Our Demonic Hearts - The Craven Pact Book 1

Chapter 6 - Bailiwick

Now that she sat in front of the motel, Ana was beginning to regret her decision.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she looked at the dingy exterior of the two-story motel. Wooden doors, dirty windows, and faded blue paint greeted her as she tried to calm her beating heart, her leg bouncing anxiously. He didn't even give me a room number. How am I supposed to know where he is? Go door-to-door?

She pried her clammy fingers from the steering wheels and took a deep breath. Before she could second-guess the decision for the millionth time, she swung open the truck door and stepped out. She closed it shut behind her, jumping at the loud bang. She scolded herself for being so jumpy, and patted her pants pocket for a cigarette—but she didn't have any. She hadn't carried smokes with her in awhile, but that habit still stayed with her.

She quickly shook her head and walked briskly to the main office. No cigarettes. You're on you own.

She pulled open the door and walked inside, her face being hit with a blast of cold hair. The desk clerk, a middle-aged woman with mousy brown hair and messy lipstick, was sitting behind the counter and playing solitaire. Upon seeing Ana enter, she closed the game and beamed a smile at her

"Well, hello! How are you doing today, hon?"

She gave her her best smile despite her low energy. "I'm good, thank you. I'm supposed to meet somebody here, but he didn't tell me his room number. Can you, perhaps...?"

The clerk frowned. "I'm sorry, but we're not allowed to give out that information. For the privacy of the occupant, and whatnot."

Ana sighed and leaned against the counter with her elbows. She faced her palms in the air, and focused on the intricate lines. "I didn't want to have to do this, but...how do you feel about your brain being turned into mush?"

"Wha...?" The poor woman barely had time to react before Ana reached out and placed her palms on her cheeks. Mageia flowed from her palms and into the woman's face, decorating her skin with purple lines and swirls. Her hazel eyes became glossy and her mouth hung open.

"Good," Ana breathed, still feeling worn out from last night's training. "Now, tell me what room Beau Motloe is staying in."

"I don't know that name." The clerk murmured, her voice sounding distant.

Ana sighed. "Black hair, same height as me, brown eyes, sort of an awkward weirdo, looks native American?"

The clerk's eyes lit up for a moment. "Oh. Four or five days ago. He had funny hands like yours. Paid for a room for a few weeks and said not to bother him. He's in room 202, the first door up the stairs."

Ana beamed. "See, was that so hard? Now, you'll forget that I was ever here, and you'll forget what I did to you in the next few seconds. Understand?"

The clerk nodded numbly. Ana quickly let go of her face and walked out of the chilly room, wiping greasy concealer on her jeans with a disgusted frown.

She ascended the steps two at a time, her heart racing as the thought of what she was about to do reached the front of her brain again. If Marchosias found out...she would be in serious trouble.

She stopped in front of the door. Room 202, the sign said. The window was covered, and she couldn't tell if there was a light on inside. Was he even in there?

Her hands shook as she raised them to the door and knocked twice. Silence for a brief moment, before she heard footsteps walk to the door. It didn't open however, and Ana was left wondering if she had the right door after all. She looked at the window, but the curtains did not move.