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Quinnlyn
Quinnlyn stepped over the puddle of blood to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. She grit her teeth, seething, as she wiped the blood splatter from her black heels. Scars mangled her fingers. Most of her hand had healed, but her fingers were nothing more than shriveled pieces of skin and bone.
It had been months since the mortal whore took her nails and they still hadn't come back.
Quinnlyn didn't think her nails would ever return.
Her precious, glorious nails.
Gone.
Quinnlyn washed her hands until the red was gone. She rummaged through her purse, plucking her lipstick from a pocket. It was a deep, indigo color which was beautiful on Quinnlyn's fair skin and lemonade-pink hair. But her fingers were shaky and stiff like she were half frozen. It took far too long and too much concentration to keep the lipstick within her lip liner.
She smacked her lips. The color was a shade darker than her corset. A strap ran down her stomach, holding up her vinyl skirt that stopped mid-thigh. Gold chains that created pockets that didn't fit anything in them, ran diagonally like slash marks. She threw on a shimmering pink jacket, her iridescent tales around her thighs. The diamond-shaped blades at the end tucked nicely against her heels like charms. She fluffed her hair, stuffed some earbuds in her ears, and undid the lock to the bathroom.
She peered over her shoulder, taking in the massacre one last time.
Six bodies. The drunken women had been partying inside, touching up their makeup or fixing their hair when Quinnlyn had come in. They were gossiping about a mortal who made a god bleed. Had talked about their admiration for her.
No one had heard their screaming over the music.
The music swallowed her as strongly as the reek of sweat and alcohol did as she slipped back onto the dance floor. The beat melted into Quinnlyn's blood, melding with her bones until she was dancing her way through the crowd.
Clubs and raves always made her feel at home. The dark colors and rainbow of strobing lights made her blend in, yet stand out at the same time.
Quinnlyn tended to pick places similar to the one she were currently in. Dark, spacious buildings with bars and lounges. A bit more upscale than the typical underground or back alley clubs but equally as fun. It allowed Quinnlyn to show more of herself off without drawing too many questions.
The people here--at least in the lounge areas--had deeper pockets as well. And Quinnlyn was beautiful. Irresistible.
Sometimes, if she wanted to be lazy, she'd sip a drink and let them come to her.
Eons ago people had called her a siren. Before those wretched fish people stole the term.
The glow of her eyes drew them in first--started the conversation. She'd say they were spelled contacts and that her nails were inspired by some character from a movie or show. Then it was back to their place where she savored their last breath and bank account.
People danced, brushing their sweat and mortalness against her. Sometimes Quinnlyn caught the sourness of drugs as she passed them. She couldn't help but cringe.
Quinnlyn made her way up to the second floor. The bouncer already knew her and let her through the velvet rope.
She found a spot at the bar. It was against the wall, facing the V.I.P stairs. It gave Quinnlyn the opportunity to see everyone and for them to see her, but there was enough distance to keep her from smelling them.
The bartender passed her a drink menu. She took it with a sly little smile, reading it over until she'd found an appealing drink.
She watched the bartender, a curly-haired brunette with a sleeve of flower and portrait tattoos, toss the shaker beneath an arm and catch it. The ice clanked as she poured it into the martini glass, sprinkling a dusting of white pedals over the magenta-colored drink.
Quinnlyn sipped the sweet drink, eyeing the bartender make another round of drinks for a table.
The demi-god had always preferred female bartenders. They were less likely to spoil her drinks with drugs and women were far prettier to look at than men. They were easier to fillet too. A nice mix of fat and muscle. It was like cutting into the perfect steak.
A shadow drew Quinnly's gaze.
A woman strode up the stairs. Her jeans and grey shirt is what caught Quinnlyn's attention. Her dirty blonde hair was wrapped in a bun. Her tan skin seemed dull, even with so many colorful lights. But her eyes. There was a sharpness in them that came from a hunter, but wisdom that came of someone whose seen many centuries.
The stench of beasts was answer enough for who she was.
The woman found Quinnlyn, her stare unwavering and stern. She approached, a torch in the snow among the young in their revealing clothes and suits.
"Quinnlyn," the woman said.
The corner of Quinnlyn's lip curled like the end of a claw. "Dragon rider."
"My god demands your presence."
Quinnlyn sipped her drink. She already knew the answer even as she asked, "Who is your god?"
"Khalixis."
Hatred blossomed behind her ribs. Her ruined fingers tightened on the glass. "What does she want?"
"Your presence." A flat statement. "Do not insult Khallixis by waiting."
The righteousness spilling out of the mortal made the demi-god want to gouge out the woman's eyes. No mortal deserved to look at her with such boldness. Like Quinnlyn deserved to be the one being yanked at the end of the string and not the other way around.
She finished her drink, taking so long the woman bristled like a rooster ruffling its feathers. Then she stood, passing the woman and forcing the bitch to chase after her.
"Where is she?" Quinnlyn hissed, shouldering through the dancing crowd.
The woman led her to the back exit. It opened into a wide street with a mage-made river behind it. Quinnlyn could see the glimmer of jumping fish and their orange colors from behind a grey dragon. It sat on its back legs, chest puffed, and iron-grey wings flared slightly. Magic radiated off the dragon, hot like the pits of hell, drying Quinnlyn's skin. The dragon glared down at her with burning eyes. Orange glowed like the licks of flames around a center of black. A solar eclipse.
The dragon breathed in deeply, lip curling with disgust. "Typically if one seeks to blend in they do not slaughter large packs of people."
Quinnlyn flashed a tight smile. "A smaller mess considering what I wanted to do."
None of them had lasted very long. Quinnlyn had wanted to scream, slashing at their bodies until they weren't recognizable anymore but she needed her nails in order for that to happen.
"You are supposed to be hunting the mortal girl," she seethed, heat rippling through the demi-god's brain until she winced. "You are supposed to be an excellent hunter, yet I find you lounging."
"Those people had information about Norah," Quinnlyn said. "Norah will see the massacre and check it out."
The dragon lowered its head. It was at least three times Quinnlyn's height. It made her feel like a small bug. But Quinnlyn simply stared, even as the beast bared its teeth at her.
"You are foolish to think you may deceive me," the goddess hissed. "You know that the mortal's family is her weakness. Yet, you waste my time squabbling amongst these worms. Do you fear the girl, hunter?"
Quinnlyn let her face fall into neutralness even as hatred withered in her belly and that bond between her and the goddess burned like metal in embers. "There is no reason to fear her. She is a girl."
She had stayed away from the silver-haired family. Using them would be too easy. There would be no sense of satisfaction when Quinnlyn killed the girl. No true hunt. Nothing that required her to outsmart the girl and truly win.
Quinnlyn often sat and thought of those black tendrils. How horrifically it had hurt to lose her nails. What kept her sane was knowing Norah had to live with those tendrils--the pain.
Khalixis yanked on the bond between them. It was like a physical force grabbed her and jerked her attention forward. She lifted her head, the dragon's hot, rotting breath gusting over her.
Those orange, swirling eyes bore into her. The heat of the goddess's power pushed against her, forcing Quinnlyn to a knee.
"If she is not at my feet by the full moon," Khalixis growled. "You will understand what it is like to die between a dragon's maw."
Quinnlyn's golden eyes flicked to the red and orange sky and the blanket of clouds. A week. She had a week.
The demi-god clenched her ruined hands into fists. She forced a smile at the goddess, rage storming through her as she said, "It will be done."