++++++ Guys I am so sorry I didn't update last night but this stupid server was out.

Sorry.

I hope you enjoy.

I do not own ++++++

Fourteen

Everything in Malibu is plastic, fake, plastic and orange.

It's one of those artificial places that I'd like an atomic bomb to be dropped on. You can never tell who's demonically possessed or who's just a bitch.

I found my way to a bar called the Tilted Kilt, plans to drink myself until I forget the events of the last few days. The first problem should have been the no smoking sign out the front. But stupid me just kept on going.

"Welcome to the Tilted Kilt, how can I help you this evening?"

I looked over the blonde, incredibly tanned woman wearing a really, really tiny kilt mini skirt and matching fabric that barely covered her breasts. "Oh would you look at that," I frowned, "my grandfather's Celtic heritage has been whored out. I'll sit my bloody self-thanks. Less shame on the Celtic part of my family." I crossed by her and went to sit at the bar.

To be honest the bars that I were used to were shit holes, the kind of place that would serve me and not ask questions.

Thank the powers that be for the ability to use magic on a deck of playing cards. I took my card from my wallet and flashed it to the bar tender behind the bar. "Vodka, straight up, leave the bottle," I told her.

She looked at me, eyebrow raised. "Um-okay."

"Yeah I'm not in the mood to be stared at like I'm ten foot tall," told her, "just do your job."

"Hey, Sasha can I get a pitcher of beer!" Beside me a blonde cheerleader bounced up on a stool, dropping an empty pitcher at the bar.

"Sure, Lily," she smiled, proceeding to do just that.

"And there goes your ten percent," I muttered to myself. I reached out and grabbed the vodka bottle and a glass.

The bartender, Sasha, glared at me. But spoke to her friend. "On the house, in memory of Candice." She poured them both a shot of whisky and they drank to the girl Candice.

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and went to Bing, putting the girls name in my phone.

Her name was Candice Sutter, she was a second year student studying law at Pepperdine University in Malibu. The girls of the Delta-Gamma sorority house had woken up one morning to find her on their front lawn with her head around at a 180 degree angle. Candice wasn't the first girl though, the first girl was an art history student name Melanie Kelly, she was also from Delta-Gamma. Neither girl had a history of suicide.

Suddenly the bar stool next to me was occupied. "You're a hard girl to find, luv." John poured himself some of the vodka I was drinking and took a shot. "Locating spells don't particularly work."

"When I don't want to be found petty magic isn't going to find me," I told him as someone cut in between us. "Do you mind?" I snapped, pulling the guy out from between us. "We're having a private conversation."

He smirked at me. "Take a chill pill, babe. Maybe you outta drop the looser and come play with us?"

"Hell will freeze over first," I replied, pushing him away. "Buzz of Ken, I'm busy."

"Ken?" he laughed.

"Yeah, Ken," I smirked. "Not atomically correct."

"Tessa!" John cut in. "You'll have to excuse my young friend, she's not one for manners. Be on your way."

"Wouldn't wanna play with your little bitch anyway," he snipped.

When I turned, he grabbed my ass.

I cocked an eyebrow and two seconds later, punched him in the face, sending him flying. The whole bar fell silent as his body completely shattered the table. I slipped off the bar stool and watched as he struggled to pick himself up.

Suddenly his mates started laughing and taking pictures of him.

"Don't ever grab my ass like that again or you'll have more than a broken nose," I snapped. I dropped a fifty on the bar and headed out the back to have a smoke.

I was being followed, thinking it was John, I turned to speak but found myself face to face with the cheerleader from the bar. "What?"

"That was my boyfriend!" she snapped. "I think you should apologise."

I snorted. "Never gonna happen. You can dream though."

"Do you even know who I am?" she snapped.

"Tinker Bell?" I shrugged.

"My name is Lilian King of the King Media Outlet," she boasted.

"I'm Teresa Morgan of the I Don't Give a Fuck Morgan's," I deadpanned. "That was fun, let's do this again some time on say the 5th October at twenty to never." I turned back to light a cigarette-the two of us weren't alone in the alley.

Judging by the smell-demon.

"You should go back inside," I warned the girl.

"Not until you apologise," she snapped.

John pushed her back out of the way. "Keep him busy," he ordered.

I nodded and ran at him.

Managing to land a good punch or the demon grabbed me threw me against the wall-there was a distinct popping sound as my arm popped out of my shoulder. I slowly picked myself up and slumped against the wall and watched as John took care of the demon.

I groaned in pain, I'm pretty sure that my arm was dislocated. Gently I poked it, spitting out blood at the same time. "Little help here, Constantine," I grunted, holding the useless limb.

He came over, midway through lighting a cigarette. John tucked it behind his ear and made short work of popping my arm back into the socket. "You may be a pain in my ass, luv, but you are a damn good exorcist."

"I know I'm good," I boasted. "Thanks for confirming." I walked over and kicked the dead demon in the gut before he'd fully disappeared. "Oh I need a stiff drink of whisky and a good fuck. Not particularly in that order." I grabbed my bag off the alley floor. "I'll make my way back to the bunker on my own thanks."

"I don't know much about you but you always seem to be in the mood for a drink and a good fuck," John joked.

"It's cause I'm a classy kind of lady," I joked.

"You people are mental!" It was the cheerleader from the bar. She stood against the wall by the dumpster with blood all over her from the fight.

"Certifiably," I replied. I approached her, moving my sore arm around. "But in the morning you'll think it's all a sexy, sexy dream." I blew some dust in her face, knocking her out. She hit the ground with a thud. "You'll be right luv, no one will even notice you," I assured her unconscious body whilst drawing a symbol on her head.

"What's the Sumerian?" John asked, kneeling down beside me. "I don't recognise it."

"Oh that's mine," I replied. "Good dose of the flu took me out of commission just before Robert died. I created my own language. It's combination of Enochian, Sumerian and a hint of Medieval Latin prefixes." I stood up. "Thanks for the help but I got this."

"So you're gonna stick around here then?" John asked me.

I nodded. "Oh yeah. There's a good old fashion haunting going on around here. Two girls from Pepperdine University's Delta-Gamma sorority are dead in just under a week. I'm gonna stick around and take a look."

"You save Zed's life," John assured me, "she's not angry with you. She told me to come look for you and bring you home."

I rubbed my inner arm where the angel blood brand was, it itched. "If I'm gonna be Satan's bitch then I want to take a few more sons of bitches around with me before I do." I grabbed the cigarette out of his ear and lit it. "Thanks, chuckles."

He took another and used mine to light his. "Might stick around myself."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself."