up in a stretch. "I had better get moving, but it was really nice to meet you Will." Attempting a simple slide out from his hands didn't quite work, he had me pinned in a powerful grip.

"C'mon now Stella, I thought we were getting along quite well, I don't think it's bedtime yet, or rather, sleep time. Bedtime would suit me just fine."

Ok, time to run. My pulse is racing as I realize the hole I have dug myself in this stupid, stupid move. I scan the room to see if anyone would be a good candidate for saving my sorry ass, but fall short as I notice most of the bar has left, including the old lung cancer humans. I hastily grab his arm and struggle to remove it from it's iron grip on my leg when my flush turns into a flame burning in my shoes.

It started with a simple heat, sort of like warming your toes by a campfire, but it quickly began to race up my legs, into my waist, thighs, torso, until it was enveloping me completely. The panic was evident in my face as big Will finally pulled his hand back and looked at me with a mixture of confusion and fear. I stumbled up and grabbed hold of the bar stool, searching for some answers to this unbelievable pain and seeing my hands turning bright red, like my body was filling with lava.

Suddenly the chair I was grasping burst into flames as I jerked back and stared at my hands in horror. Did I do that? I could feel my hair lift up and fly around me, whipping my face in what felt like heat lashes. Will stumbled back from the flaming stool as he continued to stare, realization setting in.

"How the... How the
Hell
did you do that?! You're a fire demon? No. Impossible! I would have known if you were like me... unless... unless you somehow took my power... " he trailed off as the bar counter started to catch fire and the booze began to pop off the shelves behind it, fuelling the blaze. He's staring at me in surprised awe and fear, when suddenly he storms through the inferno and out the front door. Thanks buddy.

The flames seem to have caught on like wildfire, pardon the pun, as the building quickly emptied out of the final patrons, leaving me to fend for myself. I can't move at all, paralyzed with this all consuming heat. I guess it's every demon for himself.

I continued to stand feebly, losing strength, stunned and alternately staring at the burning bar then back to my body as the heat licked through my clothes singing them. It was the most excruciating pain I have ever felt; like the fire was within my soul, burning me from the inside out. My blood boiled and the pain finally doubled me over sending me flailing back onto some tables and chairs, crushing them as they became fresh tinder for the fire. The sweat poured down my body in waves and I began to lose my mind. THIS is how I was going to die?
 

Consciousness slowly ebbed from me as I began to float away, oblivious to where I was anymore. I had thoughts of Dad and Gabs and Ash, and how this must be a dream. A big long dream in which I will wake from and be sad it was over, but glad that things are normal again. As my eyes shuttered closed for the last time, I see a flash of feet pounding towards me. Hmmm cool converses, I thought, before shutting down completely.

Opening my eyes has never been more difficult. I thought heaven was supposed to be all magical and happy and la la 'ish? I had to be dead, there would be no other way for me out of that mess. So why did I feel like I had been run over by a transfer truck? I attempt to roll onto my back which sends every muscle, nerve, hair follicle, hang nail, screaming in protest. I seem to be on a bed but my vision is still so blurry. Blinking away the film and focusing on the movement above me seems to help. It takes a minute to reveal it as a ceiling fan. Why would heaven need a ceiling fan, can't they get air conditioning? Oh crap, did I end up in hell?

From what I can see of the room, it certainly looks like hell. Cracked ceiling paint, peeling floral wallpaper, a very old tube TV bedecked in faux wood panels and rabbit ears atop an old crappy dresser. Hell indeed.
 

I'm laying in a bed with nothing but an old t-shirt on and my undies. I don't recognize the shirt at all, but it seems clean at least. I pull my arm up to run my fingers through my hair, away from my face and lick my sticky parched lips which are screaming for liquids. I slowly turn my head to the right and see a glass of water on the night stand, eureka.

Pulling myself up on my elbows was harder then I thought but I persevered. I flip my legs over the side of the bed and reach for the water, downing it in three gulps. Ok so it appears I'm in some sort of crappy motel room, which sends too many vividly horrific images through my brain. Definitely not heaven, but some divey, rent by the hour, place on earth wins my bet. I've seen enough crime dramas to clue into the fact that waking up half naked in a sleaze ball motel never has a good ending. I've got to get out of here.