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It would have been much easier if I could smite my opponents.
I wouldn’t have been able to do that even if I still had my magic. Humans didn’t know about the supernatural world and it was best if it stayed that way.
Angels were the ones who had first come up with that rule, and we had to set the example.
Even if I was an outcast and hunted by my own race now.
Finally, on Sunday evening, I caved.
I put on tight black leather pants and a tunic, my high-heel boots, and went back to Houston, to the Nine Club. I parked my car in the parking garage beside the night club and threw my charm at the bouncer to let me cut the line.
Thankfully, I was considered pretty for a human: long, silver-blond hair, silver-gray eyes, and a toned body. I had applied a little makeup and even painted my lips burgundy.
This demon and his wishes better be worth this trouble.
The bouncer smiled at me and let me pass. I heard the protests coming from the others, but I didn’t care. It used to bother me. Angels were supposed to care. Angels were supposed to be good, kind, nearly perfect.
I had lost almost all of that in the five years I had been stuck on Earth.
The club was like many others: a dance floor in the middle, tables to one side, a long bar on the other, and a VIP area on the second floor, giving the patrons a perfect view of the crowd from above. The loud music thrummed through my body, and the scent of alcohol and perfume was heavy in the air.
I stopped at the edge of the dance floor and looked up.
Instantly, I saw him.
Leviathan, the wish granting demon, stood in the center VIP booth with a whiskey glass in his hands. Two women wearing red dresses danced beside him, and two males were with them.
I let out a long breath and headed upstairs.
On the way, a few men stopped and looked at me. Some even attempted a lame line. I ignored them. I would rather face a handful of demons than one single drunk man. They were the worst.
I was stopped by another bouncer at the entrance of the VIP booths.
“Do you have an invitation?” he asked.
Damn it. “No, but?—”
“You can’t enter without an invitation.” He straightened and looked straight ahead, over my head.
I narrowed my eyes. If I had my magic …
I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that. I didn’t have my magic. I was useless like a human, and I needed to think like one. I put a hand on my waist, shifted my weight, pushed my hips to the side, and did a small hair toss. Wearing my award-winning fake smile, I batted my eyes at him.
“Are you sure I can’t come in?”
He glanced at me, his eyes running the length of me. He opened his mouth, closed it again. “I—I can’t.”
Shit.
I stepped closer to him. “But you see?—”
“Arwen!” someone said from behind me. Startled, I turned and saw Mr. Green standing there, two of his goons flanking him. “What a surprise to see you here.” He walked up to me and patted the bouncer’s chest. “It’s okay, Pete, she’s with me.”
The bouncer moved aside and Mr. Green gestured for me to follow him.
This was not how I planned to do this, but if it got my foot in the door, then so be it.
I followed Mr. Green to his VIP booth, which was right beside the demon’s. I looked at the demon, but he was busy talking to the other males. Were they all demons? Or was he scamming humans?
