Wayne had to stop himself from pulling out his wand and bathing the neighboring seat in flames. The man sitting next to him slipped into the bar and onto the stool without so much as a whisper. Wayne didn’t even notice the door opening. Quite a feat given the bells attached to it.
He was a rough man with a scraggly goatee much in need of a good trim. The worn trench coat he wore smelled distinctly of sulfur.
A slip of paper found its way into Wayne’s hands.
His own enchanted note. Designed to be noticed even when hidden. Wayne tore it to pieces before it could attract the eyes of the rest of the bar’s patrons.
The self-proclaimed demonologist watched as Wayne withdrew his wand and smokelessly incinerated the remains.
“I take it that was meant for me?” he asked.
“If it was meant for Spencer or her spider, I would have gone to them.”
“They might have gone back to the prison.”
“Naranga was livid when she found Spencer out of bed. That anger grew while she was gone. I doubt they’ll leave the infirmary any time soon.”
“I didn’t realize Arachne was gone for some time. The message might have been meant for it–though why, I’ve no idea. It wasn’t until I found a second note outside my cell house that I thought the note might have been for me.”
“Didn’t know your name. Didn’t want to write down anything incriminating. Just stuck one around the entrance to every building.”
A grimace crossed his face. “Every building?”
“Yeah. Why? Someone else live there?”
He stood up. “I should go before–”
Had there been live music, it surely would have screeched to a halt when the front door slammed open. Wayne half expected the weather to acknowledge the ominous presence standing in the doorway. It had been sunny all day; no such dramatic thunder rattled the walls.
Something about her sent chills up Wayne’s spine.
She had to almost bend over just to duck through the doorway. When she got through, every head in the pub that wasn’t already looking because of her loud entrance turned to face her.
For good reason.
She stood nearly eight feet tall. Mere inches saved her head from scraping against the ceiling. Her platinum hair blew behind her in a nonexistent wind. More than a few strands fell down her front, reaching all the way to her navel.
Two thin sheets of fabric hung from her neck. They managed to cover only the most essential of essentials before joining together a few inches below her hairline. From there it formed a long dress that reminded Wayne of his sister’s wedding.
The demonologist dropped back into his seat with a groan as the woman’s cold eyes turned to their group.
Wayne realized what was bothering him as she glided towards him. Where a normal person had blue veins running up and down their arms, this woman had black veins. She had no subtle rise and fall of her chest in a telltale sign of breathing.
He had to stop himself from shuddering again when she stopped a few paces from the bar.
“You are the one who requested Our presence.” Her voice carried throughout the room, further commanding the attention of everyone.
Not quite everyone. Half of the couple stared intently at the woman. The other half was trying to kill her partner with a glare.
“Ylva,” the demonologist said before Wayne could formulate a response, “does Eva know you’re here?”
There was a brief flash of anger in her otherwise dull eyes as she turned her head towards him. “Eva is not Our minder. We deign to respect her domain of Our own volition.”
“So you choose to disrespect it when it suits you?”
Her hand snapped around the demonologist’s neck. Black fingernails dug into his skin. Rasping chokes escaped his throat as curls of decaying skin spread out from the contact.
Before Wayne could decide if intervening would lead to anything but his own death, the black skin retreated to Ylva’s fingertips leaving a faint trail of gray. She released him with a light thrust.
“Do not malign Our honor, Devon Foster. We were under a,” her blue lips curled into a small smile as she glanced at Wayne, “deadline. Reparations will be sought.”
Devon coughed twice, rubbing his neck where her fingers had touched it.
“Wow, Wayne. These are the people you were waiting for?”
Wayne turned to find Tom standing in the hallway. Even as he addressed Wayne, Tom’s neck craned to stare at the woman.
“That room ready?”
“Yeah, just follow me.”
Tom backed down the corridor, keeping his eyes on Ylva as she followed after him.
A hand clasped down on Wayne’s shoulder before he could follow.
