Here’s a little peak at part of the first chapter.  Now that Alix and his partner, Fagan, have to deal with a demon, they learn that explaining the basics of their world can be annoying and frustrating fun ^^

Warnings:  Humorous character interactions

Notes:  I think I’m going to stick with posting small little snippets and teasers instead of like, full chapters, just because I want to wet your whistle and make you interested in the story  ^^

***

The call came through about a week later during that magical time of night when – if you weren’t sleeping – you were studying, partying, or taking part in unmentionable activities that Fagan would’ve preferred over leaving their warehouse district home.  The neighborhood around them was constantly changing during their drive.  From the incredible amount of traffic through the congested, loud streets of downtown Minneapolis to the old houses that had transformed into apartment buildings for college students.  

“It’s amazing how many people think they’re invincible,” Alix commented from the passenger seat, “Just waltzing across the street whenever they feel like it.”

“It’s a Midwest thing, I think,” spoke Fagan’s gruff voice as he waited for a flock of students to cross from one frat house to the next.

“No, it’s a stupid people thing.”

“Can’t be as bad as overseas.  You people don’t even drive on the right side of the road.”

Alix rolled his eyes as Fagan finally started to drive again, the streets clear – for now, “For the last time, Fagan, that’s in London, not Paris.”

“Isn’t it the same?”  He was joking, of course, but he still enjoyed saying it because it always ruffled Alix’s feathers.

The rest of the ride was spent listening to Alix discuss the difference between the two countries – complete with a few French expletives that Fagan only knew the meaning of because he enjoyed giving his partner a hard time.  

Dox – still playing the part of civil captured demon – sat in the back of the SUV.  When the two hunters received the call there had been a nice little argument over what to do with Dox.  Clearly, he couldn’t be left at the warehouse – said Fagan – but it would be dangerous to bring him along – said Alix.  Fagan’s logic had won in the end, but Alix insisted that they do something to keep the demon at bay.  And now Dox was sitting with a metal collar around his neck with two battery shaped pieces on each side, putting him in an odd state of probation.  There was a slight hum of light around the collar, not enough to hurt Dox but enough to get the point across.  You do anything I don’t like and I will light that collar up like a Christmas tree Alix had said, slipping a small remote in his pocket.  

Dox wasn’t sure what a Christmas tree was, but he had a feeling if he had asked Alix would’ve demonstrated in less favorable ways.  

Fagan pulled from the campus area to the highway for an easier and faster drive.  They were soon turning off into a different neighborhood full of newer homes which were left untended and empty from a string of recent foreclosures.  The yards were kept in decent shape, “For Sale” signs long forgotten and left to fade over time.  Few cars dotted the driveways of the one or two occupied homes while windows and doors were covered in dirt and grime from lack of being opened.  Even the street lamps had long since burnt out and given up, but one remained illuminated on the corner where the buses would drop off the few people who bothered to live on this block.  

Their nondescript SUV drove silently around the block once, getting the lay of the land. Years ago it had been a brilliant gray, the kind of car that people tried to win on game shows where you had to guess how much money grocery items cost.  Now it was dull and out of date, though kept in good running condition because the hunts that Fagan thrived on were always the most unpredictable.  The last thing either of them needed was for their car to not be able to start.  

What few residents the neighborhood had were already fast asleep, the streets quiet except for the occasional stray cat yodeling into the night.  The SUV finally pulled into a driveway surrounded by trees, the engine going silent.  Alix stepped out of the passenger side, dressed in a mixture of black and brown blending in with the night air.  He kept his hand on the gun on his belt as he surveyed the adjoining yards, a second gun ready in his shoulder holster under his jacket.  After a moment of complete silence Alix nodded his head; signaling to his partner that it was time to move.

Fagan – “Randall” to his parents, but only because they believed in calling him by his dreadful first name – stepped out of the driver’s side and expertly closed his door without any sound.  He was a tall man, thin but well built, the lines of his muscles pressing through his dark shirt.  Unlike Alix he wore no jacket, claiming the cool night air kept him alert and refreshed.  Alix had retorted with a comment about being stubborn and not being able to understand why Minnesotans always seemed to be in denial over how cold it was. Stubble covered his chin while his black hair was long, tied back with a simple tie to keep it out of his face.  Rather than a gun on his belt like his partner he wore a long, ornate sword across his back made of an obsidian like black stone.  

Randall Fagan preferred close and deadly combat.  He liked having the ability to see his opponent’s face rather than keeping the safe distance that Alix had perfected.  Scars on his body would have proven this stance, but Fagan was good enough to not have any worth mentioning.  The few he did have had mostly faded with time or remained as pale blemishes against his skin that could be passed off as common injuries – slipping on a patch of ice, the thing he used to tell his mother years ago before he stopped caring.  The minute he was out of the SVU he was all business, his usual cocky grin traded for the serious look of a Hunter, his eyes ready to catch anything.

Behind them the back door of the SUV opened and Dox slid out in silence.  “This has been an interesting trip,” he said, “Please tell me more about this London and Paris you speak of.  The stories about the lack of ‘flair’ British cuisine has compared to the ‘elegance’ of French food was rather intriguing.”

Fagan covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh too hard when he saw the look on Alix’s face.  To his credit, the shorter man had managed not to go into a monologue about how dull fish and chips were, “That is not important right now.”

“It seemed rather important to you on the trip here.  In fact, I believe you spoke a different language.”

“Alix does that when he gets emotional,” Fagan couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Is that a human characteristic?”

Fagan shook his head, “Only if your name is Alix.”

“If we could please proceed,” Alix hissed to both of them, “I would rather not stand outside in the cold for longer than I have to,” it was bad enough that his lips were already becoming chapped, but he could actually see his breath in the air.

“You’re just not use to the-”

“I know.  I know.  Minnesota cold.”

“Minnesota?  Is that what this world is called?”  Dox asked.

“Just the state.”  Fagan watched as Dox tilted his head and spoke again, “A state is a part of this country.  The country makes up a large part of this continent.  There’s seven continents that make up our world.”

“Wonderful.  You passed junior high geography,” Alix muttered, and before Dox could ask more questions he frowned, “I’ll explain later,” but he didn’t mean it.  The last thing he ever wanted was to have a discussion about school systems with a demon.