Page 10 of Of Blood and Smoke

“Perhaps I will provide you with assistance,” I mused, sitting back in my chair and staring at the freeze-frame of footage on my screen. The man was outside a higher-end gentleman’s club called The Angels; the picture frozen in time to provide an optimal view of his facial features. The computer quickly identified him, handing us all the information we needed to secure and end him and his foolishness.

“Josiah,” my friend started, rubbing his chin. “Have you confirmed your scheduled return yet?”

I’d been summoned to the Higher Court and a meeting was tentatively scheduled for me with one of the Ancients, a being named Ezra. He was one of a collective, a group of the mostpowerful creatures in existence, short of the Creator, whom no one had ever proven to be an actuality but was, of course, referred to when convenient. I picked up my glass and drained it before answering. “No, not yet,” I replied, placing the cup down. I changed the subject and asked, “How’s your girlfriend?” I wasn’t certain what the human was to him but referred to her as such for ease of conversation.

Micha pursed his lips. “She is well. I may go visit her again tonight.” His eyes glittered as he spoke. He really liked this one, I could tell. My friend was one for brief but intense dalliances, being much more of a free spirit than I. Preferably, I made use of donors and avoided the messiness and disorder of whimsical human connection.

We’d met as children, when we began specialized schooling for our kind, and he’d always been a bit of a rebel and subject to flights of fancy. We had been the only two students in attendance for our education and my dear friend had never really met the given expectations of our teachers. Thankfully, he was not only a loving friend to me, but also a good and faithful servant when it came to business.

“I’ll send the men to go pick up the traitor—unless you’d prefer a more personal touch?” Micha stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. He looked at me, waiting for my answer.

“Send the men. If there’s any problems with retrieval, then go ahead and secure Mister Boccelli yourself. Please notify me when he’s brought in.”

The Angels was the perfect place to distribute Onychinus, the chemical composition enhancing intuition and sex hormones simultaneously. In some ways, it was partially similar to a popular club drug called Ecstasy, only ours didn’t come with the unpopular side effect of sudden death.

Unless, of course, one stole from me.

My meeting with Ezra loomed over me, and I was restless. It was uncertain what he wanted, but I knew it had nothing to do with my murder of Lord Sem. That situation had already been addressed and my actions excused as I’d exposed extensive subterfuge.

Ezra and I had what could be considered a friendship, having gotten to know each other over the years. He’d been my favorite teacher. He watched me grow up into the man I was today, and he trusted me.

Sem and a few others had planned on removing the supernatural beings in power here in the Third Realm while claiming loyalty to the Ancients. I played my part to Sem, pretending to desire to remove a few of them myself and appropriate their businesses in this human-dominated world.

However, all I’d wanted was my own place in the gold rush and I’d strategized as needed. For the most part, I’d always remained in excellent standing with my superiors. There’d been very few glitches in my duties. I’d been their enforcer, making sure law and order was maintained, and been entrusted with such for centuries without fail.

Now, I wanted more, and I had Ezra’s blessing. Despite my departure, I still paid the Court tribute and offered my services if absolutely necessary. It hadn’t been, but it was the thought that counts.

“Wait,” I ordered my friend. I got up from my chair and crossed the room, stopping in front of the coat closet. “We’ll go together, have the men remain in the area as backup.” I was itching for some action, having been shut inside for weeks.

Micha raised an eyebrow and waited by the door until I joined him.

Stopping by my assistant’s desk I let her know we’d be back in a few hours. It was evening, but she was used to our unconventional hours and was paid more than adequatelyfor her trouble. “Okay, thank you. I’ll message you if there’s anything urgent,” Christina said, quickly averting her gaze when she almost met my eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Her skin tinged with a blush pink. “Will you need me later?” she asked.

I glared at her, though she’d not see it. I’d used her once and ever since; she had the insane idea in her head she was favored. She was not.

I forgave her the breach. She was too competent and responsible to let go of and looking one in the eyes when spoken to was a normal social reaction. Humans were messy and unpredictable, but that just added to their charm and allure. I wasn’t completely unforgiving if it benefited me—just close.

“No,” I stated, turning away. “I won’t be needing those services from you again.”

Most of the time, I wore sunglasses to hide my unnatural irises, the reflective and pearlescent charcoal shade being an unusual and unexpected sight. The color was so deep it couldn’t be mistaken for any type of brown. Eventually, perhaps the unique tone wouldn’t be such a novelty as others became desensitized, but for now it remained a disturbance to those who witnessed it.

Part of the conditions of employment at Ipomoea Pharmaceuticals was no eye contact with any of the executives and zero photography. There were many other security measures included in our iron-clad non-disclosure agreement, but those two items were at the top of the list.

Rather than single myself and Micha out, I applied the rule to all upper management for simplicity’s sake despite their lack of outstanding features. Those men were primarily mid-level demons and blended so well with humans that no one would ever know who they’d conversed with. Nonetheless, Micha and I kept to ourselves for the most part.

The elevator brought us down to the parking level where one of our drivers waited. After we entered and he closed the door, our ride brought us to the elite strip club.

The business was a sleek storefront of whitewashed brick, in keeping with The Angels’ heavenly theme. Soft pink lighting and a chain of fuchsia ropes delineated the entrance line full of aging men and women.

In a few short hours, the arriving customers would consist of more aesthetically pleasing and fiscally flush humans who would then be brought to the front of the line. The club chain’s founder, an archangel, did not cater to the general population after hours, preferring to endorse idealized versions of beauty and perfection. From what I’d seen, he’d done a commendable job other than marring the scene before-hours by his standards. The unrelenting focus on aesthetics propelled what should’ve been just another nude drinking hole into the stratosphere. It was shallow, but undeniably effective.

My target for the evening, the thieving Boccelli, was barely attractive enough to secure entry and I had a feeling his wares had encouraged the doors to open. We’d been tracking him for a little while—a couple of weeks, and one of the watchers we’d installed in the club reported seeing an increase of unusual activity.

This report along with the discrepancy in our inventory led to deeper investigation, which brought us to this very moment. Product samples had gone missing, which then led to Micha’s exploration.

We stepped out of the vehicle, and I smoothed my suit jacket before pushing my hair back while closely examining the crowd. Scenting the air, I didn’t find anything beyond the usual human smells of lust, desire, and greed. A visual evaluation of auras, courtesy of my demon blood, denoted the same. The spectacle was likely on purpose, the mixture of coral neon lights aimed tointermingle with the twinkling mist around bodies. Sheer genius and a marvel of marketing efforts.

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