Hell's Rayne (Book 1)

Chapter 12

My food finally arrived and it was truly glorious to eat. I'll say one thing for Hell, for all of the great things I could list about my home, demons were far from the best cooks. There were so many different breeds and all of them didn't half eat some weird and wonderful things – or disgusting things perhaps would be a more astute description. Hybrids like me were the only breed with a stomach for typically human food, but Hell was also not abundant with good cooking facilities; beyond a nice rare steak it was often hard to get a really good meal. The food was one of the only things that made time on the surface much more bearable.

As I ate I mulled over my options. Goal one of my case may have been about half completed, I'd successfully located my target, but I still needed to figure out a way to weed my way into his life enough to influence his corruption, and that proved to be more difficult. It was only when I took my empty plate back up to the bar that the ideal opportunity presented itself.

Frances took my plate from me and I forced a smile to my lips, which actually became much more genuine an expression when I spotted yet another chalk written sign beside the kitchen door. It read 'Help Wanted'.

“Thanks, that was lovely,” I said in my best, most perky, enthusiastic voice, though I'm certain she didn't believe it; trying too hard maybe? I let the smile droop a little and adopted a more sedate, professional tone. “Uh, hey, I couldn't help but notice the sign.” I pointed in case she wasn't sure which one I was referring to. “You looking for bar staff?”

She nodded, though a frown added deep furrows to her already creased brow; I got the impression that she frowned a lot. “Yes, the signs been up there for months actually. You got any experience working behind a bar? I'm short handed already, working every hour under the sun, and I really don't have the time to train somebody how to pull pints.”

“I've worked behind a fair few bars before. I know the drill,” I said.

“You're not going to be too busy doing...whatever it is you came here to do to work the shifts I need covered?” she enquired, arching an eyebrow in my direction.

It didn't seem often that somebody actually rented one of their rooms, I supposed it was pretty obvious I already had another reason for being in the village – and I knew I needed to create a 'reason' I could actually tell people about if I was questioned, no time like the present.

I smiled and shook my head. “No, I have a few things I do need to tie up around the village. Family business y'know, that's why I'm really here. But I'm not actually sure there's a whole lot I can do here on my own, and no idea how long I'm going to be stuck here before the rest of the tribe turn up so...” I shrugged. “May as well make myself useful if I can, need something to do with my time.”

“Uhuh...” she intoned, disbelievingly.

The lie had fallen so easily off of my tongue, decades of fabricating myself a background and wheedling my way into peoples lives, I was certain that my knack for 'acting' the part wasn't failing me – not entirely anyway, perhaps I wasn't quite up to my usual standards, but it was a good enough story. Frances just wasn't the trusting sort.

Still though, I was hopeful that she would offer me the job – desperately hopeful, if she didn't I'd have to think of another plan, maybe become an alcoholic just so I could spend all my time in the pub. Her quizzing me felt quite a lot like many other informal interviews I'd been given over the years, perhaps a little more critical and scrutinizing but on the whole it was the same.

I waited for her response, a small smile stretching my lips. If the sign had been up for months and she'd rejected all the other 'applicants' because they had no experience I was a shoe-in surely, if only Frances could work through that distrustful stance she held.