Chapter 8

Became a frequent visitor to the Roadhouse bar, owned by Ellen Harwell. I met Jo, a pretty girl who dreams of being a hunter.

It was interesting to watch her get hit on by every other hunter.

Ash is a genius at what he does; he found most of the gods I killed. And he was the first to realize I wasn't human, but since I don't have any of that anti-evil stuff, he didn't care. I even asked him how he found out this interesting fact.

- Actually, it's pretty simple, if you know what you need to pay attention to, look. - And then he, with his usual cocky face, blew my mind with clever speeches, showed me incomprehensible graphs on his weird computer for half an hour, and in the end he finally finished me off. - See, it wasn't hard, any high school kid would understand.

- Yeah, thanks. - I'm gonna go kill somebody.

So now, back from a successful wendigo hunt, Bobby and I were sitting and drinking at Ellen's bar.

He sometimes quits his job as a coordinator and goes out to kill things, so he doesn't get rusty, as he says.

After a while, I decided to do a good deed.

- Hey, Bobby," we're on a first-name basis now, "what do you think of Ellen?

- What do you mean, kid? - I pretended I didn't know what I meant, or I really didn't.

- I mean, man, why don't you go for her? - I asked, glancing at the person in question. - She's a beautiful woman in every way. Only lonely, just like you.

- I'm a hunter, son," he said sadly, as he followed my gaze. - Just like her dead husband, and you know how he died. What the hell did she want with me?

- So now that I'm a hunter, I can't be happy? - It's none of my business, but I don't understand him. - You don't go hunting often, and if you stop at all, no one will say a bad word to you. You've done more for all of us than anybody else. So you can take a piece of your happiness in your old age and give it to a lonely beauty. - I winked at him.

- How do you figure that, kid? - He asked, with a glimmer of hope in the back of his eyes. - It ain't like chopping a vampire's head off.

- If I knew you better, I'd think you were scared. - You're not teenagers anymore, so come talk to me. Tell me you'll give up active hunting, stop drinking so much, and you'll be fine. I can catch a cherub for sure, that's the angel in charge of love, let him tag you.

- Don't be ridiculous, there's no such thing as angels. - He jumped off the subject.

- Well, they do, but don't get distracted. - It's just me, you, and Ash, and I'll be leaving now, and you can talk in peace. Don't worry about the demand, it won't kill you.

I quickly grabbed Ash and pulled him out, not even paying attention to the weak attempts at resistance.

- And, Bobby, one more thing. - I smirked at him, and why did he look so pale? Anyway, short spell, clap hands, and, - Done. - I said, smiling.

- Done what? - Well, you're suspicious, that's right, but I'm a little offended that my pure thoughts are questioned.

- The next twenty-four hours will be like a twenty-year-old's, so if you get a bummer, you won't fall in the mud. - and after laughing like a couple of horses, Ash and I left the building.

- What's up... You're such a jerk. - he said as the door closed behind us.

We didn't get back to that subject. Let's just say it worked out. Bobby gave up hunting, but continued to help the other hunters, giving helpful advice, but that was all.

Ellen kept him on his toes, and he didn't mind. They both walked about contentedly, radiating positivity into the space. People we knew just smiled and said that Bobby and Ellen looked ten years younger.

Of course they were, he by fifteen, she by ten, and I'm sorry to say that I've been getting all sorts of sicknesses fixed up.

One day I went to their bar again, it was morning, zero customers.

The newlyweds were sitting at one of the tables, chatting with a rather pretty woman of about thirty-five.

- Adam, come join us. - Ellen called to me with a wave of her hand. - Meet our friend Pamela Barnes. Pamela, this guy's name is Adam Smith, better known in small circles as the God-killer. - and she smiled slyly.

- And there's nothing to smile about, I didn't come up with that nickname. - I resented it, but in a way that didn't flare up to make it count.

- Hello, handsome. - Nice voice, I thought. - Would you like to keep us company?

- With pleasure. - I smiled back.

We were all drinking beer, Bobby was drinking tea, the fucking henchman. And he obviously wanted to ask me something, but didn't dare.

- Ask me something, Bobby, like you did before the first time. - I couldn't take it anymore. The ladies stopped whispering and started listening.

- Pamela is a strong psychic and she said you're not human? - He asked me seriously. - But you're not a monster either, what are you?

- Um, I don't know exactly. - The others looked at each other and I wondered what to answer, exactly the truth but not the whole truth. - Basically a hybrid of human, demon, and Nephilim, how I got that way is none of your business. - At the word demon everyone turned a little pale and visibly tense. But they asked about something else.

- Nephilim? - I don't doubt they understand the meaning of the word, but in this strange world, vampires don't shine in the sun or live in lamps, so you never know.

- The child of an angel and a man. - I give the necessary clarification. - And yes, they do exist. - I didn't let the question sit in my non-Philim liver.

- Ellen and I are rejuvenated, your work?

- A wedding present. - I replied calmly, my poker face our everything.

- A generous gift. - said Pamela, once again looking intently at her younger friend.

- I can afford it. - I retorted.

- What's the price? - And stared straight into my soul.

- Pfft, it's a gift. You don't pay for them. But I have a condition. - They tensed up a little bit, but I can't blame them, because only demons give those kinds of gifts, and only for their souls. - Joe will suffer, and suffer for a long time. - So brick face, serious tone. Ellen is going to kill me now, it's time to end the joke. - She needs to babysit her brother or sister.

Pamela was the first to laugh, followed by Bobby and me.

Ellen was the last to let go.

- Why is everyone so tense. - I said in an offended voice.

- You admitted you were one-third demon, and you're also a jerk. - Mrs. Singer answered, confident in her rightness.

- And I'm not a jerk. - Pamela stuck up for poor me. - Maybe a little. And I like you, boy.

- It's mutual, Pamela. - I looked at her figure without embarrassment. - Maybe we could get a drink sometime?

And so began my romance. It wasn't too long and it ended sadly.

I got a hobby, bought myself a farm in southern Kansas. I put so much protection on it, even the air was shaking with tension, figuratively speaking.

Used all of the not insignificant square footage of that farm.

Built a bunker just like Bobby's, from his plans, by the way. Only the bunker was much bigger and buried much, much deeper. I added protection against angels. And voila, you can build your own collection.

Of course, I first wanted to come prepared and settle in the Vault of Knowledge, but firmly screwed.

Find a place without any problems, but not having the key was not able to enter, the feeling that there is nothing.

Every way you look at it is an ordinary power plant. Even the violence of my near-perfect memory, to pull out the right image and move directly inside did not help.

What can you say, when such a piano flew past.

I was able to get my hands on the piano, so I decided to go back to the house.