Born To Raise Hell
Evie Bordeaux, Florida, 1st March, 1994
The first rule of surviving in Muspelheim? Never trust a demon lord offering you a drink.
The second rule? Always assume you’re walking into a trap.
I ignored both rules.
Roaring northbound down I-95 along the Atlantic Coast on my blood red, Ducati 1199 Panigale S, wind was ripping at my Kevlar jacket. All I could think about was how I was going to get my aura back.
Damien Arcane, the slimiest bastard of them all, had smiled that smug, flaming grin of his and told me exactly what he had planned.
Kidnap Gabrielle.
Break her mind, then unleash her to destroy the world?
Are you fucking kidding me?
Making her one of his personal soldiers, then weaponizing her, went against everything I stood for.
I wasn’t fond of the red-headed bitch, but I also didn’t like what Damien had planned.
Sisters before Misters, I guess? Yeah, whatever.
Truth be told, if I were honest about it, I did have a soft spot for her. After tasting her aura though, I found I desired her more than expected. Kissing her that night at the club…
Shit, it’s time to feed.
I was getting sidetracked thinking about the red-headed princess.
The salty air from the Gulf burned my nostrils as I pushed my blood red Ducati harder, the engine screaming its battle cry.
I wasn’t at full strength anymore — not since Gabby stole part of my aura.
Tonight, I needed to test myself. I needed a crew. The kind of crew willing to break bones, ask questions later, and never whine about bloodstains on their boots.
And I knew just where to find them.
The biker bar Devil’s Rest, sat like a rotting tooth off the side of I-95, flickering neon promising “LIVE MUSIC” and “COLD BEER.”
Half the parking lot was stuffed with Harley Davidsons, mostly chromed out and dirt-splattered. Exactly the kind of roughneck parade I was looking for.
I pulled in, backing my Ducati between a black Softail and a battered Roadster, engine still purring like a tiger ready to maul someone.
Helmet off, I shook out my blonde hair. Today’s look was classic biker bar bimbo, just dangerous enough to make them think twice.
Low riding leather pants? Check.
Boots with enough steel to crack skulls? Double check.
Low-cut black tee and a leather vest showing just enough cleavage and midriff to be considered a war crime? Oh, hell yeah.
As I stalked toward the entrance, heads started turning. Men with too many scars and women with not enough sense gave me the once-over.
I blew a kiss at a particularly bloated biker slobbering over his onion rings — just to piss off his scowling girlfriend.
Predictably, the woman stood up, knocking over a chair. “Bitch, I’m gonna fuck you up!” she screamed.
Humans... so predictable.
Smirking, I pushed open the creaking wooden doors and made my grand entrance.
The place stank of stale beer, fried grease, and broken dreams.
Cigarette smoke hung like a noose from the low ceiling. A jukebox played a song I was familiar with. Motörhead’s Born To Raise Hell.
Perfect.
Scanning the bar, pool tables were to the left. A dingy restaurant area packed with truckers and bikers to the right.
And in the back corner, half-shadowed, sat a wolf shifter gnawing on chicken wings.
Bingo.
But first… refreshments. I swayed my hips as I approached the bar.
A bleach-blonde waitress wearing daisy uke cutoff shorts approached, sizing me up. “Hey, sweetie. Grab a seat wherever. Want a drink?”
I winked at her, as I tasted her aura. “Whiskey Sour. And keep the tequila shots coming. Pour one for yourself too.”
Before the poor girl could scamper off, a shriek from outside the bar yanked every eye to the front as the doors opened.
The bloated biker’s woman howled. “You fuck with my man, bitch, and I’ll end you!”
I sighed, and turned around slowly, savoring the moment. “You mean this fat piece of shit?”
When I faced her, I smiled sweetly.
“You got two choices, cupcake. Walk away with all your teeth, or find a damn good dentist.”
She chose poorly.
A wild right hook whistled past my face, slow, clumsy. I sidestepped, grabbed a fistful of her ratty hair, and slammed her face-first into the sharp cornered edge of the bar.
CRACK!
Tooth fragments rained onto the sticky floorboards.
A hush fell over the crowd. The bartender stared at me like I’d grown horns. (Which, technically, I could… but it would’ve clashed with the outfit.)
Snatching my Whiskey Sour from the counter, I took a leisurely sip. The waitress whispered, “You’re a badass,” eyes wide with awe.
I winked at her. “Stick around, sweetheart. The show’s just getting started.”
Oh by the Goddess Frejya, I wanted to feed off this cute waitress in daisy dukes.
Movement caught my eye. A huge woman, towering, broad-shouldered, part Native, part Mexican if I had to guess—pushed her chair back, stretching like a prizefighter about to step into the ring.
Now this was interesting.
I sauntered up, drink in one hand, the other loosely at my hip. She sized me up like she thought I might fold under her shadow.
Amateur.
“I like you,” I said. “I tell you what, join me for a shot first. Then we can fight.”
The tall, muscular woman raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. She reminded me of the Jötnar, the blue ice giants from Jötunheim.
I fought plenty of Jötnar warriors before, and none have ever beaten me.
I gave a toast before we knocked back the tequila. “Here’s to us ladies, having some fun!”
“What’s your name big sexy?”
She grunted, licking her lips. “Emily.”
“Emily?” I purred, “you got two choices: Sit this out and join me later… or get your ass handed to you first, then you still join my crew. Either way, you’re working for me now.”
Her lips twitched into a snarl.
Oh yeah, she wanted to fight. Poor thing.
At least she knew what she was doing as she dropped into a boxer’s stance, fists up.
I let her see the shift in my eyes—from sapphire blue to molten gold and red. A flicker of ancient fire. Not human.
The last thing Emily may have registered… was me flickering forward, faster than her mortal brain could process. But who knows?
One punch to the jaw. Out like a light. Emily hit the floor with a satisfying thud.
I knelt briefly, checking her pulse—steady. She’d wake up with a splitting headache and one hell of a story to tell.
Before I could turn away, a man the size and shape of an industrial fridge lumbered into my path.
He stood a foot taller than me, his face was full of pot marks and rosacea. He wore a long gray beard which sported crumbs from his meal. A red trucker cap with a blue t-shirt and red suspenders attached to faded, dirty blue jeans.
I scoffed, “Get out of the way Papa Smurf.”
I put my hand up to his chest to push him out of my way, but he quickly grabbed me by the wrist to stop me.
“What have we here little lady?” he said with a nasty smirk on his face.
I pretended that his hold on me was too much for me to escape from.
I warned him. “Let me go fat-ass.”
“I would do as the lady says, Daryl.” said the wolf as he continued to pick at his chicken wings. “If you continue to fuck around, she’ll be the death of you.”
Daryl replied, “Shut up Asshole!”
Wrong answer.
I was hungry for blood. I had my foreplay. Now it was time to quench my thirst for chaos and feed off the pathetic humans in this bar. I decided to save the wolf for last.
Either he joins me or dies.
Quickly reversing the hold Papa Smurf had on my wrist. I twisted him down in front of me as I popped his shoulder out of socket.
Screaming in pain, Daryl yelled for everyone to attack me.
I shook my head. “Wait, you’re the Alpha?”
Without waiting for an answer, I threw a left hook to Daryl’s temple. Bones crunched and he fell limp to the floor. Papa Smurf was down for the count.
Turning around, I saw three guys coming towards me. Two more tried to flank me from behind.
Using my demon abilities, it wasn’t fair really, as I was faster and stronger than the humans.
The first of the three guys in front of me threw a straight right hand punch, I easily dodged it as I ducked and countered with a left jab to the ribs and a right uppercut to the jaw.
You could hear the poor guy’s jaw crack when I dislocated it.
Immediately, I pivoted with my right leg spinning clockwise and performed a leg sweep on the attacker to my rear. He hit the floor hard.
I swung back and was fast enough to land a right hand cross, effectively knocking out the second of the three attackers in front of me.
The third attacker was a blatant fool. He telegraphed a sloppy right hook and I was able to easily duck the punch and counter with a straight open hand into the assailant’s neck.
Sensing the second attacker from behind, in one quick, fluid motion, I pivoted and landed a sidekick to the head.
In less than 60 seconds, I had effectively dropped six of the bikers, including their leader.
Panting slightly, I turned in a slow circle, savoring the stunned silence.
I called out, twirling my finger like a magician, “Anyone else care to try?”
Several of the pool players began to move slowly in my direction. The wolf stood up from his seat and started walking towards me.
Damn I need to feed, this guy is looking mighty delicious.
“Relax blondie, I’m not looking to fight.” He said to me. “Everyone stand down. It’s obvious nobody can heed my warning, so I’ll save all of you idiots the trouble.”
“You gonna offer me a shot too?” he asked. “The name is Stuart.” he said as he extended his hand in greeting.
I shook it, noting the firm grip. He had controlled strength. Not Alpha material, but no pushover either.
I went to the bar and grabbed two more shots, leaving two remaining. Gave one to Stuart, then toasted.
“To working together.” I replied. “So, lets have a seat shall we?” Looking back at the bar, I grabbed my Whiskey Sour.
I nodded at the two waitresses, as I motioned for them to drink the last two shots. They looked on in surprise.
The first waitress who I met when I walked in, grabbed a shot. The second waitress was hesitant. She must have come up to watch the fight.
She looked at me and said, “You are such a rock star!” as she smiled from ear to ear.
I lifted my drink. “Then drink up sweetie.” “You both are coming with me tonight. Unless you’d rather work at this dump?” Both women looked at each other and quickly nodded in approval.
I followed Stuart to his table against the wall. Eyeing the wolf carefully, I watched him dig back into the massive plate of chicken wings.
He leaned back and asked me, “So, what kind of job are you needing help with?”
I smiled and leaned back. “I need a crew to rough up a couple of people.”
Stuart grinned. “From the looks of things, I don’t think you need help in that department.”
“I can’t interfere, I’m on a reconnaissance detail. I need a team to… test the waters.”
Stuart asked. “CIA?”
I laughed. “Nothing so boring.”
His eyes flickered gold briefly—shifter instincts kicking in. He saw the fire burning under my skin.
“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re R.O.G., aren’t you?”
“Bingo.”
Stuart leaned back, sizing me up anew. “Ok, I got your four guys.”
I smiled and nodded. “Make sure you don’t forget Emily, I want her on the team. Including you, there will be 6 total.”
“Done. What are you paying?”
I took another drink. “What’s your price?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Two grand each.”
“Double it. Four grand per person, payable after the job.”
He smiled back. “Deal.”
“Meet me at the Spice Shack tonight, and we’ll go over the details.”
Stuart leaned in. “Just so we’re clear blondie, I’m not food. I’m ok with fucking, but I refuse to be food. Got it?”
I smiled seductively. “Bummer, I was hoping to take my time with you tonight.”.
As I stood up to leave, I looked down at the plate of wings. “Enjoy dinner handsome, I’ll see you tonight.”
Walking towards the exit, I stopped to see how Emily was doing. The two waitresses I spoke to earlier were helping out.
Emily sat up on the floor as she was trying to get the grogginess out of her mind. She looked at me walking up towards her.
I reached down and offered her a hand up. Emily took it and was able to stand on her two feet. “Thanks.” Emily replied. “What the hell did you hit me with?”
“A left jab.”
Emily shook her head in denial as she couldn’t believe she got knocked out cold. Looking at the two waitresses, I asked their names.
“Veronica… Charlotte.” they replied. Veronica was the tall one with the pleasant attitude who approached me when I walked in. Charlotte was the short, cute waitress who enjoyed watching the fight.
“Listen up ladies. You have a choice. You can all stay here and work in this miserable dump. Or you can all work for me, get better pay, job security and not worry about getting groped everyday by sweaty assholes.”
All three ladies smiled and agreed. “Meet me tonight at the Spice Shack and we’ll go over the paperwork and fine print for your employment.
Walking out of the bar, I strode to my motorcycle. I was glad nobody fucked with my helmet.
I pulled my hair up and fit my helmet on. Swinging my leg over the Ducati 1199 I inserted the key and turned it on.
Hearing the roar of the 1052cc engine come to life, I pulled out of the parking spot and exited the lot.
Now heading back north to Tallahassee, I couldn’t wait to assemble my team and go after the little college bitch.
The real question was, would I be able to get back the aura I lost.
