Chapter 7 Into Oblivion
INTO OBLIVION
“This is crazy!” The little demon-goblin stalker said after we got out of the cab and were now facing the building. One it was clear he did not want to go into.
He had promised nothing but my demise and end of the world style annihilation for my soul should I ever meet this guy, etc. etc. Honestly, I wished I knew a spell on how to summon duct tape by this point, as he hadn’t stopped all the way here.
Thankfully, I was now getting used to swallowing my replies and insults in fear that people would think I was just plain crazy. But then, as I faced the building where this secret club was supposedly hidden, I had to question whether, maybe, I was crazy.
Sabrina had instantly turned detective, reaching out to my mom’s coven and to other people she knew in the supernatural worshipping ‘lifestyle’. This meant that within a few hours, she had finally found an address and, with it, the strange name of one…
Wyedari Oblivion.
Of course, the mention of the name sent the goblin into another one of his chanting frenzies, and it was clear the little demon didn’t want to go home.
In fact, up until Sabrina had discovered the address, he had proceeded to make himself at home.
This included devouring most of the two pizzas we ordered, as in his words, ‘we weren’t quick enough to share’.
My sister had finally asked me what his name was, and after getting it wrong twice, he snapped,
“For Lucifer’s sake, girly, it's Bo… ru… ta!”
I rolled my eyes and said,
“Yeah, well, it’s time for a nickname, buddy.”
At this point, my sister had jumped up and down, clapping as she said,
“Bo! Let’s call him Bo!”
At this, he started choking on his crust, spitting it out and shouting,
“Fuck no!”
“Bo, I like it,” I replied, making him cross his skinny arms and tell me,
“Well, I don’t.”
“Bo, it is then,” I declared with a grin, making him throw his arms up dramatically. But then just before he could start complaining any more, my sister had said,
“Aww, Bo, I like it, it makes him cuter.”
I gave her one of my best, ‘are you for real’ looks, causing her to just shrug her shoulders and say,
“What? It does.”
But before I could respond in kind, he cleared his throat, slid closer to her, and said,
“Then for yer, beautiful, I will accept the name, if only to hear it purred from your lips as I slip my…”
“LALALALA! Don’t you dare finish off that sentence, or so help me, I will start rubbing my hands down this dress and potentially end up sending you to a realm where the demons are so mean they would use your little dangly dodger as a toothpick!
” I said, wagging my finger down at him and making him grin in such a way that showed two rows of pointed little teeth, enticing an unnerving shudder from me.
“Eww… graphic much,” my sister criticized, but I ignored her in favor of addressing the demon in the room. Doing so by folding my arms and looking down at him, like I was about to tell off some naughty child.
“Look, for the time being, we are stuck with each other, whether I like it or not, but if I hear one more sexual pass or pervy shit come from your lips, then tethered together or not, I will drive into the wilderness and dump you at some alpaca farm!”
‘Alpaca farm?’ Sabrina had silently mouthed, obviously questioning my sanity.
“Yum, yum, don’t know what they are, but they sound tasty.”
“Eww again,” Sabrina said before shaking her head and waving her hands between us. Her usual reaction whenever she was about to start playing peace maker.
“Okay, so you two need to chill the angry beans and make with the nicey-nicey, because like it or not, you are stuck with each other and being at each other’s throats isn’t going to help matters,” she scolded us both, making me frown, whereas Bo was clearly about to become known as Bo Smitten.
He grinned up at her like she was some famed demonic pinup girl he had on a calendar hung to his wall back home in Hell. Little yellow eyes all wide and looking up at her like some demonic little puppy dog in desperate need of wanting his belly rubbed. Belly and nothing else!
“Fine, but FYI, if I catch you trying to hump my sister’s leg, then I will neuter you with a rusty spoon… capiche?”
At this, my sister pulled me away and said,
“Okay, Al Capone, let's focus on getting you into Veneficus and less on the mafia-style violence… yeah?” I didn’t reply but continued to glare at the little bane of my life as he simply smirked back at me.
Of course, my disdain for the demon obviously didn’t extend to the way my sister felt about him, because after getting back from using the bathroom, Bo looked very different. Like someone had decided to give the damn thing a makeover!
“Voilà… what do you think?” my sister had asked enthusiastically, causing me to rub the bridge of my nose in a clear sign of frustration. My little stalker goblin was wearing a black T-shirt in what I assumed would have to be an extra-extra small.
It had a picture of a skull with its mouth open on the front with the words, ‘this is my happy face’ written underneath.
He also had on a pair of what looked like children’s jeans that were clearly too short for him.
Added to this very punk ensemble was a black denim studded vest with band patches on the back and chains hanging from the pockets.
“Erm… o… kay.”
“Well, we couldn’t leave him to walk around in that loincloth all day,” she had told me, after pulling me to one side as Bo continued to admire himself in the mirror.
“Okay, so yes, I get that, but tell me, where did you get the tiny jeans from?”
“Oh, well, you know my friend Veronica, the one with the kid, well, she popped in to say hello last week, also she needed some more Palo Santo powder she uses to make her protective spell candles… which did you know, they are going to be discontinuing at the supplier… right, right, not important…” she said when I gave her a look.
“Anyway, her little boy, Tommy, had the equivalent of a shit bomb in his pants, and she had to change him.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“You gave Bo Tommy’s shit pants to wear?” I asked in horror remembering this story and she looked back at me in disgust.
“What…? No! Of course not. She took them in the back and washed them in the sink using handwash… anyway, she didn’t want them to be wet in her bag, so left them here to dry.
I just figured I would buy her kid a new pair and say they were too stained or something.
Anyway, they are short, but at least they fit his tiny waist.”
I looked back at him, watching him wiggling his ass in the mirror, and well, yeah, she was right, it was definitely better than the loincloth.
“Well, just so long as he keeps it in his pants, then hey, I’m all for it.”
“Plus, he looks cute,” she added, making me roll my eyes and remind her,
“You think the Gremlins are cute and have a calendar of hairless cats in your bedroom.”
“Hey, they may look permanently grumpy, but so did grandpa, and we loved him.”
I had to chuckle at that.
“Yes, but he was always wearing clothes, and we never had to hug him with his shirt off,” I thought to point out, making her smirk.
“Good point,” she said, looking back over at who we had renamed Bo, my sister more affectingly doing so. As for me, I just couldn’t remember his actual name, and pissing him off was just an added bonus at this point.
Although, deep down, I knew this was my fault, and he had just been dragged into this as much as I had dragged myself into it. So perhaps I needed to cut him some slack. Because, despite derailing my meeting, he had seemed to have wanted to defend me during certain moments.
Of course, if he would just stop coming on to my sister, then that may help me achieve my goal of being nicer to him.
However, in the end, that lasted all of five minutes before he started swearing at me the second I hailed a cab to take us both to the address my sister had given me. Verbal abuse, I had been forced to ignore unless, as I said, I wanted the cabbie to drive me to the nearest psychiatric ward.
But then, looking up at the building now, I had to at least admit that it looked intimidating.
Like some secret club that didn’t exactly scream ‘welcome, stay a while’.
If anything, I had to look at the street name to double-check we were in the right place.
Yep, this was Pan Pacific Warehouse, 544 Mateo St.
“I thought this was supposed to be a nightclub?”
“And?” Bo asked, rolling his eyes.
“And this looks like just some old, abandoned warehouse,” I said, looking up at the three-story brick building.
Bricks that had whitened over time and were now weathered with age.
It had three big brick arches on each side of the building that looked as if, at one time, they might have been doors or loading bays.
However, each one was boarded up with either brick, wood, or metal gates.
There was also white writing on the brick in between the first-floor windows and the second-floor windows. Writing that was far too faded to read, especially as the sun was setting and it was getting darker by the minute.
As for where we stood, it seemed to be the only way in, which was a green metal door in between two barred windows that also looked boarded up from the inside. The number of the building, 544, was written in white above, telling me, once again, that I had the right address.
I looked up to see if I could see any signs of life inside, but there was nothing. Nothing but a rusty, precarious looking fire escape on the left-hand side.
“Oh, it’s a club, alright, and most definitely one that waits till nightfall before it opens, but it is not the type yer’ thinking of, human.”
I raised a brow at him, prompting him to add,
“Shots at the bar, shaking your ass on a dance floor, and getting humped in the alleyway by some stranger.”
I nearly choked on my spit!