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Demonic Evil

Updated: Jul 9

The air was filled with the cold and typical emptiness of November, eagerly awaiting the Christmas lights and the tinkle of jingle-bells. The morning fog was already hanging over the street like a thick, steel-colored curtain, wrapping itself around the streetlights like a hungry demon seeking light, only to extinguish it.

Three black E-Class Mercedes-Benz cars pulled up in an empty parking lot. Adela was already waiting, in a yellow coat with a blue card around her neck, looking as if her bright colors were inviting spring to arrive faster.

Accompanied by the slamming of car doors, figures in elegant, expensive coats stepped onto the concrete-covered ground; two women and two men.

"Who would have thought there would be no rain to remember?" Adela chirped. Pale faces flashed in her direction, momentarily freezing the smile on her face. "B-because it's November? November Rain... no? Okay."

Adela tried to tuck the discomfort between the folds of the scarf that she was needlessly adjusting. The phone call from the travel agency that got her out of bed that morning had been as unusual as the guests she had been sent. As the main tourist guide for the city of Popovača, she had done many tours for various high-ranking people, from ambassadors and politicians to singers and models, but today's folks obviously outranked the previous clientele.
Not only did their appearance exude aristocratic elegance, but the agency itself was decidedly tight-lipped and clear: discretion was of utmost importance, as was the exclusivity with which she had to treat her clients.

Humor is clearly not one of the desired exclusivities, she thought.

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