Chapter 1

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was that Devlin was at the club.

Again.

Here in Antioch, he’s just a regular guy ... well, that’s not really fair. He stands out, even in this demon-infested city. Devlin always dresses well - sharp suits, nice watch, blindingly white teeth. His smile can charm the paint off walls - I know who he really is and even I’ve found myself swooning slightly when he aims his attention in my direction.

Not that I’d ever go there, of course. Ew.

My name’s Amanda Fell. I’d offer a nickname, but I’ve never really had one - I didn’t really have much time for friends when I was in school, and now that I’m an adult (in inverted commas), not much has changed. So Amanda will have to do.

When I was a girl, I got visited by the Oracles of the Gateway. Freaked my mum right out - that’s probably why she bailed. They said that I had the Potential, whatever that meant. I was too young to really understand what was going on, but my parents got the whole run-down, instructions on how to deal with my Potential, what my training entailed ... and how I’d learn that I was The One.

The Protector.

See, turns out that Antioch - sleepy-looking town, maybe containing a higher-than-average percentage of eccentrics - is one of the Gateways between our world and the Demon Realm. And for whatever reason, demons always want to pass through, take over the planet and turn it into some kind of weird demon paradise or whatever.

Not all demons, I guess. Devlin seems happy enough just running schemes. I don’t know what his end-game is, admittedly; it could be more than just money. That would explain why he keeps coming back here, to the cheapest strip club in town. Either that, or he’s got some kind of deal with my boss, Marty.

I’m not a stripper, by the way. Nothing against girls who do, but it’s not for me. I wait tables, keep an eye on things. Keep an eye on Devlin.

But yeah, Antioch needs a Protector. And just in case something happens to that Protector, it needs backups - spares.

Girls with the Potential.

So that’s me. My parents waited in fear that my Potential would awaken one day, that I’d suddenly be told that the city’s fate rested in my hands. At least, they did until Mum left. After that, Dad was suddenly more worried about whether or not he was going to see a pair of tits on any given day, and I don’t even know what Mum got up to.

Until I started working here, this was Dad’s favorite joint. That’s sort of how I got the job in the first place. Marty offered me a job on-stage, but I’ve seen the trashy types that he ropes into that line of work. They’re nice enough to talk to, but they’ve obviously got no self-respect.

No, I’m just a waitress. Well ... waitress slash protection. Quite often when a demon enters a human form, they get a bit overwhelmed by the desires. Marty was disappointed when I turned down a job on the pole, but he quickly saw my worth - if dancers start going missing, then suddenly he’s out of business ... or worse.

I’ve never asked what he did before I got here. I don’t want to know, and he’s certainly better off without me investigating. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like what I found.

So yeah - I get paid to bus tables and serve behind the bar, but Marty and I both know that I keep my job because of my unique skills.

See, while I don’t have the full powers of the Protector, my Potential gave me a few heightened abilities. Strength, speed - it’s pretty hard to take me down. Not to mention my ability to sense demons ... especially when they’re about to do something wicked.

Anyway, Devlin. I think he must be recruiting or something, because he’s been in here every night this week, surrounded by teenagers - all boys, of course - who simultaneously set off my creep-o-meter AND my ability to detect demons.

I don’t know why, but when a demon enters the human realm, they almost always take the form of a male. Maybe it’s a power thing, maybe it just feels right. Maybe they have genders back home, and for whatever reason, the males are more likely to cross over.

Honestly, I don’t know that much about how it all works. See, my Potential was never realized. I never got assigned a Mentor, was never given the whole rundown. I worked out what I could, but there’s still a lot of grey areas in my knowledge.

Being the Protector became a bit of an obsession for me, right throughout high school - I guess I never even considered the idea that the current Protector would just ... survive.

When I graduated, I looked back and realized that I’d wasted my entire life until that point waiting for something that never came. I never really made any friends, I barely even dated - I think to most of the school I was just “that weird dyke with the muscles” (I’m not gay, but I did spend a lot of time working out, just waiting for it to be my time to beat up demons).

And so after school, I decided it was time to focus. I signed up for college, and I’m halfway through my journalism course. The job at Marty’s pays the bills and means I get to flex my demon-hunting muscles every now and again. It’s nice, putting all my hours of teenage research to use.

Plus - trust me - there’s nothing like beating up a demon to let off steam.

As I approached Devlin’s table, one of the teenagers gave me a wolf-whistle. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I forced a smile to appear instead - Marty lets me get away with a lot, but Devlin is a regular, so sometimes I just have to play nice.

He’s good tipper, too, so I tried to make the nice look natural.

“Can I get you a drink, boys?”

I expected a lewd comment or two, but everyone at the table waited for Devlin to pull the cigar from his lips and speak.

“When are we going to see you up the stage, girly?”

“When pigs fly,” I responded immediately, and Devlin’s huge lips slowly curved into a smile.

“I could make that happen,” he said, and I rolled my eyes playfully in response. He probably could, too - I don’t mind Devlin, if I’m being honest. For a demon, he’s not bad.

Well, he’s probably bad, but he’s at least fun.

“Whisky on the rocks?” I asked, writing down his usual order. I’d been working at Marty’s for a bit over a year, and he’d never ordered anything else - a demon of habit, I suppose.

“You got it,” he replied in his deep, husky voice, and a shiver ran up my spine.

If I were to ever ... well, I wouldn’t. Not with a demon. But if I were to, it would be with Devlin.

“The rest of you?”

A few of the teens asked for beers, some of them - in an attempt to impress their new boss - asked for what he was having. One of them, a cute guy with blond hair, ordered a cocktail. One of our best, too. It got him a few boo’s, but I wrote it down. Normally Marty’s actually quite a stickler for ID, but with demons I know he doesn’t care - they’re thousands of years old, who really gives a shit whether or not they managed to forge an ID or not. If the police raided the place, it’s not like a bunch of demons would let themselves be taken away in cuffs.

As I wandered away, the blond-haired boy checked me out. Again, something I’m more than used to ... but for some reason, this time it made me blush.