LA: Let's just say I'm starting over.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no.
Warning: Rated M but nothing should happen for a while. And yes, there is an OC.
Chapter One
Acheron Parthenopaeus sighed, running a hand through his long, currently electric blue hair. Back in New Orleans and his stress levels were getting higher and higher every day. He glanced up at the night sky, speckled with small white flames. If night wasn't the normal prowling time for daimons, he might actually like staying out a while and relaxing.
That was a laugh.
Acheron slipped through the front door of a nearby, low-key bar. The lights were dimmed with no more than ten people occupying the small space. Music carried faintly over the drunken conversations and the ancient Dark Hunter was fairly certain it was Aerosmith.
He sat at the bar and waited patiently for the single bartender to notice his arrival. The woman's back was to him as she joked good naturedly with the two other men at the bar. Pitch black hair reached almost to her hips, the ends of the straightened hair actually brushed a few inches past her hips, dyed scarlet.
Finally she turned around and smiled. Acheron had to pause as he thought his heart rate sped up at the woman's smile.
"What can I get you?" The woman had a slight southern drawl and a voice that sent a shiver down Acheron's back.
He asked for something, his mind not registering what came out of his mouth. The woman placed a tall glass filled with a dark gold liquid in front of him a few minutes later.
"Nice hair." The woman flashed him a lopsided grin. Acheron coughed, swallowing a little too much of the strong drink she had given him. Clearing his throat he nodded his thanks.
A loud crash and the sound of glass breaking tore the woman's attention away from him. Nimbly she maneuvered away from the bar towards the back where two men were fighting. Against the two, well-built men, the woman was dwarfed. It looked like a child was trying to stop two drunk, full grown men.
Acheron stood, planning to help the young woman when no one else lifted a finger in an attempt but he was stopped in his tracks when the woman's angry voice, filtered across the bar.
"I have told you two time and time again. I will not have hooligans ruining my bar. You both better sit down, calm down, and find a way home. Now."
Instead of laughing at the small female, or brushing her off, both me nodded quietly and sat back down, neither one looking at the other. Scowling, the woman took the remaining beer bottles off their table and made her way back to the bar.
"If I wanted to deal with children, I would have opened a day care, not a bar." She muttered to herself. Acheron sat back down slowly, eyeing the woman. He was both impressed by how quickly she resolved the problem and confused by how willing the two intoxicated men were to listen to her.
"You listen to her, play by her rules, and you'll do just fine." The man closest to him seemed to note the Dark Hunter's confusion. The human was a bit nervous talking to Acheron, but that wasn't unusual. "The minute you start problems, even drunk, if you know her well enough," The man nodded towards the bartender who had her back to them, emptying the beer bottles she had confiscated into a sink. "You'll listen when she gets angry."
The human man fidgeted nervously when Acheron said nothing in reply, and finally turned back to his previous conversation.
A few minutes later two women came into the bar and talked with the bar tender in hushed voices. They had come in looking rather angry but once they finished their conversation with the woman, they had calmed down considerably. Leaving the bar, the two men who had been fighting followed behind them with their heads cast down. They looked like dogs running home with their tails between their legs. Interesting.
Time passed differently in the bar than normal. Acheron observed the bartender interact with the other customers for what seemed like maybe ten minutes. Yet when he figured it was time to go, the clock on the wall told him otherwise.
"Dark Hunter, isn't it a little careless to stay somewhere so late?" Acheron looked at the bartender in surprise. They were alone and she quirked a smile at him. "Surprised that I know?" Acheron didn't respond at first, studying the surprising woman. She nodded her head towards a door in the back and headed that way. Silently, Acheron rose from his seat and followed after her.
A single light bulb dangled above a landing, twenty plus stairs up, providing the only light in the small staircase. The woman started up the stairs at a leisurely pace and even two or three steps behind her, Acheron felt that he towered over her, more so than he usually did.
"What do I owe you for the drink?" Acheron asked when they reached the next flight of twenty-five steps. A light, airy giggle bubbled out of the woman who took the remaining stairs two at a time and opened the darkly-painted door at the top.
"It was on the house." Acheron stopped inside the flat of the woman and looked down at her. There had to have been a two foot difference between them.
"Scarlette Smith." The woman introduced herself, holding out a pale hand. Her long nails were painted black and were striking against her pale skin. When he took her hand in his, her whole hand barely filled more than his palm. "It's been a while, Acheron."