A Vampire's Thirst
Once Nolan had been known as Temperance. He gave all souls moderation in everything. He was good at his job, and he called heaven home -- until he fucked the wrong seraphim!
Now Nolan wiles away time as a vampire slayer serving the devil, keeping an eye on Omen’s, a club for otherworldly creatures, and babysitting Lucifer’s son. Not a job he expected to hold for damn near eight hundred years. Nolan yearns to return home.
All Nolan has to do is utter three words and he can walk back into the arms of his archangel.
Temperance, moderation… ideas Nolan used to control in the universe. Neither of those things meant shit to him anymore.
Standing between the devil and death stripped away every remnant of balance imbued in Nolan upon his creation. Shit, if he hadn’t been buried between the thighs of some fucking seraphim whose name escaped him even now, he’d have provided the temperance needed to still the hand of Saint Peter’s murderers, and he’d be languishing his days above, instead of here on earth, in the devil’s playground.
Would God’s world have changed in any way if the Saint had lived? It had been the year twelve hundred and fifty two when the bastard died for fuck’s sake!
Nolan had stopped caring. He just wanted to go home.
His mind leaped to the last time he’d visited with Satan, the last time he’d looked upon the portrait of the archangel who had banished him and placed him at the right hand of the devil.
Gabriel wasn’t pissed off Saint Peter had died. He was mad as hell Nolan’s cock had been buried somewhere other than his ass.
Thunder rippled overhead, shaking the walls until pictures crashed to the floor. Glasses shattered to smithereens, sending deadly shards into the air surrounding Nolan.
“Now there’s a fucking omen.” Peris appeared in front of Nolan and clapped his hands, bringing everything to a grinding halt. “What in the devil’s name were you thinking about for this shit to happen?”
Club Omen’s was frequented by otherworldly creatures. Werewolves, gargoyles, ghosts, and demons, they all cavorted in the bar nightly. Only damn brave humans sat much longer than it took to finish their beer or cocktail and get the hell out. Dark energy ran rampant in the club, leaving normal people with a nice dose of fear.
“Why didn’t you let him finish?” Peris owned Omen’s, and his daddy was Satan. Nolan had had enough of Peris, wolves, gargoyles, every goddamn bit of it. He snatched a cold beer out of thin air, turned the bottle up and emptied it. “Trust me, he can’t hurt anyone but me here, and unless he calls me home, there’s not a whole lot more he can do but leave a few scratches.”
“Hell’s sake, which angel up there has it out for you that badly? Sure isn’t from my side of the family.”
Nolan cocked his head sideways. “What family do you have up there, jackass?”
“Don’t get pissy with me.” Peris swept his arms around the room, sending shit back to its proper place. “Damn glad no customers were here to see this angelic display of godliness.” He grunted. “Might give them the wrong idea of who’s bad and who’s good.”
Air whistled through Nolan’s lips. “Don’t you have someplace to be? Maybe wagging your dick in Moni’s pussy or something?” He glared at Peris. “I enjoy my own company just fine.”
“Oh, right, your own company, my ass. You’re f’ing around with someone up there, and damn if I want them tearing my shit apart. If Daddy… “
That was as far as Peris got. Nolan flashed up, snatched him by the neck, lifted him a foot off the floor and squeezed just enough to make his eyes bulge. “Fuck Satan.”
The floor shifted sideways, and Nolan dropped Peris, who skidded across the floor on his ass, slamming into the bar. Using his powers, Nolan lifted himself into the air. Still didn’t save him. Satan’s spiked, forked-tail slashed through a flaming gash in the floor, wrapped around Nolan’s waist, and drug him straight to hell.
Lucifer glared at him, eyes red and full of fire. “I think maybe you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”
Nolan smiled at the devil from his sprawled position on the floor. “You could be right.”
Available at Changeling Press
Growl and roar-it’s okay to let the beast out. - jhalisteele