![]() I held out my hands for the items and she dropped them on the counter with an unapologetic, “Oops.” 9mm Glock complete with a full magazine of blessed bullets and a silencer, and a worn out page of the Bible. The coat-check girl gave me a second unfriendly look as I returned with my ticket stub to retrieve my things-three vials of holy water, a black rosary with the beads made of onyx and the cross made of wood, a Smith & Wesson. Then, I walked out of the bathroom and back to the front entrance. I took the leather gloves in the pocket of my duster out and pulled them on. I looped the loose curls around into a messy bun and made sure they wouldn’t tumble free if I shook my head too hard. I gathered my shoulder-length black hair into a high ponytail. Thankfully, it was empty, so I whipped out my phone and dialed the first number in my Recent Call list. A couple called out to me, asking if I’d let them have a taste, but I didn’t spare them a glance. I kept a quick, confident stride as I went, ignoring the whispers of the fallen angels in my wake. I turned around, walking back through the bar. “Know anybody by the name of Matthias Gruber?” He tapped his fingers against the pool cue and then shrugged one shoulder. My gaze lifted to the bald spot at the top of his head surrounded by peroxide blonde locks. Just one question and I’m out of your hair forever.” This place is for fallen angels only, sweetheart. I don’t want trouble.”Īgain, he snorted, but this time smoke shot from his nostrils, which made him look like an albino dragon. “Just here to ask a question, that’s all. ![]() “I could start to examine the literary significance of your name, or I could ask what the hell you’re doing in my bar,” he said after knocking one of the balls into the left corner pocket. Each of them was over six feet tall and were all muscle where he was all fat. He stood up and walked over to the pool table beside him where he and five of his lackeys had gathered. “Clearly,” the demon said, tucking a fat cigar in one corner of his mouth. He finally met my gaze and snorted before continuing. His beady black eyes started at my ankles and dragged upward, past my dark jeans, across my black turtleneck sweater, and over the grey duster around me that was two sizes too big. Acid-washed jeans clung to his stumpy legs and his boots were at least twice the size of mine. He overflowed the bar stool with his gelatinous stomach, just barely contained by a white dress shirt and an oversized leather jacket. ![]() You’re the famous Jordan Amador.” The demon sitting in front of me looked like someone filled a pig bladder with rotten cottage cheese. “Honest to God, I hadn’t meant to start a bar fight.
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