Anghela James, as she was known in the human world, was just leaving the bar and grill she worked at midnight. Shifting the Styrofoam containers to one arm, she reached up to take her shoulder length, black hair out of its clip and winced. The burn on her arm still hurt like hell. First thing she was gonna do after she got back to her apartment was ice it.
The blond, human bitch that was responsible for it was high on her people- who-want-a-chunk-out-of-my-ass list. The chick’s name was Heather and she hated Anghela. That wasn’t new to her though. Anghela was a loner by nature. Or maybe that was people in general that excluded her. They all either wanted something from her or for her to go away. Her birth father had abandoned her and her mom and her stepfather had hated her too.
Maybe Anghela just wasn’t normal. Instead of getting in with the glymera, which her pedigree would have absolutely opened that door for her, she chose to hang in the human world that wasn’t much warmer. Most females were out looking for hellrens and using their spare time to dream about whom they would eventually end up with. She used hers to research her leads on her vendetta and take martial arts classes when she wasn’t working or hunting.
Anghela’s finely tuned senses had come in handy when Heather had decided she was no more than a receptacle for abuse. That had started when Anghela had managed to duck out of Heather’s way so that the human dumped cold beer down her own shirt instead of Anghela’s. Apparently she did this to all the new waitresses and was particularly pissed to end up her own target.
That and Heather considered her ugly because she didn’t fit into the current mold. The style for most females right now was Blond-haired underfed stick figure slathered in makeup and stuffed into clothes that barely covered much less fit them. That was just not Anghela. And that’s how she liked it.
“Yo, Angie-baby. Wha’s crackin’ girl?” a woman called to her as she go to her apartment building.
“Same as always, Kyla.” she replied, rolling her eyes. Kyla was a theater major at the local college who lived across the hall from her. She liked to try on different personalities and this week, even though she was as white as a milkman, was gangsta Kyla. The girl was leaning up against the doorjamb of the building entrance, wearing way too tight shorts, UGGs, and her strawberry blond hair was in a ridiculous imitation of corn rows.
“Girl, it’s K-baby. Straight up.” she said and rolled her hips like girls did in rap videos, a decidedly uncoordinated move coming from her. Kyla had more delicate curves for something like that. Anghela had to laugh. She looked beyond ridiculous.
“Get out of my face and drop the act or I might have to beat the real Kyla out of you. Remember Shakespeare Kyla?” Anghela said, grabbing a very costume jewelry faux gold chain and breaking it off her neck.
“Not working for me is it?” she said in a normal, yet pouty voice before zeroing in on the containers of food in her hands. “Ooh, what’d you bring me? And what happened to your arm?”
“Not even if your skin didn't practically glow in the dark and I couldn't see the package for those fake nails in your pocket. Heather nailed me with a hot frying pan at work. Come on, Let’s eat in my apartment.” Anghela insisted. The building was a refurbished tenement house so the apartments were small but hers was definitely cleaner than Kyla's.
“I wish you’d whip out some of that karate or whatever on her and just go to town. Why do you take her shit?” Kyle asked as Anghela opened her door and ushered them to the small table in the kitchen.
“Maybe I would if you could go for more than a week being yourself. She’s not worth getting fired over though. If I can’t pay the rent here, I’ve got nowhere else to go.” Anghela’s parents had both been murdered when she was a year out of her transition and had been on her own ever since.
“You can stay with me if you get kicked out.” Kyla offered through a mouthful of food.
Anghela smiled, knowing she’d never take the offer. She liked Kyla as a friend but had no intention of getting more personal with the human. Besides, she was a loner, a survivor. “Let’s eat before this gets colder.”