by Lisa Sanchez
Switching gears from friend mode to demon hunter, I grabbed hold of my bag and pulled it over my head so it hung across my body, and made my way over toward the bar.
Along with levitation, telekinesis (the ability to move objects magically with my mind), and a kick ass power surge, I possessed the ability to alter or glamour the appearance of objects — people included. No surprise, this was an ability my friends liked to take advantage of whenever we went out. I’d been pumping out a steady stream of Jimmy Choos, Manolo Blahniks, and magically enhanced boobage for the past three months. Who needed Dr. 90210 when they had me around?
My powers also gave me a sort of sixth sense. I perceived most evil when it was near, though some I really had to focus to pinpoint. It didn’t help that the greater the evil, the more capable that evil was of masking its presence. Young vampires and lesser demons were easy to pick out of a crowd, but it was the monsters who roamed the earth for centuries that were most capable of eluding me. Damn, filthy bastards!
I took a seat at the far right end of the bar and turned, peering out into the massive crowd. Dozens of bodies, hot, writhing, and slick with sweat, gyrated and swayed to the relentless techno beat blaring from the club’s speakers. Nothing. I felt…nothing. Crap. What the hell? Normally my “spidey sense,” as Jessica often referred to it, went off like crazy. Why would tonight be any different? I chewed on the inside of my lip, my tongue playing with the L-shaped backing of the tiny diamond stud just below my lip-line. I’d switched out the silver ring earlier in an effort to look softer, if that was at all possible.
As I stared into the crowd, I felt someone’s eyes on me again. The warm, tugging sensation I’d felt on numerous occasions recently slammed into me with gusto, along with the feeling that everything and everyone around me moved ten times slower than normal. A ripple of warmth rushed through my veins, setting my skin on fire while simultaneously sending a chill rocketing up the length of my spine.
Never. I’d never felt anything like it. Whatever the feeling was, it was very intense. Slowly, I turned my gaze to the left, looking over my shoulder toward the far end of the bar. My breath caught, and it was in that exact moment that everything changed. My life as I knew it would never be the same.
Standing behind the bar to the far left was a man (later I’d find out otherwise) who appeared to be in his early twenties. Tall, deeply tan, with short, dark brown hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and a face that could only be described as angelic, he was easily the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on. He stood with his back against the bar, ignoring the thirsty party-goers. With his arms folded casually against his chest, he burned a hole into me with his heated gaze.
Holy…Stunned, I looked away as a shockwave of desire ping-ponged around my chest and zapped a straight line down to my hoo-hah. My mouth went dry. He couldn’t possibly be looking at me. Hell, guys didn’t stare at me like that — ever. I shifted in my seat and fanned myself with my hands. Had they jacked up the heat in here? Why was it so damn hot?
God. Those eyes. I felt them boring into the side of my face, the intensity of it melting my superstructure into a gelatinous mush. Clearly, I was imagining things.
Determined to prove my body’s reaction wrong, I stared out into the crowd, willing my “spidey senses” to get their shit together and zoom in on an underworld dirtbag so I could do my thing. My body, evidently, didn’t feel like cooperating. The sensation remained, becoming even more intense with every second that passed. Shit. Swallowing hard, I chanced another look over my shoulder to see the handsome stranger walking toward me.
All the air in my lungs left in one swift whoosh, and I was sure I’d need a fresh set of panties ASAP. This guy, whoever he was, was hot. He had the smooth, commanding gait of a powerful predator. Bad boy was capable of murder and all kinds of delicious mayhem. If I was certain of anything, it was that this guy was bad. Really bad. He had my heart racing, my blood pumping, and my panties all tied up in knots.
The faint memory of my great-grandmother’s voice popped into my head. Close your mouth, Peanut, before you catch a fly. I slammed my jaw closed. Drooling over the hot bartender wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good. Guys like him didn’t go for girls like me.
The heavens broke out into song when he opened his mouth, and I was sure I’d never heard a more perfect voice.
“What can I get you to drink, beautiful?”
His tone was deep and rich, with a hint of an accent — Latin maybe, though I wasn’t sure and didn’t really care. I was sure, however, that I wanted him to speak again, regardless of what he said. He could recite the alphabet in Cantonese for all I cared, just so long as he spoke.
Mr. Oh-So-Easy-On-The-Eyes was altogether too much. Not only did he look and sound heaven-sent, he smelled like a warm summer day: woodsy, fresh, and cool. Eau de Sex as far as I was concerned. Sticky sweat covered my palms, and I fidgeted some more on my perch, a warm flush inching its way across my skin for all to see. I was running on complete overload and was sure I’d end up a molten puddle of goo at any moment. Holy hell. What is wrong with me?
My body’s response to him up close was a thousand times stronger than it had been when he stood across the bar. My heart jumped around in my chest like a yippy dog begging for a bone, and I found it increasingly hard to breathe. The attraction I felt for him was raw, powerful, and for sure unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I definitely experienced lust at first sight, because I wanted nothing more than to hop over the bar, peel his clothing off with my teeth and hop on pop.
Get a grip, Martha. You don’t know this guy from Adam…
Dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black button down shirt, the man oozed sex. Hot sex, and raw, carnal pleasure — all things I knew nothing about.
Why is it so friggin hot in here?
The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and boy, oh, boy, did my eyes ever feast themselves on his sun-kissed, muscled-up and, might I add, lickably smooth chest. His long sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his well-toned forearms.
I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, fighting the overwhelming urge to lean forward and lick the golden skin encasing his muscular arms. If he tasted half as good as he looked, I was in for one hell of a ride.
The pleasant sound of his chuckling yanked me from my fantasy.
Curses! He caught me checking out his goods! I looked up to answer him and was lost. The rest of his body was nothing in comparison to the large pair of caramel brown eyes holding my gaze. His deep golden stare was nothing short of mesmerizing.
The corners of his mouth turned up, and he raised an eyebrow. “I see my boyish good looks have stunned you into silence.”
“Oh…I…uh…” Shit. I stumbled over my words, my tongue feeling as though it were too big for my mouth, my brain on complete lockdown. “What did you want?” I bit my lip and ran my hand along the smooth surface of the bar, desperately trying to hide the fact that I felt like a complete moron. I’d lost control, gave into a hormonal shame spiral, and drooled all over myself the moment I saw him. What the hell was wrong with me? I never lost my cool around guys. I never lost my cool around anyone. But then again, no guy had ever looked at me the way the hot bartender looked at me now. Who was he?
“I just thought you might be thirsty. You are sitting at a bar, after all.” He tapped his knuckles on the polished wooden surface before me.
Duh, Martha. Idiot…
Prickly heat crawled up my neck and onto my face. “Sorry,” I said with a nervous laugh. Okay, I was more than nervous; I was nauseated. This guy, whoever he was, had my hormones spewing forth at regular intervals like Old Faithful.
Desperate to save face, I dug around in my bag to procure some money. “I’ll, uh…I’ll have a Coke.” At twenty-one, I was old enough to drink, but never did. Alcohol induced stupors weren’t exactly helpful when fighting demo
ns. I needed to keep a clear head, and left the Jaeger bombs for the Barbie types.
With a slight nod and a wicked grin, the handsome bartender went about getting my drink, his eyes never leaving mine as he completed his task. And what lovely eyes they were — warm, like melted chocolate, both sinful and inviting. A girl could get lost in a pair of eyes like those.
He slid my soda across the counter a few moments later. His smirk clued me in to the fact he was fully aware I was, indeed, eye-fucking him. “My treat, carino.” He gave me another panty-dropping grin before leaving to help someone else.
I downed the soda, regretting my decision to hold off on the tequila. Liquid courage was just what I needed. Holy sh…Who is he? And wait…Carino? What did he just call me?
As I spun the ice filled glass on the smooth surface of the bar, I couldn’t help but think that maybe a night out on the town wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Latin bartender guy was smoking hot. I didn’t have a damn clue how to interact with him, but the attention was a welcome change. Most guys treated me like I was invisible.
As I was about to take a sip of my drink, a cool tingling sensation slithered up the length of my spine, setting the tiny hairs on the back of my neck on end.
Bingo. Evil alert!
I turned just as Jessica sidled up to the bar, a bit red-faced from dancing and fanning herself.
Panicked, I narrowed my eyes and shouted over the loud music. “Where’s Taylor?” There was some seriously evil mojo wafting through the club, growing stronger and larger by the moment. I needed to get to work, but wasn’t about to take off until I knew both my friends were safe and accounted for.
Jess cupped her hands over her mouth, forming a makeshift megaphone and shouted, “She met a hottie.” She angled her body away from me and pointed toward the far end of the club.
My heart jumped into my throat. No! Taylor, flushed and smiling, was walking toward the bathrooms with a preppy looking frat boy, who, along with a pair of skinny jeans and a fugly shirt, possessed an aura reeking of moral depravity. “Shit!” I set my glass down on the bar and hopped off the stool. I had to get to her before it was too late.
Wigged out, Jessica grabbed hold of my arm and yanked. “What? Martha? What is it?”
I didn’t have time to spell it out for her. The so-called “hottie” Taylor found was most definitely a demon of some sort, vamp most likely, and if I didn’t get to her in time, Taylor was in serious doo-doo.
I ripped my arm from her steely grip. “Stay where you are,” I shouted over my shoulder. Darting in and out of the bustling crowd, I raced toward the corridor leading to the bathrooms and rear exit. Before I could reach them, a large swarm of over-processed sausage jockeys descended onto the dance floor, blocking my view.
I lost sight of Taylor and her unworthy companion, and was stopped by a wall of pissed off, holier-than-thou skanks led by none other than Nasty Betty herself.
I scowled. “How the hell did you get in here?” I did my best to push past Nasty Betty as she stared at me with an icy glare. I was certain, after her missing ID debacle, that I’d been spared her annoying presence.
Betty sneered at me like I was road-kill or something equally nasty she needed to scrape off her shoe. “Please, freak. The question is: how did your sorry ass get in here?”
You can bet your ass I wanted to throw down with Betty and her nastier-than-shit attitude. But Taylor’s life was more important, and she was running out of time. “I don’t have time for your pathetic crap. Move!” Aggravated and pissed off she’d wasted precious time, I slammed the heel of my boot down onto Betty’s strappy sandaled foot with everything I had. No surprise, she let out a vicious shriek and doubled over in pain while I made a break for the exit.
God, I love my Docs!
A few people crowded the narrow hallway where the bathrooms were located, but Taylor was nowhere to be seen. I threw open the door to the women’s bathroom, pounded on several of the stalls and hollered for my friend.
“Taylor!” I received several snappy responses, but nothing from my roomie.
Crap…
I repeated my actions in the men’s bathroom, disregarding the drunken idiot hanging onto a urinal with one hand, while he whizzed all over the floor. Blegh! Men are gross!
“Taylor!” Dammit! I got the same result as the women’s restroom: a whole lot of nada. The creep must have taken her out the back exit. The dull ache in my chest reinforced what my mind had been trying to deny. Taylor wasn’t just up shit creek with no paddle, she was floundering about with no boat, no oar, and no life vest.
Preparing myself for a fight, I unzipped my bag and pulled out Chuck. That bad boy had dusted more vamps than I could remember, and I wanted it in my palm, ready at a moment’s notice. A zing of power swept through me as I gripped the weapon in my hand. Without hesitation, I stepped out the back exit and shouted into the inky darkness. “Taylor!”
I heard a muffled whimper in the distance, and I took off down the dark alley toward the source of the noise.
The alley came to a dead end, the only light coming from the full moon above, making it near impossible to see my surroundings. Thankfully, I had my magic to help with the piss poor lighting. Extending my empty hand out before me, I cast a spell summoning light from the lamps lining the streets opposite the alley. “Adeo mihi oh benevolens lux lucis.” A bright, luminescent orb formed just above my palm, growing larger and brighter, and rising up so that it illuminated the entire alleyway. My blood boiled as I took in the scene before me.
Taylor’s undead man-candy held her against the brick wall of an adjacent building by her throat, her precious Manolo Blahniks dangling a good foot off the ground as she desperately fought to free herself.
My vision tunneled, my body and mind shifting into ass kicking mode. “Let her go.” With teeth clenched and adrenaline pumping through my veins, I widened my stance in preparation for the fight that would inevitably ensue. The plasma-challenged monster manhandling Taylor was gonna get the beating of his undead existence. And oh yeah, I was gonna enjoy it. No one messed with my friends.
The vampire sneered and gripped Taylor’s neck even tighter as it mocked me. “And who do you think you are? Buffy? You gonna slay me, little girl?” Dressed like an Abercrombie model in strategically ripped skinny jeans and a striped button down shirt, the vamp was definitely a looker with blond hair and steely blue eyes. More than likely he’d been a major player back when his heart still carried a beat, and was now using his good looks to attract women for an entirely different reason.
I swallowed hard, and adjusted my grip on Chuck. If the bastard thought I was scared, he was sorely mistaken. I’d taken down an Alû demon a week ago. Those bastards were leprous and oozed poisonous goop from their open wounds. Preppy fang boy was a piece of cake in comparison.
“Actually, I’ve always been more of a Willow.” I threw my arm out, using my magic to slam the vampire against the same brick wall he’d pinned Taylor against. The unexpected force of the blow caused the vamp to lose his grip on Taylor, who fell to a heap on the filthy pavement.
Gasping for air, Taylor scrambled out of the way as I stalked toward the vampire.
“Kiss your ass goodbye, fang face,” I shouted. Just as I reared my arm back to plunge Chuck into the vampire’s chest, a low chuckle carried across the breeze. A hard blow to the upper back knocked me off my feet. I lurched forward, crashing into a nearby pile of trash.
“Martha!” Taylor screamed.
I shot up off the pavement, mentally cringing at the filth I’d just climbed out of. “Get out of here,” I shouted, while looking up into the surly face of another hungry vamp. Shit…
“Fang face?” Vampire Number Two mocked. “You couldn’t come up with a better insult for my boy than ‘fang face?’ I’m almost embarrassed for you.” His lips pulled back into a sneer revealing a pair of fangs that looked
more like tusks as he stalked toward me slowly.
The second vampire was tall, muscled up, and sported a closely shaven hair cut. He looked like a linebacker, and it occurred to me for a moment that he’d probably been a football player in his former life. Regardless of who or what he’d once been, I didn’t want to become tomorrow’s headline by dying in a dark alley behind a nightclub. I wasn’t ready to kick the bucket just yet.
I raised my arm ready to drive Chuck into his cold, dead heart only to find he wasn’t in my hand. He’d flown out of my grip during my rendezvous with the pavement. Frantic, I searched the ground for Chuck, who, to my utter dismay, lay several feet away near a dumpster. Oh, for the love of…
Vampire Number Two glanced over at the stake, and then to me with a sinister smile. Knowing it was either him or me, I took action. I dove toward the dumpster and reached my hand out for Chuck, willing him into my grip as I came into a crouch with the wooden spike pointed upward.
Fully prepared to stake my undead opponent while it attacked me, I was shocked to see another creature seemingly fall from the sky. What the hell? Is it raining vampires?
Taking advantage of the element of surprise, the new player on scene opened his mouth, revealing a set of deadly fangs. Wasting no time, he ripped a huge chunk of flesh out of my attacker’s neck, before tearing its head off. The vamp exploded into a pile of dust.
Holy…Vampire. The new player was a vampire, and he’d taken out one of his own. Shocked into silence, I looked up from the pile of dust that had been the linebacker vamp, into the eyes of my mysterious helper, and wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
“You?” I gasped. My stomach seized up and bottomed out while loud warning bells sounded in my head. Danger…danger, Will Robinson! Danger!
