Page 4 of Micaela's Big Bad

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Actually, for a demon, she was all about the happy joy joy, you know?

I rattled off, “Jay was in mid-thrust into some vampire. It’s whatever. I threw a fork at him, then a picture. And a few more pictures. I might’ve ripped down his favorite painting. I said a lot of shit, packed my bags, and I showed up at your place to get drunk.”

She was putting on her heels.

Her clutch was next.

She was looking around.

Her phone was on the nightstand.

She grabbed it, and she was heading for the door. She had asked me to finish, and now was so distracted that it was insulting, “Then what?”

She reached for the door, but I was there.

I slapped a hand on it, knowing my eyes were hard when her head snapped up.

I spoke through my gritted teeth, “We stay in on Halloween. I left Jay. I’m your number one, and you’re worked up about going to work, on a night you never work, and you know Benji would let you off.” Benji was Bass’ night manager, and he loved me. Well, he loved my cousin, but he adored me in a doting sort of way. He’d melt if I told him about Jay. “There’s a rumor that a Big Bad is coming to town tonight.”

I said town, but I meant city. We weren’t too far from downtown Minneapolis.

And I wasn’t lying about the Big Bad, but I was lying about the rumor.

I knew there was someone big and powerful coming to town. I’d been feeling his energy. Or her. I didn’t discriminate except this energy felt masculine. Very, very masculine. Whoever it was had massive powerful energy that was already spreading to where we were. It was in the air.

“There’s also a rumor that the new owner of Bass is making a visit tonight too. That got anything to do with you going to work on a night when we’ve made sure we don’t work since we’ve both been born?”

I wasn’t lying about that rumor. I heard it three days ago at a family picnic. The previous owner was a demon that got dead so Bass was sold, but no one knew who it was sold to. Everyone wanted to know who. Vamps. Werewolves. Witches. Demons. Other beings like me…well, except not me. I hadn’t given two fucks who the new owner was.

That all changed now.

It’s the only thing that made sense, and as soon as I said those words, that dark, swirly energy around her spiked. It doubled in size, and it was swinging around her head in a frenzied way.

I hoped that I’d been wrong. The evidence before me was telling me that I wasn’t.

Nikki didn’t answer. She closed her eyes, and I saw all her energy morphing and starting to swirl around her, almost in a protective way.

She was going to teleport.

Away from me.

Me!

This was not like Nikki, not at all. Something was definitely off.

What the hell?

So…

Well.

I did something.

I had to.

I had done it once. The results had been disastrous, so I never did it again.

But I had no choice right now.

So I did what I did.

I grabbed her energy and I took hold.

She started to teleport, and—well, if I’d taken enough and held on, I would’ve too.

I only took a little, enough to ground her so she couldn’t teleport. That, and she wasn’t strong enough to teleport with me yet either.

When she didn’t go anywhere, she sucked in her breath. Her head twisted to me. Her eyes flashed black, and she shoved me away from her.

She hissed, “This is a demon thing. Stay in your lane.”

I relented and let her go, and she was off…but I knew three things.

One, that wasn’t my best friend. Or that wasn’t the best friend I loved.

Two, I should’ve been way more active in doing whatever I could’ve when she started working there.

And three, I didn’t give a rat’s ass about her lane, my lane. We were on this trip together.

I was going to Bass.

I looked around the room, seeing she’d left her glass untouched, and I headed over.

I might need a little something something to soften the edge because damn, humans on Halloween were annoying.

I drank hers. Mine.

I grabbed the rest of the bottle and headed out.3Thank You. JeezI was walking down the highway when my Uber pulled up.

The front window rolled down, and the driver leaned over. “You can’t bring that in here.” His bald head was shinier than normal, and the cross he was wearing swung toward me. It fell out of his sweatsuit, and not just any sweatsuit. This driver was wearing a red velvet sweatsuit.

Someone had aspirations to be a pimp. I wasn’t stereotyping pimps. He’d actually told me this was his goal in life on another day when I had almost a full bourbon bottle with me.

I looked at my current bottle. There was a third left.


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