We pulled up outside a place that looked like a biker bar mated with a mausoleum. Neon lights buzzed weakly overhead: THE BLOOD BUCKET—open dusk 'til doom.
Inside, the scent of burnt garlic, motor oil, and regret hit me like a truck. The music was loud, the clientele monstrous, and the bar stools suspiciously sticky.
"Nice," I muttered. "Classy spot. Really screams 'trustworthy vampire.'"
Emily didn't even look at me. "His name's Rafe. Don't make eye contact. Don't talk about his fangs. Don't—"
"Don't flirt?"
"Definitely don't flirt."
I smirked. "Noted. Though, just to be clear, I am allowed to flirt with you, right?"
Emily shot me a sideways glance. "Try it and I'll dislocate your other shoulder."
Fair enough.
We walked in together, pretending we weren't radioactive fugitives. Emily led us through a haze of cigarette smoke and ambient hostility toward the back booth, where a tall figure lounged in shadow.
He had cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, obsidian eyes, and the kind of tailored trench coat that screamed "dangerous but likes jazz."
"Rafe," Emily said.
He didn't look up. "You're late."
"I was mid-wedding. Jax blew it up."
Rafe blinked slowly, then tilted his head toward me. "The ex."
"Guilty."
"You smell like disappointment and lighter fluid."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
He stood and offered a faint smirk. "Jax Carrion. The human disaster. Heard you once took down a succubus with a flip-flop."
"She started it."
Rafe sat again, gesturing for us to do the same. A waitress slithered by and dropped off three drinks: something red, something black, and something that actively hissed.
I passed on mine.
Emily cut to the chase. "HellCorp's accelerating the Ninth Gate project. I had the key, but we lost it when the wedding exploded."
Rafe sipped his drink. "Romantic."
"They'll start the ritual in three days," she continued. "We need back in. We need muscle. And we need someone who knows where they buried the portal anchor."
Rafe didn't reply immediately. He stared at her, then at me, then back at her. "What's in it for me?"
Emily opened the briefcase she'd snatched from the altar. Inside was a shard of obsidian pulsing with infernal energy.
Rafe exhaled softly. "You stole a Fragment."
"It's yours if you help us."
He tapped one long finger against the glass. "That key gets me into the Crimson Bank vault."
"You'll be rich enough to buy your own bar."
"I don't want a bar. I want a private moon."
"Then this is your down payment."
Rafe gave a lazy smile. "I'm in."
We didn't get to celebrate. Because, of course, someone recognized me.
"HEY! That's the guy who blew up my cousin's summoning!"
A two-headed ogre stomped toward our booth, dragging a spiked bat and a grudge. Behind him, three other bar patrons stood—vampires, imps, and something with tentacles.
Rafe stood slowly. "I suggest we leave."
"Or we could fight," I offered. "You know, for team bonding."
Emily groaned. "Everywhere you go…"
The ogre swung first. I ducked, grabbed a chair, and slammed it into one of his heads. It broke. The head, not the chair.
Chaos erupted.
Rafe moved like a whisper in a tornado—spinning, slicing, grinning like a lunatic. Emily cracked someone's nose with a bar tray, then kicked a demon into the jukebox. It changed songs, ironically to "I Will Survive."
I found myself wrestling a were-platypus (don't ask), finally knocking him out with a bottle of cursed vodka.
When the dust settled, the three of us stood amid a sea of groaning bodies.
Rafe brushed off his coat. "That was refreshing."
Emily grabbed my arm. "We need to go. Now."
We slipped out the back, hopped into the taco truck, and vanished into the night.
Later, as we camped out in an abandoned car wash on the city's edge, Emily sat beside a broken vending machine, staring at the Fragment.
I handed her a can of still-warm root beer and sat next to her. "So. Rafe. You two ever…?"
She didn't look up. "No."
"You hesitated."
"I hesitated because I was deciding whether or not to lie."
"And?"
"I decided not to."
I sipped my own drink, watching her through the glow of a flickering overhead light. "He likes you."
"He likes danger. I'm just well-packaged chaos."
I laughed. "That's what I used to say about you."
Emily tilted her head. "Why did you really come back, Jax? It can't just be for explosions and closure."
I exhaled slowly. "Honestly? I got tired of pretending I was done. Retiring sounded good on paper. But all I did was rot in silence and remember what I lost."
She went quiet.
I nudged her knee with mine. "You ever think about that night in Prague?"
She smirked faintly. "You mean the rooftop chase or the cursed wine cellar?"
"Both."
She finally looked at me. "You kissed me during a shootout."
"I kissed you because you looked at me like I wasn't doomed."
"You were. Still are."
"But you smiled."
She smiled again, just barely. "You were bleeding. I thought you were delirious."
"Deliriously into you, maybe."
She nudged me back. "You're still impossible."
"And you're still the best thing that ever stabbed me."
We stayed there, side by side, letting the silence stretch.
Then Rafe walked in holding a binder.
"I found something."
Emily stood. "What is it?"
He laid it on a rusted table. Inside: maps, sigils, and a scanned memo marked HellCorp Internal—Eyes Only.
"They're not just opening the Ninth Gate," he said. "They're turning the city into a tether point. Permanent access. Hell-on-Earth, but with quarterly reviews."
Emily's expression hardened. "Then we stop them before they finish the circle."
"We'll need access to their employee roster," Rafe added. "And someone who can blend in."
They both turned to me.
"Oh, no," I said. "No way. I already did one suicide mission this week."
"You'll be fine," Emily said, handing me a blazer. "You've got the charm. You've got the sarcasm. You'll fit right in with upper management."
"You're sending me into HellCorp... as an intern?"
Rafe smirked. "Technically a Junior Compliance Liaison."
"That sounds like hell."
Emily handed me a forged ID. "That's the point."
I sighed and pulled on the jacket. "If I die, I want 'Allergic to HR' on my tombstone."
"You'll be fine," Emily said. "Just smile. Act corporate."
"And don't fall in love with anyone," Rafe added.
I winked at Emily. "Too late."
She groaned. "If you get me fired from Hell again, I swear I will haunt you."
End of Chapter 2