Disclaimer: Please see Part 1 Chapter 1...
SHADOWED SOULS Part 6
"We can't just kill Hewitt." Connor pointed out to Clem as they perched side-by-side on bar stools, taking another healthy gulp from his tankard on the prompting of that part of his brain that was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Despite the bright sun outside, Slim Willie's Bar existed in a state of perpetual gloom, which was probably just as well. 'Willie' himself turned out to be a short, slender, Spanish-looking human who had served Clem and Connor without so much as blinking when the demon had asked for two house beers. The liquid Connor had been served was cold and crisp, a pleasant golden colour and refreshing, slightly sweet to the palate and quite delicious. Connor had no idea whether in fact it really was beer, and had no intention of trying to find out – as long as his stomach thought it was consuming alcohol brewed from cereal crops, his psyche could deal.
A variety of creatures that looked like extras from every sci-fi movie in existence sat at tables alone or in small groups, or propped up the bar in solitary morose contemplation; George Lucas would have drowned in his own drool at the chance to get this lot for his famous bar scene in Star Wars, and barely anything in here would have looked out of place – or needed any money spending on make-up and prosthetics to get that 'not from this neighbourhood – of outer space' look.
There were several vampires in the place, and to Connor's initial surprise, several humans of both genders, but he quickly got over his astonishment when he discerned that the people…people…had to be mystical types – warlocks, sorceresses, magicians and so forth. They were the only types of humans confident enough of entering such a place and surviving to leave. Connor carefully avoided meeting anyone's eyes in what could be construed a challenge, having no doubt that any one of the weak-looking humans could in fact turn him into a slug without batting an eyelash.
"Well, that kinda was my plan." Clem admitted.
"Normally, it would be a winner," Connor reassured him, "but Hewitt is a hired killer, ergo, someone hired him, since I very much doubt he took it upon himself to kill a teenage girl he's never met just to keep up his mad murdering skills. I mean, yeah, satisfying as whacking Hewitt would be, it's like…treating the symptoms not the cause. What's to stop his employer from just hiring somebody else?" Connor pointed out, his voice unconsciously lowering anxiously as he continued, "Someone we may not find out about in time."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Tell Buffy." Connor conceded slowly. "Somehow I don't think an outraged teenage boy and you – no offence – are going to strike terror into Hewitt's horrible heart. We tell the Slayer and let her wring the information about his employer out of him, then we kill him."
"Sounds like a plan!" Enthused Clem, "So why so glum?"
Connor shrugged. "I heard Dawn and the others had to go to LA for a family emergency. Those tend to be stressful as it is, then the instant they get back home they've got us pair on their doorstep telling them to keep it at DefCon3 'cause another Big Bad is after Dawn. I'm worried Dawn is going to shoot the messenger."
"Pshaw!" Clem snorted derisively. "No way. Look, they've been to LA before – Buffy's exes are down there –"
"Yeah, it's a thing, looooong story." Clem shrugged, "but they're Champions of Light, like her, so lots of tangling with Big Bad. The gang have trotted off on these family emergencies before and come back distinctly mellow. Believe me, right now, Dawn and the gang are hitting Rodeo Drive for some major retail therapy, their biggest fight is probably Gucci versus Dolce & Gabbana."
To be continued in Part 6 Chapter 2
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