SERENA'S POV
Just seconds after the TV flickers off, two men with tuxedoes, black sunglasses, and vacant expressions barge into my room. Without even knocking. Demons have zero manners, I swear to God. Even Dean says "thank you" occasionally.
"Excuse me, I was watching that!" I stand up defiantly from the couch.
They both take an arm each and "escort" me out the room.
Crowley greets me out in the hallway. No smile, no "sweetheart": straight down to business.
As we're walking and talking, he snaps his fingers. We don't stop moving when we flash onto a mildly crowded New England street.
"This is Artisan Avenue, Cavanaugh, New Hampshire," the King explains coldly. "You're going undercover in Catja's Candy Corner. I need you to detect and take care of the demons in there."
"Demons? You want me to kill demons?" I raise an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm going to listen to you anyways?"
We stop at the front entrance to the shop. It's decorated like candy-canes, with a gingerbread board supporting the title and gumdrop borders. The two men chaperoning me disappear.
"There's someone I'd like you to meet," Crowley's eyes show no emotion. They're desparate and cold, as if he's become absolutely 0% human.
I'm shoved through the front doors before I can protest, and I'm left all alone. I notice the two bodyguards from outside casually sitting in a booth together, staring blankly ahead. So that means escape is out of the question, I sigh.
The candy store is set up like a six-year-old's dream. Clear coated red plastic booths border tables with jellybean table clothes. Families are laughing with each other, sporting ice cream mustaches on their upper lips and frosting along the edges of their mouths. But something's strange about them. Their eyes are too shiny, their smiles are strained like they're trying too hard. I've never been to Cavanaugh, so maybe people are just big on image here, and trying to prove their happiness. Unfortunately, something tells me that the answer behind their behavior is not exactly human.
I cross the pink-and-white tiles to the counter. A deli-type layout is in front of me. There are a million flavors of ice cream (bacon would not mix well with milk and sugar), pastries with carmelized sugar that sparkle in the light, cake pops filled with thick, creamy dough and a fudge center, candy canes with little red and green bows, croissants filled with rich vanilla cream, homemade Twinkies that do not look like a heart attack crammed into three million calories, Hershey's ice cream cakes, and thousands upon thousands of artisan takes on muffins and cinnamon buns and friggin zuchinni bread. Looking at the menu up on the wall, I see that they are waging war with Starbucks in the number of customers that pronounce coffees the wrong way, along with exactly 203,675,923 types of milkshakes and bubble tea, and smoothies made with fruit from local farms, and a key that tells you gluten free and vegan options.
To sum it up in some very intelligent, well-thought out words:
Holy shit.
The cashier asks for my order with a really creepy gigantic smile and eyes that are way too wide. It looks like she's trying to imitate a possessed clown.
"Uh, yeah, I'll have the chocolate mocha swirl ice cream, please, with the white chocolate latte and a croissant," I smile.
The cashier nods (almost ripping her head off in the process) and types it into the cashier with fingers flying like French fries in McDonald's commercials.
"That'll be $16.98!" she chirps.
I point to the bodyguards. "The gentlemen over there will be covering my bill."
YOU ARE READING
Vengeance (Burning Beliefs #2)
FanfictionIt's been seven years since Vegas. Castiel hasn't given up on his family. Gracie hasn't left the past behind. Dean hasn't put the bottle down, and Sam has managed to marry a witch. Serena wakes up on the beach, suddenly twenty-five years old, with n...
