Hell's Detective

Chapter Fifteen- Mistakes

Krugo pressed a cigarette to his lips and watched the crowds litter onto the street. Cigarettes, he decided, were one of the few good things that had come out of the human race. A girl stumbled out of the nightclub, shot him a quick glance before hurrying disjointedly after her friends, and he dipped his hat, covering his face. People tended to panic when they saw the grey, scabby flesh he had where his eyes should be. He wasn't really supposed to be out in public, but Hell was getting boring. Time was it was all punishment and pain and all those goodies, and now what was it? Bleeding paperwork.

Besides, he was hungry.

More people filed out of the night club. Krugo could smell them from here. The adrenaline pumping through their veins, the alcohol on their breath. They were young, their skin still soft and plump. All he had to do now was choose.

"Want a light?" someone said behind him.

He looked over at a short, spiky haired girl leaning on the wall, and the smell of ash and blood flared through his nostrils.

"Witch," he hissed.

She shrugged. "Demon, but who's counting?"

"You may have magic, little girl," he said dangerously, "but that won't stop me killing you."

She snorted. Like the idea of her imminent death was funny. "Do you want the light or not?" she said.

Krugo wasn't entirely sure what to do. He was used to humans screaming and begging for their life when they saw him.

She held up the lighter, and he bit down on his cigarette, took it.

"So, what are you doing here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be in Hell, torturing dead people or something?"

"Hell gets old after a while," he said. "Sooner or later, people realize what they're in for. Then they stop being afraid. Just hopeless. And hopeless is boring. But here... here everyone's got their whole lives ahead of them. They want to get a good job, get married, have kids. And they're all afraid of something, because that something hasn't quite caught up with them yet. They all have things to live for. And the more you have, the more frightened you are someone's gonna take it away." He leered at her, revealing rows of sharp teeth. She didn't even flinch. "Someone like me."

"And what about you, then? What are you afraid of?"

He glanced at her. She was looking at him, dead in his sockets.

"You know, most humans would be running by now."

She grinned. She looked nice when she grinned. "I'm not most humans." She glanced back at the nightclub and made a face. "You come here often?"

"When I'm hungry."

"I hate this place," she said.

"Why?"

"There's crowds. I hate crowds."

Krugo inched closer to her. He could smell her hair now. It was a good smell, like fresh cherries. "Then maybe we should go somewhere less crowded."

She smiled. "Less crowded sounds good."

They walked together, Krugo keeping his hat well over his eyes, and she turned down a tight alley way. Then, without warning, she stopped.

"Why'd you-" Krugo began, but she pressed a finger to his lips. It was warm, and he could feel it after she took it away. He reached out to touch that beautiful hair and realized his arm couldn't move, but nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing. His arm wouldn't move. His legs, either. He was completely frozen.

"What have you done?" he snarled.

"Just an immobilizing spell, nothing fancy," she said modestly.

"I'll kill you!" he hissed, and tried to lunge, but his body stayed dead still. It was like he was ramming on the lid of his own coffin.

"Yeah, good luck with that," she muttered.

He was about to tell her exactly what he was going to do to her when he got free, but then Ingleseid stepped out of the shadows.

"Hey, man." He grinned, and pain exploded in Krugo's side.

He dragged his eyes down and saw the hilt of a silver blade protruding from his stomach, black blood gushing around it.

Krugo screamed.