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Chapter Eleven
Never Drinking Again
Michael
I soared over farmlands, forests, and circled high above the rolling hills, winding rivers, and towering mountain peaks. I drifted among the clouds, desperate to outrun all of the dark emotions—loneliness, despair, and heartbreak—that threatened to consume me. Simone’s rejection pushed me off a cliff and I fell toward insanity.
The sun had set, leaving a blanket of stars and the moon, illuminating the sky with its pale light by the time I allowed myself to stand on solid ground.
I landed in front of No Man’s Pub. Why had I come here of all places? Because you’re a fool. You have nowhere to go. No home. No family. Not even a girl you thought loved you.
If luck was on my side, there might be demon soldiers off duty and they might talk when they drank enough. Any information I could gather about their king would be to my benefit.
I slipped through the door, hurried to the back corner and sat at a table alone. The only table with no candlelight but plenty of broken peanut shells. The bartender narrowed his eyes at me and got back to pouring ale in the tankards.
Every seat at the bar had been taken by demons in their human form. Off to one side, demons played cards, and on the other side, vamps were making out with other vamps or demons. This was not my crowd, but I had to get answers.
A vampire with a mustache, stationed at the far end of the bar, got up and left the pub. I quickly made my way to the empty seat. The demon next to me narrowed his eyes and gestured for the bartender with a tilt of his chin.
The bartender filled a tankard and thumped it in front of me. Splintered peanut shells jumped.
“No, thank you.” I raised a hand.
Ale was the last thing I needed. As the only angel present surrounded by demons and vampires, I had to stay sharp.
“You look like you need one,” the demon next to me said.
I glanced to the side, surprised he had spoken to me. He had a scar across his left eye that I recognized, even though it had been ages since I’d seen him last.
“Asher?”
“You recognize me?” He leaned closer as his elbows slid across the counter, knocking off a shower of peanut shells.
“Of course.” I pointed at his face. “Gorgo gave you that scar.”
The three of us were sparring when we were in our teens. Gorgo unleashed his demon, let out the rage, all because he didn’t want to lose. My angel speed had helped me dodge Gorgo’s blows, but Asher ended up with a sword across his face.
We’d stopped sparring together after the accident—for good. I couldn’t trust Gorgo to contain his demon side.
His green eyes gleamed reflected by the candlelight near his mug. “You remember.”
“How could I forget?” I lowered my voice. “He nearly killed you and then asked for my blood.”
I’d thought Gorgo had gone insane, but I had done as he asked. I sliced my palm with my sword over Asher’s eyes and let my blood drip onto him. Not only did he stop bleeding, but the wound healed immediately and left him with a scar.
That was how I’d found out my blood not only healed demons, but all species too. Gorgo had warned me never to reveal my identity. Angel hunters existed, and they were well rewarded by buyers.
Asher dipped his head in reverence. “I still owe you a debt.”
I gave him a curt nod. “I’ll keep that in mind. So where’s Gorgo?”
As if my question was his announcement, the door burst open. A sharp gust entered, almost blowing out all the candles, and Gorgo sauntered in alone. A bold move to leave his soldiers outside. Gorgo’s gaze roamed from the vamps to the demons, then landed on me and Asher with a smile.
His lips curved bigger as he sauntered, then slapped Asher’s shoulder then mine. I jerked forward and glowered at his friendly but unwanted gesture.
“What are you doing here?” Gorgo shuffled peanut shells away with a flick of his fingers. “I thought you went to visit a friend.”
The way his pitch rose higher when he had said friend insinuated he knew the relationship was more than casual.
