Chapter 3

The entire weekend,I went back and forth on my decision.

Could I continue fighting? Could I fight more times a week to make more money? And what if I made all the money I needed and Sylvie didn't have any more Mage Bloom to make my potion? There were certain things that couldn't be conjured with magic.

Unless it was a wish.

Despite trying hard not to, I couldn't stop thinking about the demon Sylvie had told me about, the one I had bumped into outside her house, the annoyingly charming one, who obviously thought highly of himself.

If I could grant wishes, maybe I would think highly of myself too.

I hid inside my apartment for most of the weekend. I only left to run and train, to keep my body primed. I would need it, if I were to fight more often.

Damn, I missed my magic.

It would have been much easier if I could smite my opponents.

I wouldn't have been able to do that even if I still had my magic. Humans didn't know about the supernatural world and it was best if it stayed that way.

Angels were the ones who had first come up with that rule, and we had to set the example.

Even if I was an outcast and hunted by my own race now.

Finally, on Sunday evening, I caved.

I put on tight black leather pants and a tunic, my high-heel boots, and went back to Houston, to the Nine Club. I parked my car in the parking garage beside the night club and threw my charm at the bouncer to let me cut the line.

Thankfully, I was considered pretty for a human: long, silver-blond hair, silver-gray eyes, and a toned body. I had applied a little makeup and even painted my lips burgundy.

This demon and his wishes better be worth this trouble.

The bouncer smiled at me and let me pass. I heard the protests coming from the others, but I didn't care. It used to bother me. Angels were supposed to care. Angels were supposed to be good, kind, nearly perfect.

I had lost almost all of that in the five years I had been stuck on Earth.

The club was like many others: a dance floor in the middle, tables to one side, a long bar on the other, and a VIP area on the second floor, giving the patrons a perfect view of the crowd from above. The loud music thrummed through my body, and the scent of alcohol and perfume was heavy in the air.

I stopped at the edge of the dance floor and looked up.

Instantly, I saw him.

Leviathan, the wish granting demon, stood in the center VIP booth with a whiskey glass in his hands. Two women wearing red dresses danced beside him, and two males were with them.

I let out a long breath and headed upstairs.

On the way, a few men stopped and looked at me. Some even attempted a lame line. I ignored them. I would rather face a handful of demons than one single drunk man. They were the worst.

I was stopped by another bouncer at the entrance of the VIP booths.

"Do you have an invitation?" he asked.

Damn it. "No, but?—"

"You can't enter without an invitation." He straightened and looked straight ahead, over my head.

I narrowed my eyes. If I had my magic …

I shook my head. I couldn't think like that. I didn't have my magic. I was useless like a human, and I needed to think like one. I put a hand on my waist, shifted my weight, pushed my hips to the side, and did a small hair toss. Wearing my award-winning fake smile, I batted my eyes at him.

"Are you sure I can't come in?"

He glanced at me, his eyes running the length of me. He opened his mouth, closed it again. "I—I can't."

Shit.

I stepped closer to him. "But you see?—"

"Arwen!" someone said from behind me. Startled, I turned and saw Mr. Green standing there, two of his goons flanking him. "What a surprise to see you here." He walked up to me and patted the bouncer's chest. "It's okay, Pete, she's with me."

The bouncer moved aside and Mr. Green gestured for me to follow him.

This was not how I planned to do this, but if it got my foot in the door, then so be it.

I followed Mr. Green to his VIP booth, which was right beside the demon's. I looked at the demon, but he was busy talking to the other males. Were they all demons? Or was he scamming humans?

A server showed up as soon as Mr. Green and I entered his booth. She handed him a martini and asked me what I wanted.

I almost said nothing, but I didn't want to stand out. "Red wine, please." She nodded and left.

Mr. Green sat in the booth, closer to the railing overlooking the dance floor and stared at me. Not liking this one bit, I took a seat across from him, my back to the demon's booth.

"I've never seen you here before," Mr. Green said. "Is this your first time?"

"I"ve come here a couple of times," I lied. "I'm not big into going out." That wasn't a lie. "I prefer training."

"Right. So you can win your fights." He leaned forward, one of his elbows resting on his knee. "My offer stands, Arwen. Tell me what it'll take for you to fight more than once a week."

Here was my chance.

I glanced over my shoulder. The demon had sat down and was talking to another male. The two girls in red dresses hovered close by.

I frowned and faced Mr. Green. "Once a week is enough—for now."

Hopefully, I wouldn't have to do it at all.

"You're a mystery, Arwen." He tilted his head and a small smile spread over his lips. "I like mysteries."

I suppressed a shudder, lest my current employer see how much he disgusted me.

Two men entered Mr. Green's VIP booth: Carlos and Jonas, the jerks from the fighting club.

"Look, it"s Princess Arwen," Carlos said. He grabbed my glass of red wine from the server and sat beside Mr. Green. "Didn't expect that."

Jonas sat beside me. "Me neither. I thought the little princess would be training nonstop." He turned a deadly eye at me. "I still want a rematch."

Mr. Green chuckled. "Come on now, boys. We didn't come all this way to talk about work."

"Of course not," Carlos agreed, but his expression read murder.

I bet I could kick both their asses at the same time, and something in me wanted to challenge them right here, right now, but I didn't want to waste time.

I was here for something else.

"Excuse me," was all I said as I got up and walked away from the booth. I turned to the demon's booth.

The women were now dancing around the other males, but the demon wasn't there. I glanced around and saw his black-haired head going down the stairs.

I started after him, but the demon was slippery.

The humans seemed to part for him to pass, while they crowded around me, slowing me down. If I had my magic, I would smite them all and?—

I stopped that thought. No, I wouldn't smite them all. That was not what an angel did. I had spent way too much time on Earth and with other supernaturals. Their ways were clearly leaving a mark on me, and not a good one.

The demon was tall, taller than most humans, and I saw his head across the dance floor, heading to the exit.

Shit.

When I finally made it outside, I glanced around and didn't see him anywhere. There was still a short line before the bouncer, hoping to get in, a couple crossing the street to the parking garage, and nothing else.

I had lost the freaking demon.

I fished my phone from where I had tucked it into the waist of my pants and searched for Sylvie's number. She was sure to know where else I could find him. If not today, then tomorrow, or sometime this week.

I would have more of her potion on Wednesday, but I couldn't go on like this. I couldn't fight to get money and spend almost all of it to buy a potion to mute my aura, so I could keep on hiding from the angels for the rest of my life.

That wasn't living.

Besides, it was harder and harder to find Mage Bloom?

I needed a better solution.

Then it hit me that it was almost midnight. Should I call the witch at this time? Would it be rude? Did I care about being rude? Usually, I didn't, but what if I upset her and she delayed my order?

Defeated, I started walking back to the parking garage beside the club. A narrow driveway divided the club building and the garage, and as I walked across the driveway, a light shone over me.

Panic took over and I put my hands up, ready for a fight.

It was the angels. They had found me.

But nothing happened.

When I lowered my hands and my eyesight adjusted, I saw it was the headlights of a black car a few feet into the driveway.

And a figure leaned on the car's closed door.

Leviathan.

I stood there, perplexed.

"Sweetheart, I might consider this stalking," he said, his voice as deep as I remembered.

I pointed to the three-story garage. "I was walking to my car."

"Aren't you the one who bumped into me outside Sylvie's house?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

"Didn't you sit down beside my VIP booth and make small talk with a human?"

Damn it. "Yes."

"And when you saw I was gone, you followed me." He pushed away from the car, reaching his full height. "Confess it, sweetheart, you're after me." He took two steps toward me. "Why?"

I walked to the side, closer to him, mostly to get out of the range of the headlights, and halted only four feet from him.

Despite myself, I took him in. It was impossible not to.

Hell, the demon was more than handsome.

His face alone was one of a god, not a demon. He had black hair, longer in the front, almost to his eyes, shorter in the back, and it framed a sharp face with five o'clock shadow over his chiseled jaw and chin. His nose was straight, his eyebrows thick, and his full lips a pale pink.

Tonight, he wore an indigo suit with a silver shirt, three buttons open, revealing a little of the strong curve of his chest muscles. Though I had no idea what he looked like under those clothes, I would bet he was ripped. His suit, definitely designer, fit well around his wide shoulders and thick biceps.

But what attracted me the most were his eyes. A bright, baby blue so pure and luminous, it was hard not to stare.

What the hell was I thinking?

I shook my head, trying to get rid of such ridiculous thoughts. Who cared what the demon looked like? He could be as ugly and nasty as Mr. Green for all I cared, as long as I got what I wanted out of him.

"I heard you grant wishes," I said.

"That's not exactly what I do, sweetheart, but sure, it's something like that."

"I want you to grant me a wish. What's your price?"

"I like to know who I'm dealing with before I make a deal."

I hesitated. Should I give him my fake name? No, if he was going to grant me wishes, he probably needed my real name. "I'm Ariella. And you're Leviathan."

"Nice to meet you."

Enough with this shit. "So, about my wish."

His eyes narrowed. "Tell me what you need, sweetheart."

"I'll tell you only if you grant it."

"I'll only know if I can grant it if you tell me what it is."

Damn. I wasn't planning on rendering the details of my problem to him. I shifted my weight. "I'm an angel and I lost my wings. I would?—"

"So, a fallen angel."

I gritted my teeth. "Yes. Five years ago, a higher demon took my wings, and a handful of months ago, another demon stole my powers?—"

He scoffed. "So, you're practically human."

I clenched my hands into fists. "Does it matter to you what I am?"

"I need to know who and what I'm dealing with."

"I'm a fallen angel without her powers. Happy?" I wasn't.

"What rank are you? Or should I say, were you?"

Oh, so he knew about that? I didn't think many demons knew about our ranks.

From the bottom, we had angels. They didn't have powers and their wings were a lot smaller than the others. They were good people who only wanted harmony and peace. It was said the first humans were actually angels who wanted to explore Earth. In the years they stayed here, they lost their wings and became humans.

If an angel had light magic and demonstrated stronger feelings that were not lined up with pure goodness, they were sent to the Guardian Academy, to become Guardians and fight evil. In the academy, we were taught to use our feelings in the right way.

Before demon hunters existed, we were the only ones fighting demons and evil beings on Earth. I had heard that because there was so much evil on Earth and the angel population was small, Adona had decided we couldn't fight alone. She sent an archangel to a human and gave him powers—the first demon hunter.

If that was true or not, I didn't know.

When an angel graduated from the academy, he was a Cherub, a new recruit. It was a proud moment when the angel received his Celestial Sword and started going on missions. After several years proving himself, gaining experience and power, he would then become a Seraph.

Another several years and experience later, and a lot more power, he would become an archangel, the strongest and most powerful of all angels. The generals and commanders in our armies.

And at the top, was our own god, Adona, the most pure and kindhearted and righteous creature to ever exist. She was as old as the universe.

I shifted my weight, uncomfortable with this conversation. "I'm a Cherubin." I had graduated from the academy when I came down to Earth for a mission and became stuck here.

"Then you're young, sweetheart." Yes, I was. Twenty-three years old, but I felt ninety after so long on Earth. Angels aged like humans until we became archangels, when they became practically immortal, like Adona—but only one percent of us ever got to that rank. "Where's your sword?"

He knew too much about us. A lot of our lives and systems were a mystery to others. But this demon knew a few things.

"The same demon who ripped my wings off destroyed my sword."

"And you won't ask me for it?"

My eyes widened. "Can you get it back for me if I wish for it?"

"Is that what you want, sweetheart?"

"I want my wings and my magic back," I said. Of course, I also wanted my sword back, but I had seen Molraz destroy it. I always thought I couldn't get that one back until Leviathan mentioned it. "Bonus points if you can find the higher demon who took my wings and give me a new Celestial Sword."

Slowly, the demon walked around me and I felt like a dead piece of meat at the butcher.

"What's the name of the demon?"

"Molraz." It could have been me, but I felt as if the demon had faltered when rounding my back. "Do you know him?"

"I know of him, yes," he said, his words clipped. "I can find the wings and the demon, but I can't restore your magic and I can't give you your sword back."

My brows slammed down. To fight against the angels, to find out what mess I had been unwillingly thrown into, I would need my magic back. As for my sword, it was a shame, but maybe when I returned, when I straightened everything out, I could get one back.

My wings and the higher demon were a good start.

"And the price?"

He stopped in front of me, closer this time, and the corner of his lips tugged up. "You have two options, sweetheart."

By the light, this sweetheart thing was getting on my nerves.

"And they are?"

"One, you work for me for ten years."

"So I'm practically yours?"

His blue eyes became even brighter. "Exactly. After that, you're free to do whatever you want."

Belonging to a demon for that long? Yeah, right. Pass. "And option number two?"

"You can do whatever you want for ten years, I don't care, but after those ten years, your soul is mine."

"My soul? You mean, my soul when I'm dead?"

He nodded.

All right, so, I either belonged to him for ten years, or I would be dead in ten years.

None of these were good options. "And a third option?"

"No third option, sweetheart. You're already getting one too many."

"Yeah, that won't work for me." I turned my back to him and marched away.

When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw him entering into his car—a sleek black Porsche.

I shouldn't have hoped this would work. Dealing with demons was always a bad idea, why did I think this time would be any different? I wasn't this naive.

I would have to fight, get the money I needed, and find a second supplier or witch to make my potions. After that, I didn't know. I still didn't like the idea of hiding my entire life, but I couldn't perform miracles on my own.

Especially not without my magic and my wings.

As I approached my car in the garage, I called Mr. Green. He was probably still inside the club.

He picked up on the second ring. "Arwen, what is it?" he yelled over the loud music in the background.

"Call your club. I'm on my way there for a fight."