Bad Grace (Watcher Chronicles Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

to the rear of the counter probably being the first thing. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are, Watcher .”
    Frank nodded casually. “Very astute of you. Gimme an eighth of Jack.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet while the demon clerk made no move to fulfill his request. Frank paused while he pulled a twenty from his wallet. “What? You don’t sell booze in this place?”
    The clerk narrowed his eyes at Frank. “That’s all you’re in here for?”
    Frank shook his head. “Why else would I be in a liquor store, unless you’re selling something else behind that door over there?”
    Shifting to the right slightly to block Frank’s view of the door in the back, the clerk said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jack you said?” His eyes never leaving Frank, the clerk reached out to a shelf on his left and grabbed the bottle of whiskey Frank asked for. Set the bottle on the counter. Asked Frank for money.
    Frank handed over the twenty and observed the demon clerk for a moment while the clerk worked the till. To Frank, the clerk had no human face anymore, but instead the true face of the demon who occupied the human body in the suit. The demon had long winding horns that snaked over the top of his head and sloped down to the back of his neck. The demon’s skin was a dark green color, thick skin, almost reptilian, with thorns running down both sides of its face. When he looked at Frank again to hand over the change, the demon’s eyes burned a deep red, with elliptical pupils in the middle.
    Frank didn’t flinch at the demon’s appearance. The clerk was fairly typical for a low level demon. He was positively handsome compared to some of the demons Frank had seen in his years as a Watcher. The more high level and powerful demons, those guys you can hardly look at without your brain wanting to turn to mush. Some things are just not meant for human eyes. Half human anyway, in Frank’s case.
    The demon clerk smiled at him, blatantly wanting Frank to leave immediately now that he got what he came for. “Have a nice night now.”
    Frank smiled back. “I will.”
    Halfway to the door, Frank stopped, turned around, and looked at the demon behind the counter while breaking open the bottle of whiskey. “You know what, I’m curious,” Frank said. “What you got going on behind the door?” He took a swig from the bottle and watched the clerk straighten and push his substantial chest out.
    “I’m giving you one chance to walk out that door,” the demon clerk said, his red eyes glowing a touch brighter.
    Frank screwed the cap on his whiskey bottle and slipped the bottle into the pocket of his leather jacket. “You know what I am right? You know what I do?”
    “You’re a stinking Watcher. A demon killer.”
    “Now that’s harsh. You know you bastards can’t be killed, only destroyed. Your soul, if you can call what you have a soul, is set to zero, so to speak, right? You get to claw your way up from the scummiest reaches of Hell all over again.” Frank shook his head. “I couldn’t imagine that. How long does that take anyway? A long fucking time, I bet.”
    The clerk walked from the behind the counter and started towards Frank, his red eyes burning now.
    “I guess you know the score already,” Frank said just as the demon charged at him, his massive arms outstretched ready to grab Frank by the throat. When the demon was almost upon him, Frank leapt into the air and brought his fist down on top of the demon’s head. A flash of blinding white light erupted from Frank’s fist as it impacted hard with the demon’s skull. The source of the light was the energy channeled through Frank himself. A handy little gift from the archangel who created the Nephilim bloodline millennia ago. The energy—or bad grace, as Frank liked to call it—magnified the power of the punch many times so that even thick headed demons could feel that shit rock their skulls.
    The demon almost