A dangerous night at Phillie’s
By:
It was a late freezing November night in New York City as I strolled down the quiet windy street of Orlando, having just left from a long day at work. The alley whistled as the invisible force rushed through ruffling bags and seemingly making the night colder. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and pinned my arms to my chest to keep it from flying open as a strong gust of wind threatened to knock me over. Far off dogs barked mixing in with the city sounds of cars in the distance and different types of alarms or sirens. The windswept my jet black and tangled hair from my face that was red from the exposure from the cold as I looked up to peer into the large bay windows of the Phillie’s dinner. The old yellow faded florescent lights beamed down on three people who sat at the marble black counter tops lined with shiny red painted metal. The shiny coffee urns steamed slightly and an orange door that led to the kitchen in the back room lay just behind them. The waiter, Phillie, wore all white his face wrinkled with age; he reminded me of my grandfather, wise with age but had a hidden talent to make people laugh with the simplest of things. He was the best hunter I knew. I was his apprentice since my parents were killed long ago. He was leaning down to refill two white cups for the couple that sat in the corner at the end of the bar steam raised up as the tart black liquid filled the cups filling the room with the rich welcoming sent it casted around the room. The woman wore a tight form fitting red dress that closely matched her fiery red hair that flowed along her back drawing my eyes to her pale face. She spoke quietly to her companion. Her deep red lips pursed into a thin, disappointed line along her face like a bloody wound as she inspected her deep red nails with her cat green eyes that glanced up to me quietly, in a disapproving manner. I shuddered as I realized what she was. She wore a Glamour that hid what she truly looked like. I peered through the thick haze the Glamour created around herself. Her real skin shimmered in the fake light and seemed to be covered in scales. Her cat green eyes were entirely black and shinned in the light like black marbles. She pulled back her lips briefly to show her sharp teeth, like a sharks. I wondered why she was so mad I hopped it wasn’t at me. I had no intention of getting into a fight at the moment. The woman’s companion wore a dark blue suit with his grey fedora tipped back slightly; he stared down at what he had in his hands, it sparkled slightly, a coin maybe. His stare was blank, almost as if he were ignoring the woman in red, who just kept talking. He wore a Glamour as well his skin had the same texture but was darker and more apparent. His eyes were the same soulless black. Maybe the man that sat by himself knew what she was and would deal with it. The man that sat alone looked mysterious and oddly out of place since he seemed to blend in so perfectly to the scenery around him. He was hunched down over his steaming white cup of coffee; he wore a green grey suit. His fedora was tipped forward so it covered his eyes from view. He sighed as if conflicted about something. His breath stirred up and dispersed the steam that came up from his cup. I noticed him eyeing the demons with the sort of interest that only hunters could pull off without looking ridiculous and slightly creepy. He tipped his head back slightly and his eyes flashed in the light telling me he had the ability to see through Glamour. I was born with the ability but anybody could obtain the ability to see the unseen if you knew the methods existed and knew where to look. I envied them; they sat in the warm diner as I walked by alone on the deserted, cold quiet streets the only sound was a far off dog barking madly and the trash bags blowing in the wind. No cars zipped by along the street; no people sauntered along the sidewalks. The windows were shut