Mallory coughed a bit, pretending to be ill. It seemed to keep humans from coming near her, and with the hunters acting more like the slayers of lore, she wouldn't want to take any chances. Neither her uncle or father knew what would happen to one of their kind if they were killed -- the best option was that they simply were reborn.

She shuddered to think about the alternative: simply ceasing to exist. 

Glancing around in the chilly night, she spotted a dingy looking bar, and chuckled grimly to herself. Despite being a spirit of death, legally, she was unable to consume alcohol. Getting her wallet at the ready, she marched over to the bar, feeling confident with her dark jeans and combat boots. The fake ID had cost her a good fortune--money that she'd regret later when it came to paying off her student loans. Finally reaching the entrance of the bar, she found herself face to face with the bouncer.

A burly human, he sneered down at her, hardly blinking when he saw her ID. 

"Am I supposed to believe this is real?" he laughed. "Get lost, kid."

Mallory frowned, feeling unusually gutsy. The temptation to transform and allow him to see her for who she really was.... No, it was far too dangerous.

"I'm not a child," Mallory snapped. "I'm old enough to die -- I'm old enough to drink."

"And besides, it's not like you care, especially with your clientele..." she added quickly, peeking up at the bouncer. He hardly moved, and she frowned, temporarily reading his soul -- or as she called it, his expiration date. 

She'd be visiting his home that night, she realized. 

Perhaps he deserved it. She really needed a drink, and he was the only one staying in her way. 

Rolling her eyes, she grumbled a goodbye and walked around the corner. Hardly checking to see if any humans were around, a soft violet aura enveloped her, pulsing out as her human form vanished, replacing her with a frightening creature of despair. Her cloak covered her face, she walked through the walls of the bar, thankful for the protection of the witch's charm. 

Now, if only that goddamned succubus wouldn't try to touch her cloak again, perhaps she'd have fun at this bar... 

Of course, that was impossible -- she hadn't noticed the slayer entering the establishment. No one did.