Marked (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {2}

3. Bar Fight

3. Bar Fight

Everything seems so heightened: the loud music in this bar, human laughter, even the sound of the plumbing in the restrooms. The smell of alcohol makes my nose wrinkle, and the smell of some of the food makes my stomach growl.

After about a day or two of extra training, Franco had deemed me ready for my first act of chaos. During those two days, I embraced the darkness in me. I embraced being a demon. They counteracted the things that kept trying to surface in my mind, like those three faces, and two others. One had been an older man, I assumed it was possible he was my father. And there had been a woman: blonde hair, kind face, green eyes. I assumed that she was my mother.

On top of faces, some scenes came to me. The memories incapacitated me for quite some time, so Franco let me be as I worked through those muddled memories. Some involved non-human beings. All those scenes were seen from my eyes—my past life's eyes. I know for sure now that this body is not the one I was born with. In one of my memories, I looked into a mirror, and a blonde, brown-eyed girl had stared right back at me.

I'd taken a look at myself in the restroom mirror. My hair is long, thicker, and dark. My face is structured different, and I have pale green eyes. This body is definitely not mine. This is not the body I had died in.

Franco and I linger at the bar, a few drinks already downed by the both of us. We pick on some greasy nachos that we're able to down. I only say this because demons and salt don't mix, not when the salt is in huge quantities. If it's minimal in food, it's easy to overlook.

"You want to just wreck the place?" I ask amidst the chatter. "Cause a massacre? I'm game. Or we could start a fight and watch them tear each other apart."

Franco chuckles. "That enthusiasm is really adorable on you."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, shut up." I pop a soaked nacho into my mouth. So far, we've been lying low.

It's the middle of the day, but I can tell from the shadows in the bar that the sun is starting to set. I lick my lips. My veins are burning with the desire to cause chaos. Why not? That's what I do now. It's what demons are supposed to do. My past doesn't matter, no matter what I see.

"How about we pick a fight?" Franco suggests. "Or, I start a fight, you pick your first kill. Gets your feet wet, you know?"

"You sure I'm ready for that?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Aves, with what you've showed me over the past few days, you're more than ready. Now it's time to completely cross over. Make the transition complete, in a way."

"Hmm." I sip on my beer bottle. "How about you start, and I follow your lead?"

"Mm, all right. Challenge accepted." Franco tips his bottle back, downing the rest of it. He looks around the bar, and I get taken aback as he launches the empty bottle at someone down at the other end of the bar. We hear a crash, and some startled cries, some loud cursing.

"You couldn't have just started a fight with me and then have it branch off from there?" I hiss to him.

"Hey, you said you'd follow my lead."

"Hey, asshole!" a lean man about the size of Franco comes charging over, flecks of broken beer bottle still in his hair.

"Oh, sorry, man. Bottle slipped," says Franco. I watch in interest.