Dealing with humans, witches, and shifters is always tedious.
“Uh, yeah. I do.”
“Excellent.” I smile. “Do you have the ability to scry? And if not, where can I find a witch with that power?”
“Me?” Her long dark hair falls around her pert breasts as she points at her chest, almost as if she’s asking if I’m speaking to her.
She’s utterly stunning, but what I need is her intelligence and magical gifts.
Her thin, see-through cardigan flows as she moves to shove her hair behind her ear. Maybe that’s called a shawl? No. Ithas actual arm holes. It’s silky, almost like a gauzy curtain or a nightgown, and it covers a tight black spaghetti strap top.
“Yes, you, little witch. I need you to focus,” I say to keep myself on track.
I believe I was about to peek over the glass counter to find out what she’s wearing below that tiny top.
A short skirt?
Skin-tight jeans?
None of it matters.
I have a job to do.
“I need to locate a creature. It’s something I’ve never seen before, and it’s dangerous. Unafraid to kill an angel. Do you understand what I’m saying?” I do my best to keep my tone level, but my patience is running thin.
Her mouth opens and closes several times in quick succession, and I believe the severity of the situation is finally sinking in. Only she continues to blink with a vacant look on her face that I would find humorous if my circumstances weren’t so dire. Each additional day the creature walks free gives it more opportunities to kill innocents.
Everything I’ve sensed says the monster is female, but in all my long years, I’ve never seen anything like whatever killed Levi. I only got the briefest glimpse of it before it siphoned away, and I can still safely say that it wasn’t a reaper or a nightmare.
I’ve faced those down over the centuries.
This was something much more ancient.
It must have escaped Hell recently, but it has no place here. I’ll be the one to dispatch it back to the bowels of Hell.
It’s unfortunate that some beings are truly immortal. Even if I slaughter it in this realm, it will simply respawn in the pit in Hell to be recycled. Although, from what I’ve heard, all of its memories will be wiped clean.
That will have to be enough. Hopefully the reset will allow it to choose a different path after its years of penance.
“Do you have anything that belongs to this creature?” the witch asks. “A hair or a piece of clothing? Fingernails could work in a pinch.”
My head hangs as it shakes. “I do not. Nothing tangible. Is there somewhere we could sit and talk?”
She takes a step back, and her large blue eyes widen almost comically.
I’m sure this small-town witch does find it shocking that an angel could need a favor, but I need her to get with the program.
“Yeah, we have a consultation table.” She tosses her thumb over her shoulder. “It’s right back here. Just come around the counter.”
I nod and skirt past the glass enclosure that houses many small relics and trinkets. “What’s your name?”
“H-Hazel,” she stutters. “I’m Hazel.” She grabs the back of the cushioned chair on the opposite side of the table.
Taking the seat across from it will mean my back is to the door, which is always a poor strategy when it comes to situational awareness. However I have no enemies in this town. At least none that I know of.
“Zephyrus.” I bow my head in a show of respect. “You may call me Zephyr.”
The quirky witch bounces in her seat, looking anywhere but into my eyes. It’s to be expected. The level of dominance in my gaze makes it difficult for lesser beings to hold eye contact. That doesn’t explain why my stomach twists strangely at seeing how uncomfortable she is by my presence.
