The flashing multicolored bulbs reminded him of the demon who came dressed as Santa Claus one year. He’d decided to get festive for his attacks upon humanity, but it hadn't ended well for him. That was the year Shayne had found an inventive use for flashing Christmas lights. His lips curled upwards briefly. Arch hadn’t found it too amusing, but Shayne found it very “electrifying”.
A loud howling came through the speakers as the song ended. It sounded like something heard in the woods during mating season, and it wasn't pretty. Shayne rubbed his large hand across his forehead, massaging the tight muscles. If it were possible for an immortal endurer to get a headache, he’d have the mother of them all. Shayne knew it was going to be a long night.
Although most of the people were enjoying the season, there were some that were grasping for anything to help them make it through. Christmas was a time to celebrate the birth of Jesus, family, and blessings. For someone who didn’t have family or anything else to celebrate, Christmas made them easy prey for demonic attacks.
His job? Protect and save as many of them as possible, which wasn’t always easy. There were a lot of people in the world who loved to wallow in their misery, and they didn’t mind opening the door to demons. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late. It generally ended in an exorcism if they were lucky or a body bag delivered by him if they weren’t.
Sometimes, it really sucked to be the good guy.
At that thought, Shayne grabbed his glass mug and bellowed for a refill. He glared darkly at the man standing on the opposite side of the bar. The short, red-faced bartender shot him a nervous glance before scurrying over. After topping it off, he quickly retreated to the other end of the bar to serve more amicable patrons. His quick backwards glance made it pretty obvious that he was hoping Shayne would be leaving soon. Shayne shrugged. He had that effect on people.
Men were scared of him, and women couldn’t get enough of him. Who could blame them? With a forty-two-inch chest and eighteen-inch arms, Shayne had the body of a warrior. Modern men spent hours at the gym trying to get the powerful bodies that came naturally to the men of his time.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging over the bar, he realized he didn’t look too bad for an old guy. His long hair and braided beard concealed a lot of his rugged face. His muscled body made him look like a well-defined man in the prime of his life. His mind, though, was another story. It generally felt every one of his years and then some. With Armageddon just around the corner, demons were growing more powerful, and soon the endurers were going to have one hell of a fight on their hands.
A voluptuous brunette slithered over to him. Raising her hand, she placed it over his shoulder. “Hi there,” she said, in a throaty voice. It promised all kinds of unmentionable pleasures. Leaning in until her breasts brushed his arm, she whispered, “My place or yours?” Her other hand slid up his leather-clad thigh, cupping his groin in a practiced manner.
Any other night and Shayne would have taken her up on it. But as it was, souls were at stake, and he took his job very seriously. With a long drawn-out sigh, he gave a brief shake of his head.
“Another night, pet,” he said, moving her hand away. If his dick could have groaned, it would have. In the end, though, he ignored her and took another long drink. With a pout on her mouth, the brunette turned and walked away.
He never noticed the wistful and dreamy look she stopped and gave him before moving on. She felt it wasn’t easy to walk away from something that looked that good. As the years passed her by, she would occasionally look back and wonder what a night spent in his bed would have been like. Shayne might not have known it, but someone else did. And he was about to make his presence known.
A deep chuckle sounded from behind Shayne. “They just don’t leave you alone, do they, pretty boy?” the dark-haired man said.
He walked past Shayne and slid onto the now empty bar stool. He was right around Shayne’s own six foot four but not as beefy. His hair was short and a shiny black, complete with sideburns and a goatee. He was wearing jeans and an expensive black shirt that set off his luminescent skin to perfection. Arch was an angel and an extremely powerful force to be reckoned with. And as much as he tried to fit in and look mortal, it was impossible. Shayne could only describe him as being “too perfect”.
The bartender took a look at the new arrival and did a double take as his jaw dropped open. He couldn’t believe there were two of them. A light sheen of sweat popped up on his forehead, trickling down his now pale cheeks. Grabbing a towel, he quickly tried to look busy by wiping the bar down. Shayne's eyebrows rose as he watched him. It was clear to him that the bartender was a walking heart attack.
He lost interest and turned to face the angel next to him. “Slumming, Arch?” Shayne asked him, polishing off his beer. Knowing Arch, just the fact that he was there meant he was probably bringing news he didn’t want to hear.
Arch was one of the few middlemen between the endurers and Heaven, and when he came calling it usually wasn't good. Shayne grimaced. He missed his mortal days when alcohol would actually give him a buzz.
Arch chuckled again and shook his head, “And here I thought
