let out through gritted teeth. His hand twitched on the counter's surface itching to wipe off the smug smile from the moron's face.
“Yes, Andy's in, let me get him for you.” He watched as the bartender dropped the rag on top of some glasses and walked away.
He disappeared into a door that Damien hadn't noticed before on the right back corner. Nathanael had said that place was usually crowded by witches, demons, shadows and bored hunters looking for some game.
Had he gone into the wrong bar? Maybe it was a slow night. Then again, he doubted that there were too many places with a German name on that island. He was about to go after the snipy bartender when he saw the man in question returning with a red headed woman by his side.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Anghelescu?” She addressed him in a low but sensual rasp that carried a strong german accent.
The alarm bells in his mind blared, complete with flashing lights that pushed him into action. His eyes darted around, prepared to ward off an iminent attack. Who was she and how did she know to call him that? He hadn't gone by that surname since before he had been taken by the Brethren.
Damien cased the distance that sepparated the other men from where he stood, meassuring how long he would have to dispose of her and the kid before the others where upon him.
“Please, no violence, Nephilim. The charm will expell you before you land your first blow.”
“You know what I am?” He asked carefully.
“I know many things, Lion.” Indeed, the woman seemed to know too much for her own good. She had a mystical air about her. She must have been a seer.
“Then you know why I am here.” He stated blandly.
“Yes, but I'm afraid that I can't help you without breaching the Covenant, I'm terribly sorry.” She didn't look nearly as sorry as she said that she was.
“To hell with the Covenant, this is a matter of life and death.” He didn't care about their pretend peace treaty. The anger at her quick refusal rang in his voice.
“So impatient – she said in a mournful tone – it always is with you Children of Lilith.”
“I hold no relation to that abominable creature.” He growled as she clucked her tongue and waved a hand in dismisal. “So you will not help me?” He finished.
“I will, but not in the way that you want.”
“Then you are of no use to me.” He began to leave.
“Be that as it may, know that you're on the correct path to fulfilling your destiny.” She said ominously at his retreating form.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He turned back at her pedictable attempt at regaining his attention.
“It means, that you are your father's son and that you need to remember that blood is thicker than water.” Like he'd thought, predictable, but efficient.
“Would you stop speaking in riddles, Woman?” He scoffed at her vage prediction.
“Lady Scmidt, my name is Andrea Schmidt, but you may call me Andy if you like.” Damien looked at the kid who had gone back to bartending as they talked. That was why the guy had been so rude before, when Buer's son had given him the woman's nickname, he had naturally assumed that it belonged to a man.
“Take the girl and leave, Lion, before you're made by the wrong person here.”
“Thank you for nothing.” Damien's words were spiteful and although it felt petty, he believed that it was rightly so.
“See you tomorrow.” He heard her say as he walked away.
He found Kennedy asleep in the back seat of his car. She had bunched up both of their bags and was using them as improvised pillows.
Vermögen was a dead end, instead of finding the answers that he'd been looking for, he had walked out of there with a whole new set of questions to which he saw no stopping any time soon.
He drove them to a motel back at the start of town where the word Windmill flared in bright yellow letters on top of a red vacancy sign. The parking lot was nearly empty so he took a spot close to the office's door and went in, leaving the slumbering Kennedy behind again. He found the front desk to be empty too.
“Figures.” He grumbled, before ringing the rusty silver bell on top of the counter.
A mousy man with a pointy nose and beady eyes came out of the backroom. He wore a wool jacket over a striped button up shirt that looked like it was on the run from a clothe's iron. On the jacket, he had a pin that read, “My name is, Rey.”
“Sí?” Rey spoke, flashing a crooked row of yellowing teeth and a mouth full of what Damien hoped was chewing gum.
“¿Habla Inglés?” Damien asked in Spanish, wishing that the man could talk with his mouth closed, yet knowing that it would be an impossible feat unless the man practiced ventriloquy as a hobby.
“What can I do you for?” The ratty man said again with a local accent, giving him a moldy smile that would have made a normal person shudder in disgust.
“I would like a room for the night.” He told him and handed over a hundred dollar bill, it would keep the guy from asking too many questions. He needed to hurry, Kennedy could wake at any second and find herself alone in the car again.
“Two twins or a queen?” The grossly absurd man asked with another nauseating grin after holding the bill up to the light to make sure that it was real.
“Two twins.” Rey turned to the wall lined with about sixty small keychains and took down the one with the number 18 engraved on it.
“Here you go.” He handed it to Damien without asking for any additional information.
“Thank you.” He took the key and held up a hand before the clerk could give him the change. “Keep it.”
“Have an excellent night, Sir and call me if you need anything, anything at all!” The old clerk cried excitedly, judging by the vacant parking lot, Damien had probably made his night.
He'd almost turned back to sleep on the car when he saw the floral wallpaper that lined the room and the dusty heart shaped cushions that adorned both beds. Damien finally understood why no one besides them was staying at that place.
He carried Kennedy into the room and tucked her into one of the beds, not even receiving a nod in reaction from the girl. She was dead to the world. He didn't blame her, her entire life had been turned upside down in a matter of days.
Damien hadn't the slightest idea or had ever witnessed any indication that revealed if God cared enough about his existence to listen to his prayers. Either way, he sent one up as he lay on the twin bed next to Kennedy's. There must have been someone out there who gave a damn or else they wouldn't still be alive.
Plus, he thanked him for at least having a decent bed to sleep in for once. Only, he didn't sleep at all. In the silence of the room, his body became concious of her every movement. Reacting every time that she drew in or let out a breath. He refused to accept the obvious and got out of bed.
He walked to the round table besides the room's door and sat on one of the two small chairs. It was only two in the morning and he spent the remainder of the night browsing through his phone's internet, searching for some kind of lead that could at least hint in the direction of the Golden Archer.
He thought of maybe going to the bar again that night, but after the soldier demon's attack, it was obvious that it was no longer safe for them to stay in one place for too long. That, and he didn't want to give the seer the satisfaction of being right about him going back there.
There weren't that many options left. It wasn't safe for him to fade. His energy would leave a trail behind and make it easier for them to be followed. He needed to talk to Buer to find out exactly what was going on, the problem was that there was no way to contact him without others finding out.
He found an old sticky note pad and a slight splinter of wood that was supposed to pass for a pencil and left Kennedy a note stuck to the lamp on the nightstand telling her to stay put, order anything from the menu if she got hungry and to go find Andy at Vermögen if he wasn't back by sunset.
He got in the Charger and drove around. A
lmost no shop in town was open for business yet. Damien stopped at the first pay phone that he saw. He was midly surprised to actually find one in working order since they were fast becoming an extinct breed.
He walked into the aluminum carcass of its booth and pressed the cero key. When the operator answered, he gave her the numbers to his rechargable debit card and Nathanael's emergency number and waited for the call to go through.
They had established a refference point that either of them could reach and have their call forwarded safely to the other in case instances such as the present one ever arose. He left a message in code that he thought that Nathanael could decipher quickly, hung up before a minute went by and waited again.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five minutes went by.
Finally, the phone rang alerting him to what he expected would be the answer to his message. He picked it up and held it to his ear.
“St. Nicholas Church. Graveyard. South of town.” Nathanael's voice came out from the ear piece.
Damien hung up and went to meet Nathanael at the graveyard that the message indicated. It was still early morning and the weather was so cold at that altitude that the place was still full of dispersing fog. It made it hard to make out Nathanael's form in the gothic array of gravestones and statues. But, he managed to spot the man's unruly mane of wavy chocolate hair as he walked deeper into the yard.
“Nathan.” He greeted the other man as he got closer and shook his head at the guy's depressing choice of