A Hand in Hell

Chapter 16

The throbbing in my head and body ebbed just a bit as I staggered out of the early afternoon sun and into the dimly lit interior of Furboy's bar. The man himself — the fuck was his name again? — was at his post behind the counter, chatting with the two lonely patrons off to one side, but when the door swung shut with a heavy thud he must've heard a thousand times before, he turned to me, and his eyes grew wide.

"Your horns," he said, nearly in awe. "And your hair."

I stumbled to the bar, my sweaty, blood-stickied palms smacking onto the countertop as I came to rest against it. "Do you know where she is?" I rasped, even as a thick strand of the snow-white hair he was so fascinated by fell into my face.

"Who?" he asked, eyes still gliding along my curling horns as he frowned. "What happened to you?"

I let out a soft snarl and squeezed my eyes shut. Worn from the battle as I was — what had even happened? I couldn't completely remember — it took some serious concentration to finish transitioning back into my human form, my horns retreating into my head with the feeling of a snake slithering into my skull and my white hair returning to its platinum blonde hue. I opened my eyes, and I was pleased to find that his attention was on my sunglasses and not my scalp.

"The human, you daft-ass fuck," I growled, slamming my palms down again, this time with purpose. "Lauren. Where is she?"

His eyes widened even as his brows furrowed in anger. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I don't keep track of your pets."

My hand darted across the counter before I could stop it, and I jerked him toward me with a fist tightly balled in his shirtfront. "You've been nothing but useless since this business with the Council started. If you want me to turn you back to normal, you pathetic sack of slug shit, you need to hold up your end of the bargain in some fucking way." I pulled him closer, dragging his body across the bar until his furry face was inches from my own. "I know you know something. You always do."

"All right, fine!" he shouted, seemingly exasperated, but I could smell the fear oozing through his mane. "She came in here earlier, all out of breath. Asked me what she could do to escape a demon." I dropped him back behind the counter, and he cleared his throat as he fixed the front of his shirt and settled back in to his post.

"And what did you tell her?" I urged him, grasping the edge of the counter in a white-knuckled grip.

"I told her the truth, that there's no way to escape a demon once its caught your scent, especially in your case." He rolled his eyes. "She went on about wanting to get away from the Council, wanting to go back to her family, blah, blah, blah, but my answer was the same, and she still went on and on and on. I finally gave her the address of a warehouse a couple of my old buddies have been stationed at as of late, professionals in the field of disappearing." He shrugged, hands resting on the counter, and his eyes followed his other patrons as they left the bar, the door swinging shut with that familiar thump behind them. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but they've probably offed her by now. They're no demons, but —"

"What?!" I shrieked, and my fingers finally broke through the bar, tearing out a hefty chunk of the counter. I clenched it tightly in my hands as I bared my teeth at him, but he wasn't cowering like he should've been. "What exactly did you send her to? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"They're just vampires," he said, averting his gaze uncomfortably. "They were staking out the area for a local coven that's been in need of a new hideout, and I thought they might need a nice meal." He met my eyes again, and my body grew so hot that I felt like I was taking an enraged nap on the sun. "I mean, technically, I did help her out with her problem. The only way to escape a demon is to die before they sink their claws into you."