What Doesn't Kill You...

Grudge

Of all the necromancers in the world, why did it have to be this one who freed me?

Zephyriel glowered at Isabella from his corner of the abandoned church. As an incorporeal shade, there wasn't much he could do in this plane of existence. Except listen to her expound on her plans for world domination. She was a child who barely understood the power she was about to unleash on the world.

One little necromancer was no match for him or his forces waiting beyond the gates of Hell. He itched to silence her insipid rambling. The moment she completed the ceremony and leashed his forces, Zephyriel would no longer need her. He would dispose of her and move on to dispatching his enemies one by one. He'd had a long time to nurse his grudge and he was finally going to get his revenge.

"How do I know that spell you gave me will really kill Death?"

So she's finally speaking to me. Zephyriel heaved a sigh. "It'll work. There is only one way to remove that curse and I really doubt Death will be making a deal with one of my kind."

Isabella scowled and pouted her lips. "And if you're wrong?"

Zephyriel wished he could wipe that expression of her face. "If I'm wrong, you won't have long to worry about it."

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"What happened to avoiding demons?" Damon asked Charlie as they stood in the parking lot of the Crossroads. The afternoon light didn't do the bar any favors. It still looked like a skeezy dive.

Charlie waved her scarred hand at Damon. "Desperate times."

"Why are we here? I thought you already made a deal with this Mercer?" Damon shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. Best not to show the demon inside how nervous this actually made him. Dealing with the undead was one thing. Demons were something else entirely. His immortality meant nothing to them.

"We're here for backup." Charlie shoved the door to the bar open and stepped into the gloom. The bar was empty. The only person out on the main floor was the bartender. He didn't look up as they came in. He continued wiping glasses as they approached.

"Him?" Damon nodded to the bartender. The man was easily over 6 feet tall with broad shoulders, and a well-muscled body. The bartender snorted and shook his head.

"Guess again, Deathless." The voice came from behind them. Damon turned to see a small brunette watching them with an aggressive glint in her eyes and a cruel smile on her lips. " Bane is just the bartender. I'm the muscle."

Damon arched his brow. "Seriously?"

"Sexist much?" Hazard snapped at him.

Charlie chuckled. "You'll want to watch what you say if you don't want to lose another shirt."

Damon held up his hands in surrender. "My apologies. But why are you helping us?"

Hazard rolled her eyes. "Helping you? Hardly. You're helping the boss wrap up some unfinished business. Now, can we go end this little grudge-match or do you want sit around and chit-chat all day?"