SWNOVELS Chapter 11: Day One
Angel’s POV
It must mean something pathetic, but she was excited to start! She knew it was uncharted territory, but she fantasized glimpses of a new future for the City of Lost Angels. Castiel was less enthusiastic, but promised to indulge her every question with honest answers. While she hurried to drain her cup, they negotiated her daily pay. Angel fought against everything saying it nulled the purpose of a repayment, but Castiel got her to agree to a free drink, bag of jerky and 2 jukebox tokens per day. Mr Whitesong believed she needed to increase her musical vocabulary to keep up with his.
Drink finished, Angel hopped down and smoothed her hair with both hands. Before Castiel had a chance to say anything, she had done a loop of the bar collecting empties, chatted to the nekos by the jukebox with a baggie retrieved, and returned to deposit dirty glasses and mugs on the counter in front of him. “I have a request for a bottle of vodka, sir.” She smiled slightly and held out a Ziploc with dozens of bullets inside to Castiel.
“Holy Hell girl.” Castiel laughed out, taking the baggie. He ducked behind the bar and clinking sounds eventually produced a clear screw-cap bottle to the counter. Castiel counted the nekos and matched glasses to the tally. Angel made two trips to place the items on the jukebox top for the group.
Glancing to Castiel who had circled the bar to ask some vampire patrons questions, she headed towards the armoured lady on the couch. She had short brown hair pulled into a tiny ponytail and hazel eyes that silently followed Angel all around the room. Her whole body was dressed in an oversized green steel suit, except for her hands which wore leather gloves. Angel stood in front of her with hands clasped in front and smiled bravely for her first real customer. “Hello Miss. Would you like a refill or anything?”
The lady watched amused and held the empty beer bottle out. “No… but,” Angel took the suspended bottle and shifted on her feet waiting. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, Angel, Miss.”
“Angel, that’s sweet. I had a black tuxedo cat like you once. Like, a real cat. Loved ear scritches and lap naps. His name was Tippy.” She seemed to stare past Angel at momentary memories, but Angel couldn’t tell if they were good or bad ones. “My name is Parker Frostwych little Angel. I’m a Heavy Machina of the Syndicate group.”
Angel immediately had a million follow up questions but thought they’d all better wait. “I’m happy to meet you Miss Parker. Um, I’ll be here helping all this week if you.. need anything.. that I can help with.” Angel stumbled over her words a little but Parker didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll be sure to visit again when my social battery is low then.” Parker gave Angel a pretty smile back. Her rise from the couch and exit was noisy, like wearing a belt of pots of pans.
Angel stood in place while she left, then hurried to Castiel. “I just met Parker.” She stated proudly, placing the bottle in a bin.
“I see that. I don’t think she’s ever said more than 10 words to anyone outside Syndicate before, so well done.” Castiel leaned back on the display wall edge again, crossing muscled arms over his chest.
“What’s a Heavy Machine’s job?” Angel asked, moving around the bar to be on the same side as Castiel and keep the conversation more private.
“Machina.” Castiel corrected. “Big guns. Big defense. Sort of a martyr role though. When all Hell breaks loose, Heavy Machina step in to cover everyone else’s retreat.”
Angel frowned deeply at that thought. How horrible. Openly earmarked for sacrifice, or sanctioned suicide? Disposable people, just like the many girls through Master’s door. She remained still and staring at the floor for many heartbeats with memories and new worries.
Her dark thoughts were broken by a curled finger under her chin tilting her eyes up to meet his sparkling blues. “Hey, we’re here to keep all of Hell contained, right? The city will have peace someday, Angel.” Castiel spoke softly but confidently. He stared at her while his finger slightly rubbed under her chin. She purred softly, a totally new sound for her, and leaned into the brief touch. She felt his need to say something else, but he dropped his hand and took a small step back.
Angel hugged herself from the lack of contact and gave a delayed nod to his words, mentally telling herself to toughen up and get a grip on her hormones.
While Castiel retreated, Angel wandered the tables for any refills. She met chatty vampiric twins Eva and Ellie with their gossipy girlfriends and red wine, kept a table width’s distance from a moody demon with following white eyes drinking mojitos, and refilled beer steins for a full table of seemingly sex-deprived vamp bachelors trying to get some vampirina attention.
Through the rest of the day she met another 10 non-Tribe patrons, although Castiel noted that not a single visitor had been Pack.
While Castiel polished the bartop near the end of the day, Angel stared out at the darkening sky from her perch on the arm of the dirty sofa. Wheels turning in her head, she stood and crossed to the jukebox.