I'd been on my own for six months now; I didn't care how long the men's parties lasted or what they did; I was over it, and I knew I was supposed to be a flea, a leader, and save people. Now I hadn't been to a fight club until the end of the week and my weekdays were spent planning and doing gigs. I went to a fuckload of gigs. Me, Jake, Rob, Ruby, Sapphire, Penn, and Burt, and the gigs went well.
Murdock was teaching Burt to be his apprentice, as he was pretty good with guns. One day a week, I did the Reddington gigs; they were a change of pace again, and I had a lady with me. Lady had a great time at the gigs, and everyone at the base loved my snow leopard. Jake and Rob competed to see who could give the lady the most meat.
The lady could be in the big hall where everyone was planning, or she might want to come into my study and lie on the sofa. Mirella didn't come out. She was very much on my mind now and was putting the molecular stock in order. I went around the house wherever I could, taking the medical samples and all the medical equipment I had in my safe.
We planned the gigs, always taking everything into account, and then we also got the loot when we raided, preferably supplies from Sark's institutions. Of course, Murdock didn't feel the need to be around all the time, as he and Dexter were still chasing Sark. I talked to Jarod on the phone weekly, and he had a good time. When I told him about my feline side, he sent me catnip mice and cat food.
I found myself back at another bar, discreetly observing. Clad in a sleek black leather jacket and now leather pants, I paired it with a vibrant red silk top. The jacket concealed my trusty gun and dagger effortlessly. My short, blond hair cascaded loosely around my face, framing my bangs and accentuated by the bold makeup. Sipping on a glass of crisp white wine, I focused my attention on my intended target. However, my usual arrogance and overconfidence in my abilities landed me in a precarious situation.
The bar, like any other, exuded a variety of scents. The air was a melange of different odors - the sharp tang of deodorants, the musk of sweat, and the distinct aroma of various alcoholic beverages. Occasionally, a hint of coffee wafted through the air, signaling the presence of someone opting for sobriety. Couples occupied several tables, but I paid them little mind. Vampire women populated some tables, piquing my curiosity as to whether one of them might be linked to Damon's phone.
The tiled floor bore stains, evidence of countless spilled drinks. Dim lighting cast a mysterious ambiance, and photographs adorned the walls, capturing fleeting moments frozen in time. At the far end of the bar, a darts table and pool table provided entertainment. Somewhere in the background, faint music played, its melodies muffled by the lively chatter. Behind the bar counter, a diligent woman in her sixties skillfully poured drinks for patrons while a man assisted her. The bar itself was sizable, attracting a diverse crowd.
I diligently observed the surrounding individuals, contemplating their actions and motives. My pretender side lazily analyzed each person, allowing my mind to wander while never losing sight of my target. I had assigned Rob and Jake to Los Angeles, accompanied by Penn and Burt. They specialized in dealing with the demons who still operated slave shops, a task I considered unsuitable for myself. Because those had fear demons on them, I would be a liability in those missions as -I was susceptible to fear demons. My focus was solely on my aim, eagerly anticipating the pursuit.
As I sat in the bar, sipping my wine, my eyes wandered around the room, taking in the patrons. I couldn't help but wonder about their stories, their lives, and the secrets they held. Some wore masks, their expressions betraying nothing, while others wore their hearts on their sleeves. I studied their gestures and body language, trying to discern who might hide something, who might look for comfort, and who might be deeply in love. I imagined their professions, their relationships, and the trials and tribulations they might be facing. How many of them were genuinely happy, and how many were just going through the motions? As I pondered these questions, I realized that everyone in the bar had a story to tell, a life to live, and a journey to undertake.
I glanced at a table near the dimly lit back wall of the smoky bar. Three figures sat there, emanating an aura of mystery. As I observed them, a sense of unease washed over me, hinting that these individuals were not quite what they appeared to be. Two of the men, with their predatory gazes, resembled hound dogs stalking their prey - unmistakably demon hunters. However, when he was not a man at all, the third man exuded an otherworldly presence. He was an angel, strong and resilient, his jet-black hair and tired expression concealed beneath a trench coat.
The taller of the two humans was a striking figure, with his lean frame and chiseled features. His hair was slightly longer than most men's and fell in soft waves around his face. His piercing brown eyes, however, told a different story - they were filled with a depth of suffering and hardship that he had endured.
The other human, donning a denim jacket, was a stark contrast to the first. With his broad shoulders and square jawline, he exuded an air of toughness and decisiveness. But there was something else about him that caught my attention—an underlying tenderness visible in the way he spoke to others and carried himself. It was almost as if he was trying to protect something fragile within himself.
Curiously, the angel's disguise consisted of a trench coat, a seemingly comical choice. I pondered whether angels adhered to any dress code at all. With a sense of amusement, I continued observing the trio until one of the weaker demons departed, prompting the others to follow suit.
The departing demon, originating from the depths of hell, would possess a human vessel, requiring an exorcism or facing its own blade. Yet, not all humans were saved from its clutches. However, I had a grander target in mind - a level 8 demon from another dimension. Capturing this demon would bring me closer to their elusive boss once again.
The demon at the table finished his drink and made his way back to the bar for a refill. It was my cue to make my move. Gracefully, I rose from my seat, the distinct click of my high-heeled boots resonating through the air. I sauntered over to the bar, purposefully alluring.
The demon's gaze traveled from my head to my toes before he spoke, his voice laced with intrigue. "What can I get you, Bunny? I'll cover the tab."
A seductive smile played on my lips as I replied in a husky tone, "A Tequila Sunrise, darling. I live life on the edge. Care to find me a worthy match? I crave challenges in my existence."
The demon paused for my anticipation.
The reason my little game went so well was because people were stupid. People wanted to play with danger, and if there was a demon, then even if you didn't realize it was a demon, it made people, especially women, uninhibited. And heaven forbid if they still knew someone was a demon. Some people just have a suicidal tendency so much.
So if you started flirting with a demon to be pretty straightforward, then yes, these caught on. Who is this Nicodemus then? This is the big boss. Now I just heard his name for the first time. Well, at least it's now on my list, and I'll get on it as soon as I get this one out of the day.
I finished my drink, and the demon was getting pretty intense. He was blowing in my ear and brushing my arm and my sleeve. I walked lazily and slowly out of the bar, like I was in no hurry.
The demon walked ahead of me, and I said, " Here, come on, show me what you're made of, and then I'll know this isn't just a waste of time."
The demon came eagerly, and I spun it against the wall while plunging the demon dagger deep into its heart. I let my eyes show me for what I was: a hybrid. I had golden eyes and black veins around my eyes. The demon, looking at me, couldn't say a word as it died and turned to jelly.
I took the phone that was left. I wiped my dagger and put the phone in a plastic bag, made sure I didn't step on the demon goo, and walked to my car. Well done. The phone will help me track down Nicodemus.
As I walked by, my attention was drawn to an angel and two men who appeared to have witnessed the entire incident. I couldn't help but feel uneasy, but at the same time, I sensed they wouldn't harm me. They were sitting in a large Chevy Impala, which caught my attention, and I couldn't help but smile as yet another TV series came to life before my eyes.
The two men were looking at me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. I sensed they might try to flirt with me, so I kept my guard up and walked past them as quickly as possible. Despite their unsettling demeanor, a part of me wondered if we would ever cross paths again.
I got into my car and drove away, determined to carry on my search for Nicodemus. As I drove, I couldn't help but think about the strange encounter with the angel and the two men. What were they doing there? Were they there to help me or hinder me? These thoughts lingered in my mind as I continued on my journey.
I went about my business as I searched for Nicodemus, which was still unloading on me. I went from state to state looking for clues and fight clubs. I went through a lot of fight clubs and got a pretty damn excellent reputation. And I had three fans: those guys and that angel. I had now spotted this trio at six different clubs and thought they must have nothing better to do.
I'd always put fleas on to make sure there was no fear demon at or near the club. I hated I had a weakness. Very, very deeply. I didn't care if the men were done partying or not. I went through the clubs, destroying demons in search of this Nicodemus. I was on a mission to take down Nicodemus, and rumors about him had been circulating for a while. My desire to catch him grew stronger every day.
One day, while I was busy with my search, Dresden called me and cautioned me about going after Nicodemus. He advised me to inform him of any new findings before taking action, as he was a professional and had more experience with this sort of thing.
At the time, I brushed off his warning, thinking I could handle whatever challenges lay ahead. After all, I had already defeated a considerable number of demons that day. I couldn't imagine anything more dangerous than that. It's always the men who are overprotective, I thought to myself, as I continued on my mission.