See I've come to burn your kingdom down WHO Raguel and Genna Nayar WHAT The exorcism of Genna Nayar WHERE Miller’s Tavern >>> ? WHEN March 15, 10 pm (backdated) RATING PG-13 (for language and exorcism stuffs, prolly)
It had been two weeks since Raguel had approached his sister and asked for her help in remedying the apparent rift that had developed between Genna and himself. Two weeks of waiting and watching, patient at his sister’s behest. You can’t rush her into feeling normal, Sariel had softly chided one night. You’re wearing the face of a man who was hardly kind to her.
His face. Raguel stared into the floor-length mirror he kept in the closet, studying the worn and weary reflection. Deepening frown lines marked the corners of his mouth, worry lines beginning to show more and more upon his brow with each passing day. All of it framed by hair gone gray with time and stresses inflicted by both Erik Lang and the angel. Sariel claimed it made him look distinguished; he had always thought it helped him seem innocuous. What does Genna see now? he wondered as he donned an ever-tailored jacket, quickly and delicately folding a silk pocket square and tucking it into place.
According to his sister, Genna had remained firmly against the idea of seeing him again. Sariel had steadily recounted her conversations with the young woman, color commentary included, detailing how their conversations about a certain product or men in general had given insight into her state of mind. It was always indirect insinuations, Sariel needing to protect her own identity as Sara Kane who, though ostensibly a friend to both Genna and Erik Lang, would not have a more intimate knowledge of their relationship to each other.
It was Sariel’s last report that had caught his attention. While visiting Lela, Genna had bought a product that - as Sariel put it - she normally avoided like the plague. “The scent makes her sick,” Sariel had yawned. “Seems a little odd. Maybe it was a present for someone she hates.”
“Who does she hate more than me?” Raguel had wondered aloud, only to be shushed for his negativity. But the thought had lingered, and as he followed its thread, he began to recall other details that he seemed out of place. He knew Genna well, very well, and though he had at first dismissed the observations as her hesitations to being around him, it wasn’t long before he began to feel the anger rise. He was furious, not with Sariel, not with Genna, but with himself, for he had been a fool. All the signs had been there for him to see, but he had been blinded by his own self-involved lack of confidence.
Possession. Some demon had managed to find its way back into her body. He sincerely hoped it was the one that had first possessed her, before they had met. It would be cathartic for both of them to see it finally destroyed, once and for all.
Bolstered by the realization, he set out with a plan. The demon had somehow managed to mask Genna’s presence from him, but it could not make her invisible. It would only be a matter of time until Raguel found her, and then, he would smite the demon with a fire hotter than hell itself. Of course, the exorcism itself would be delicate work; for all his fury and righteous retribution, he had no desire to harm Genna. It would be difficult, but it was doable.
There was a blackness behind his eyes as he left the mirror’s reflection, shutting off the lights with a wave of his hand. His steps were heavy as he descended the staircase to the cool night air of the alley. Then, free of his own protective wards, he vanished, in search of his prey.
Several blocks away, there was a jaunt in Genna's steps, a swing in her hips, a twinkle in her eyes as she made her way down the bar at Miller's Tavern. There was even a hint of a rosy hue in her cheeks that could be chalked up to the chill that lingered in the night air despite spring's impending arrival, but the demon liked to credit it to their secondary stowaway.
For a Sunday night, the tavern was doing fairly good business. Genna paused between two burly men - wolves, the demon determined - and ordered another gin and tonic, minus the gin. Couldn't be too careful, not when he had big plans for Junior.
A large, warm hand landed on the small of her back, just above the waist of her skinny jeans. Better wear them while we can, the demon had advised as he'd deliberated over their outfit for the evening. Now those fingers had eased under the back of her black leather moto jacket and the bottom of her cropped white sweater, and the girl that had once again been relegated to her mental prison shuddered. But the demon smiled.
"Another inch and you won't be getting those back in one piece." Shifting slightly to face the offender, the demon eyed him up and down from behind Genna's eyes. Her smile grew. The wolf was stocky, but not fat. Probably somewhere in the vicinity of his mid-thirties. He had sandy blond hair pulled back into a bun, and a thick beard that was at least trimmed neatly. I've seen you do worse, the demon pointed out, but got no reply from the girl. Ever since their meeting with the angel, she'd become more and more withdrawn. If he hadn't taken control, she might have spent the last two weeks in bed - no food, no water, no bathroom breaks. Her entertainment value was plummeting.
"Just wanted to say hello. No harm, no foul."
The demon arched a brow. "And you thought you'd let your fingers do the talking?" The stench of cheap whiskey hung around him like a cloud.
"If you give them a chance, you might like what they have to say."
"Yeah?" Her hand reached back, wrapped around his fingers, and squeezed. It only took a second before she felt the bones begin to crack. "Maybe we should continue this conversation elsewhere."
His lips pulled back, baring his teeth as he snarled. "The fuck?" His eyes flashed yellow and the wolf on the other side of her turned to see what was going on. Her hand let go and he jerked his arm back, preparing to strike her, but the demon held him immobilized with her gaze.
"Don't be stupid. Either one of you," she added with a half-glance back at the other man. "Next time, I suggest you use your words. And choose your mark more carefully." Lifting her drink, Genna pushed away from the bar - but not before leaning in closer to the wolf. "In other words, don't try to stick your dick where it doesn't belong."
Raguel had spent the better part of an hour travelling between one spot or another across town. He at least appreciated that the demon, for whatever reason, had chosen to stay local and not whisk Genna away somewhere across the globe. Given how much of an annoyance it had proven to track her down in the small footprint of Havenwood, it would have been far more frustrating to try and find her among seven and a half billion other people. Still, he had infinite time and infinite patience. He would persevere until he found her.
Thankfully, it did not take an infinite amount of time before he caught the scent of sulfur outside of Miller’s Tavern. Grateful for the hex bag his sister had given him to mask his identity, he stole a quick glance through the window. He could see her sitting at the bar, currently being harassed by a pair of men - werewolves by the look of them - although she seemed to have no difficulty in handling them.
He moved away from the window, retreating to the shadows as he contemplated the best course of action. It would be easy to simply freeze time and retrieve Genna, although her sudden absence would certainly be conspicuous. Waiting for her to leave would take time, and could possibly endanger others. Then again, the likelihood of his absconding with her had a lower likelihood of being noticed. And then demon would, of course, try to run, potentially putting Genna in harm’s way.
It was something of a dilemma, but a solution quickly presented itself. Swiftly, he created a perimeter a good ten feet from the door, lowering his palm to the pavement to burn a series of devil’s traps into the ground to form an arc. He did the same outside the back door so that, no matter which way she chose to go, the demon would be held fast.