Blake finished drying a glass and nodded to the twenty-something man who’d just stumbled up to the bar, his eyes a tad too glossy from the last double shot of whiskey that he’d downed in record time. Blake didn’t bother to sniff him. He already knew the guy was just a regular old red-blooded Canadian. No demon blood there. Not a drop.
Lucky bastard.
Not that any demons sidled up to his bar for a drink, however, especially in the light of day. They didn’t. Full-blooded demons could only come out at night. Few humans had the ability to see them, and those who did surely wished they hadn’t. Nothing good ever came from a human interacting with a demon. And he should know. Human and demon alike considered him no good. Besides his sister the only other one who’d every believed in him or showed him any kindness was his mother, and she hadn’t exactly been unbiased.
As a receiver of energy, a “seer”—more in tune with the spiritual world and their frequency than others—she was one of the few who had the talent to “see” monsters.
But look where that got her, a single mom in hiding, raising two monster babies. Not that anyone could blame her for being lured in by one. Blake knew the power a demon had over a human woman. Hell, he had it himself when he wanted to use it. Charming, charismatic, fiery passion; no one had the strength to resist such temptation. But despite giving in to the lure of a demon and knowing what her offspring were, his mother had reared them with love. She’d taught them to look for the best of both their worlds in themselves, not the worst, and had given them affection while trying to find ways to help them control their excessive emotions and strength. It was her strength that had helped Blake resist the unrelenting temptation of the Demon world and all its fixes.
Cass and he had always been close, counting on each other for support in a cold, unfriendly world where humans were quick to hunt and kill anything perceived as different. She’d always been the stronger of the two of them and was the one who’d managed to stay out of trouble—as an adolescent, Blake had a little too much of the pleasure seeker in him. Their mother’s death had taken its toll on Cass. When she’d died she’d taken a piece of Cass with her and it had left his sister trying to find her place in society that wanted nothing to do with her. Blake understood her pain and her inherent need to acquire a sense of belonging, but her quick departure left him feeling especially alone in this hostile world. She felt the emptiness too, he’d sensed it. He also sensed something else, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Which made him really, really afraid that trouble had finally caught up with Cass. And the worst part of it was, he couldn’t be sure which world it had found her in.
“What can I do for you, Mac?” Blake wondered why the guy thought alcohol, being a depressant and all, would help numb the pain. But who was Blake to pass judgment? What the guy did and how he handled his problems were between him and his god.
From what Blake had come to learn, Mac had lost his girlfriend the year before. She’d died on the slopes, been airlifted to the hospital and cremated before he’d even had a chance to say goodbye.
Weird, eh?
Blake thought so too. He also thought sometimes life sucked like that.
Other times it just sucked.
The guy slammed his glass on the table. “I’ll’ve another,” he said, his words slurred over a thick tongue. He glanced at the small white nametag pinned to Blake’s chest. “Put it on my tab, Ashen.”
“Sure thing, Mac,” Blake said with a smile. Like the good doobie he was, following his boss’s instructions to the T, Blake turned his back and went to work on fixing the drink, ignoring the fact that the poor bastard could barely stand. But since the boss’s motto was, never send them away sober, without a drunken slur, or with money in their pocket, he poured. Blake was pretty sure this guy was batting three for three.
“Ashen…what kinda names is…is…that?” the man slurred.
It was a nickname he’d given to himself when he was an angry, confused kid. A shen was a demon. Ashen. He’d kept the nickname as a constant reminder of what he was, who he was and where he’d come from. Never for one minute could he be allowed to believe that he fit in, not in the human world or in the demon world. He’d pretty much ruled out the small bungalow, white picket fence and two point four kids.
Nope, a wife and family weren’t in the cards for him. Physical relationships he could do. But getting emotionally close to a woman and risking hurting her was a chance he wasn’t about to take. If he grew soft, allowed his heart to rule his head, he might as well lay out a red welcoming carpet for his demon side at the same time. Like his mother had always cautioned, any weakness in his human half increased the power of his demon part, allowing it to grow stronger and overtake the man. Blake, wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that happen. Yeah, he was a monster, but despite what most thought of him, he wasn’t a soulless monster who cared little about humanity. Which was what had led him into demon hunting in the first place. He’d made it his personal mission to rid
