Neutral Grounds were blessed from so high up that the magical wards prevented the use of supernatural powers once you crossed into them. Sure, fistfights could break out here and there, but there was a strict no-weapons policy, magic saw to that as well, so the guardians of the Neutral Grounds, the Fallen Angels charged with their upkeep, were the only ones armed and generally, they were scary enough not to mess with.
These hallowed places were perfect for Balancers to find contacts to execute their work for them. Balancers were the untouchables of the Supernatural Realm. They aligned to no side, not good and not evil, and their sole task was to ensure that the balance between the two always swung relatively in the middle. Too much evil in the world? They would strike deals with Angel and Fae and other such alignments to do more good deeds to bring the balance back. Too much good? There were Demons and Vampire and other such creatures for that work, and so the pendulum continued to swing back and forth for them. Miles Kraft was no exception to this. He had but one goal this evening and that was to make contact with a Demon and strike a deal before he would meet with his student to get the latest news in the Balancer world.
Each Balancer fostered a student at some point in their lives, and it seemed Miles’ turn had come. It took thousands of years to become a Balancer, and being a student was a horrid thing. You spent your days running errands, gathering information, and performing menial tasks in the ‘name’ of learning. You were just a butler to a Balancer until you mastered your powers enough to be a Balancer yourself. Miles didn’t care much for his student days, and he didn’t care much for Jason, his student. He was okay as far as students went.
Miles entered Forever More, and he could feel the magic press around him. If he had any weapons, they would disappear only to reappear when he exited the club. He wouldn’t be able to use any magic abilities in the club; here, he was vulnerable. Here, he was as a mortal. You would wonder then why ward off humans? Well, the magic didn’t take into account making the supernatural beings look mortal. Miles chuckled at the thought of humans getting into the club by accident and bumping into an Angel and then a Werewolf. He walked down the long darkened corridor and into the club itself. There were pool tables to his right, a bar to the left, with a set of stairs leading up to a dance floor to the left of that. Miles walked up the stairs to the dance floor. There was another set of stairs that led to the next floor where there were tables to sit at and another bar. Miles went there and waited at the bar to order a drink. There was a set of stairs leading to yet another bar, but that was the VIP section; Miles didn’t care much to go there only to try to get his friend in later. It was such a bore.
While he waited, he looked into the mirror behind the bar. At six foot seven, Miles was tall enough to look down at most people, but he was slender, so at a glance, he didn’t seem intimidating. However, Miles derived power from his steely blue eyes, his pointed nose, sensual lips, and British accent. His words would put you in your place long before you raised your fist to him, not that anyone had ever tried. As mentioned, Balancers were off-limits, but Miles was confident in his knowledge that if anyone should try, he had a look alone that would be enough to stop them if his words didn’t make them dissolve into tears first. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t a Balancer and could pick a fight with someone, if just to experience that again.
“What can I get you then?” the cute little blonde bartender in the short skirt and shorter top said, leaning on the bar.
“Your most expensive whiskey,” Miles said, “neat and keep them coming. When my friend joins, he’ll have whatever beer you have on tap.”
“Sure thing, sugar,” she said before walking away, her breasts bouncing in her too-short shirt. Miles looked around, already bored with waiting. He glanced at his watch; he was on time, but clearly, his contact was held up wherever he was.
The bartender placed the whiskey on the bar with a loud thud and Miles took it and went to sit at a table, ignoring the bartender completely. Balancers didn’t have time for romantic little flings; it just wasn’t built into them. Their primary focus was, and always would be, the balance between good and evil. They were immortal beings—saints when they were human, Balancers after they died, and programmed to keep the world an equal and fair place. Miles had initially been stationed in Britain for the longest time and was due to go back there, but he had been brought to America because they were struggling after Obama got elected; they needed to bring the balance back out of favor for good. Now, if there was ever anyone destined to be a Balancer, that man was one of them.
“Sorry I’m late,” the Demon said as he brought up a chair to sit beside Miles.
“No problem, they’ll bring you a beer shortly,” he said.
The Demon nodded and waited until the beer was placed in front of him before saying, “So what is it you need to be done?”
“I’m thinking a serial killer since that’s your speciality, maybe a family of four. Tomorrow, if you have the time.” Miles sipped his whiskey.
“What’s in it for me?” the Demon asked, playing with the beer in his hands.
Miles smiled. “Souls, of course, you can keep whatever you want, and you’ll be compensated for your time accordingly. Will fifteen hundred dollars do the trick?”
“It’s two thousand now, inflation and all that,” the Demon said, taking a swig of his beer.
“You’ll have the payment tomorrow once the job is done,” Miles confirmed, finishing his whiskey and setting his glass down.
The Demon stood and left without another word, but Miles knew the deal was struck because he left behind a gold coin on the table. Miles pocketed it and waited for the bartender to bring him another whiskey. When she walked over, he said, “Best you bring me another for Jason; he’ll be here soon.”
“Whatever you want, sugar,” she said.
She swaggered off, and Miles looked over the railing at the bodies grinding together on the dance floor below. If you didn’t know they were all supernatural creatures, you would think it was just your average nightclub with a bunch of horny mortals out looking for a fun night.
“Did you manage to arrange it?” Jason asked as he sat down. The bartender brought over his whiskey, and he thanked her.
“It’s done, I’ll oversee it myself tomorrow and pay him.”
“I can do it,” Jason offered, sipping his whiskey, “I don’t mind.”
“No, no, I’ll do it.” Miles sat back. “What news?”
“Two Balancers are missing from the city,” Jason said. “It’s all anyone is talking about, but no one wants to report it to Headquarters.”
“Well, maybe they’re just busy,” Miles sipped his whiskey, “Maybe everyone should butt out of other people’s problems.”
“Spoken like a man who hates being around people.”
“I do hate being around people; they’re nosy and irritating and bothersome,” Miles said, draining his glass. “Anything else of import?”
“Good is still far outweighing evil and gaining each day,” Jason said, taking out his balance book. “Maybe I should strike some deals myself.”
“You aren’t a Balancer yet Jason, and you haven’t got the authority to. I wouldn’t care if you did, but you haven’t mastered your powers. Do that and by all means, be gone and be a Balancer.”