CASTIEL'S REQUIEM

Chapter 31: Ignite

Caz stepped out of the shadows, her black leather jacket and pants blending with the night. Her freshly dyed black hair framed her pale face, and her eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity. She stopped in front of "Ignite," a supernatural night club in Lowcove, East Avery. The exclusive club was a haven for vampires, werewolves, dragons, witches, demons, Ravens, and the occasional angel.

The club's exterior was unremarkable, a nondescript building with black walls and a neon sign that pulsed like a heartbeat. But inside, the club transformed into a dimly lit lair of sensory delights. The walls were adorned with velvet drapes, and the floors were sticky with spilled drinks. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, sweat, and desire. The dance floor was a sea of writhing bodies, the music a pulsating rhythm that seemed to match the beat of Caz's own heart.

The dark-haired bouncer, a towering six-foot-nine werewolf, blocked her path. "Sorry, but you can't go in there," he said, his deep voice firm but cautious.

Caz's eyes narrowed, her temper rising. "Listen, wolf. You have ten seconds to get out of my way, or I'll send you straight to hell." Her voice was low and menacing, her eyes flashing with a cold, otherworldly light.

The werewolf nodded, recognizing the threat. He had seen his own death in her eyes and knew better than to tempt the Grim Reaper. Caz walked into the club, the heavy door closing behind her with a soft thud.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of cigarettes, marijuana, and beer. The dance floor was crowded, couples swaying to Ed Sheeran's "Shivers." Caz bypassed them, her eyes fixed on the bar, where a red-haired, heavily tattooed man was mixing drinks for a pair of vampires.

"I'll take that," Caz said, grabbing two glasses of the mixed drinks and downing them in quick succession. She dropped the glasses on the table, her eyes locked on the vampires. They fled from their barstools, abandoning their drinks.

The bartender, a gruff-looking man with a thick beard, raised an eyebrow. "You're a bold one, aren't you?" he said, his voice tinged with a hint of respect.

Caz ignored him but turned to the vampires, her eyes narrowing. They fled in terror, abandoning their drinks. Her gaze fixed on the bartender, Slim, a towering figure in a skin-tight black t-shirt with Elvis Presley's face on it. "Are you Slim?"
"Who's asking?" Slim sneered, his laid-back demeanor momentarily shifting. His pupils slitted like a snake's, and twin horns appeared on his forehead as he partially morphed into his dragon form.

"Death," Caz replied, her voice cold and detached.

Slim rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "What makes you think I'd believe that?" He laughed, but his amusement was short-lived.

Caz grasped him by the neck and slammed him into the sound system, shattering the instruments. The club fell silent, patrons watching in awe as Caz prowled toward Slim, her twin swords at the ready.

Lifting the dragon up with her left arm, she pressed one sword against his neck. "Let's try this again," she growled. "Are you Slim?"

Slim stuttered, "Y-yeah, whaddya want?"

Caz's grin was menacing. "Where's Marveseus?"

Slim wheezed out an address, "Fifteen Margaret Lane, apartment forty-one."

Caz thanked him, her smile widening. "Anytime, Death," Slim said, backing away from her in submission.

Caz walked out of the club, the crowd parting like the Red Sea. No one dared cross Death, for she could end their immortal lives with a mere touch.

***

The battlefield is a ground where angels (mostly war angels) kill off demons with the aim of stopping them from invading Golden city.