by Kate Danley
"Ah," she said. She reached out and squeezed my bicep like I was a roll of Charmin.
"Hey!" I exclaimed, pulling away from her.
"Yes," she muttered to herself, not paying any attention to me. "Carrying the drinks would be suitable for a sturdy girl like you."
I was going to take 'sturdy' as a compliment. "Um... thanks."
She walked into the backroom and came back with everything already in a black, plastic shopping bag. "This is not authentic."
"Oh?" I asked.
"The illusion of your presence has nothing to do with authenticity. It is... what the tourists look for. You are for the view from a distance. Avoid getting too close."
I have no idea what she was talking about but I was pretty sure whatever the tourists wanted was going to be fine by me if it meant cutting this shopping excursion off right now. I grabbed the bag. "Well, thank you. I appreciate your assistance. Put it all on our tab."
And then I dashed out the door, grabbing Killian on the way out. He was starting to look at the cowbell display and that was never a good thing.
We made a quick stop back at our hotel room so we could get changed.
I opened up the bag the woman gave me. "Oh hell no..."
So, you know how there's that trend for Halloween where everything is a "sexy" whatever. Well, Killian got an authentic uniform. I got basically a German beer maid costume from Costume City USA. It was made out of material that was more paper than actual fabric. The skirt barely covered my ass. It had a petticoat which provided a modicum of modesty. There was a pushup dirndl and thigh-high tube socks. I thought about Killian's expensive costume and it suddenly dawned on me the woman was thinking I wouldn't be around long enough to pay off the uniform's cost, so she gave me the $29.99 version. Bitch. We would just see who was the last polka partier standing.
I checked the outfit and came to the grim realization I was going to have to spend tomorrow modifying it to hold my necessary weaponry. For the night, all I could get away with was my neckguard and a silver stake down my cleavage. Hopefully, no one would try to hug me too hard. I left my room and walked over to Killian's. He had left the door propped open for me. I guess when you're willingly about to step into a tent full of vampires, the least of your worries is some strolling vagrant who might steal your tights.
"Killian!" I called as I walked in.
"Coming!" he called from the bathroom. The door opened and if looks were reasons for killing, I would have dropped him right there.
"Well, Maggie," he said, his eyes practically popping out of his head as he tried to smother his laugh. "I do not believe I have seen you attired in such a way before."
"Oh, shut up," I replied. I rolled my eyes, but then remembered he was going through hell with the mortality thing and I should at least attempt not to add to his misery. "While I look like a German stripper at a frat sausage party, your lederhosen looks very nice," I stated for the record.
Killian checked out his ass in the mirror. "It really is quite fetching. And comfortable. I may need to rotate this into my everyday wardrobe." He thrust out his arms straight in front and started doing deep knee bends to demonstrate.
Listen, the elves are a pretty people and Killian could make a crocheted leisure suit look good. I just hoped he wasn't dressed for dinner. As in, THE dinner. Hopefully, there was an Oktoberfest policy encouraging guests not to eat the hired help.
I walked over when he finally stood and buttoned his white shirt to the top. "Keep your amulet hidden," I warned him. "With our luck, someone will recognize it, or worse, some dumb pickpocket will decide to relieve you of it."
He reached up and touched his neckguard. "Does this ruin the lines of my ensemble?"
I shook my head, pointing to my own throat. "I think you'll find there's a bunch of folks in this crowd who totally dig this collared look."
"Ah! It is a fashion accessory!" he exclaimed, looking back at the mirror with a new appreciation for its aesthetic potential.
"Form and function," I remarked. "Speaking of, are you armed?"
"Indeed! Several stakes," he replied as he patted a bulge in his pockets. "I am carrying wood."
I walked to the door wordlessly, allowing the remark I wanted to make die on my lips. I felt like I deserved an "A for Effort" trophy.
We made our way to the Oktoberfest. We were a lot more wary than the evening before. The parking lot was filling up and herds of people were making their way to the large, white tent. I wondered how many of the herd were going to be culled before the evening was over. My goal to provide them with complementary security service was, unfortunately, foiled. There was a metal detector set up near the entrance and security was giving everyone a pat down. As much as I appreciated a free massage, my silver stake was probably against the dress code, and I was sure a club which catered to the undead wasn't going to be pleased to learn I was prepared to rid them of their best customers.
"Shall we sneak in the back?" I asked Killian.
He nodded.
We quietly made our way around the perimeter of the fence. There was a guy dressed in a black shirt with the big words "Security" written across his chest. I walked towards him. He glanced down at me.
"This is Oktoberfest, not Halloween."
I looked down at my dumb costume and sighed. "It wasn't our idea. We're new. This is what they gave us."
He laughed. "Someone is sure you're not making it through the night." He shook his head. "Listen, if you want to go in there and be turned into vampire snacks, be my guest. But I advise both of you clear out by 9 PM. That's when the second shift comes in. You don't want to work second shift."
"Is it cool if we skip out?" I asked.
"I have no idea if it is or not, I'm just saying if you'd rather get fired vs. get eaten, clear out at curfew. Kapeesh?"
"Thank you," I said, grabbing Killian's arm. "We appreciate it."
The security guard grinned and looked me up and down. From the way he was smiling, I was starting to get the feeling I might want to take my chances with the vampires. "I've always had a thing for knee socks."
"Awesome!" I replied, pushing Killian through the door. "I think they're your size! You'll look adorable in them!"
And then we were inside the tent. The party was swinging even louder than the night before. Rows of people were lined up on the aluminum picnic tables. Piles of sausages and sauerkraut and pretzels the size of folks' heads were stacked on paper plates. The entire tent smelled like stale beer as it flowed freely from the taps. Arms linked, the revelers were swaying back and forth and singing along with the oompah band. Then the bandleader raised his glass and shouted, "G’suffa!" and everyone downed half their drinks. If my job was to keep the crowd hydrated, the band leader was going to keep me gainfully employed.
I wandered over to one of the beer stands and stood to the side. A guy dressed in a uniform like Killian's was pouring liters of beer into big glass steins. I was guessing he was a long-timer. He gave me a glance. "You working here or just in the spirit?"
"First day, boss," I replied, plastering on what I hoped was a friendly, beer maid smile.
He shoved six steins my way. "These go to #14."
I stared at them, trying to figure out how the heck anyone was supposed to carry all those at one time.
He sighed, exasperated, and then showed me. "You grab five handles like this and set one on top, support from the bottom with your other hand."
"Okay," I replied, taking a deep breath and wondering what horrible thing I had done in a past life to deserve this. "And when you say #14... is that a table?"
He was already pouring more drinks. "Are you kidding me? You must have been hired for bait."
"Excuse me, WHAT?" I said.
He shook his head. "Never mind. Look for the sign on the table. Everyone gets a flag when they place their order. And drop off any empties in the kitchen."
"Sure," I replied, glancing back at him. What the fuck had he meant by 'bait'? And should Kill
ian and I actually duck out a little closer to 8:30, because fuck this shit. I thought back to the evening's entertainment when we were here before and the vampires had gone after each other like cocks in a fighting ring, and wanted nothing to do with that.
But in the meantime, I had a costume to pay off, so I made my way over to the table. Surreptitiously, I let my tracker senses seep out into the crowd to figure out what I was dealing with. There weren't a ton of vampires yet. I guess staring at the pastry case is never much fun when you're starving and waiting for the buffet line to open.
I continued to let my senses drift. There seemed to be some faerie-folk, which concerned me after our little run-in with Mad King Cole. Everyone else seemed pretty human. I spotted the #14 flag and was greeted by cheers from a rowdy group. I gathered up their empties to their shouts of "Prost!" and raised glasses.
I looked around for Killian. Supposedly he was on trash duty, but when I finally spotted him, it appears that he was on "white trash" duty. Some girls with their bangs sprayed four inches taller than their head and their bras hanging out of their Wal-mart muscle shirts were hanging all over him, pretending he was regaling them with some fascinating tale. I guess that was all a part of the job description when you're hired to be the "sexy".
But that's when my tracker senses caught another being, a creature I had hoped never to see again in my professional career. I gulped and made my way over to Killian. I bumped him with my hip and he looked up, as if surprised to see me. I leaned across the table under the auspices of cleaning up the empty cups. I glanced at Killian then up at the band, hoping he'd follow my gaze.
"Fuck, Killian," I muttered. "Is that Mortimer playing the accordion?"
Chapter Nine
Mortimer was a male siren.
Lady sirens could call sailors to their death, and tended to hang out on the Lorelei, which is this big rock formation along the Rheine river. Male sirens, though, are different. Their voices don't hold the same sway as their female brethren. But don't you feel too bad for them. They have a whole other bag of goodies when it comes to musical talents. They channel their magic through musical instruments.
Last time we ran into Mortimer, he was playing a blood organ and ripping holes through space and time on a ghost ship called the Empress Adelaide. And now he was sitting in the middle of Oktoberfest in Torrance, playing a muthafucking accordion. As if the accordion wasn't evil enough on its own...
And to be clear, Mortimer wasn't evil, he was just nuts. And I use the word "nuts" as a clinical term. Loonier than a loon in a loony bin. He was bonkers mad. He totally didn't care that his music sent people to their doom, he was just excited he had an appreciative audience and a bunch of undead types who told him he was pretty.
Speaking of, he was looking better. A man in his early fifties, his thinning, red, sticky-outie hair was still flying all over the place. But his tall frame was not so gaunt and he had replaced his old burgundy velvet suit for brand spanking new leather pants and suspenders.
He had retired from his duties of dimensional doom to play the Sunday brunch in the Empress Adelaide ballroom. Seemed like a really solid gig. I wondered what the vampires had offered to lure him away.
"If you would excuse me, ladies," Killian said, smoothly gliding off of the bench.
"You coming back?" asked a girl who had used a sharpie to draw on her eyebrows.
"Wild unicorns couldn’t keep me away," he replied. I'm pretty sure he was trying to zap them with a little fairy glamour, but fortunately for him, those ladies were pretty well zapped on their own. He turned to me and took half of the empty steins out of my hand. "Allow me before you drop one."
The girls sniggered, but I played along. I pretended that the mugs were slipping. "Oh, help me! Please! They're so heavy!" I transferred all of them into Killian's arms, authentic lederhosen be damned, and then patted him on the shoulder. "Got it?"
"Perhaps you could hold a few..." he muttered.
I stacked on three more. "Thanks so much for your help."
We sauntered over to the bussing station and I grabbed a few more steins from the tables as Killian struggled along. My eyes never left Mortimer. He was completely blissed out, lids closed as he played along with the brass section.
"What do you think he's up to?" I asked Killian.
"Really, Maggie, could you take a few from this stack?" he pled.
"Sorry!" I replied, grabbing a few off the top. "Just trying to help you impress your new girlfriends."
He exhaled in relief. "I thought I had been hired for refuse disposal, but I was informed socializing is the main duty of this new employment."
"Really?" I said with mock shock. "Who would have thought?" I snapped his suspenders.
He rubbed his chest, but nodded sincerely and kept me moving as the band broke into another round of Ein Prosit. The entire room raised their voices to join in. "Do you know what the lyrics mean to that song?" he asked.
"Not a clue. We'll add it to our investigation list."
"Good, it would be most beneficial. I have noted they sing it every quarter of an hour. I had several people ask me and I told them I believed it had to do with a line of professional sitters."
I squinted. "That doesn't even make sense Killian."
"Line pros sit? Is that not what they are saying?"
"Ein Prosit."
"That is what I said."
I patted him on the back. "We'll find out."
"They were deep enough into their cups, they accepted it." He sighed. "So many human languages and traditions. I have been out of school for far too long and I have forgotten so much."
I looked at where the amulet hung around his neck. I wondered if his forgetfulness might not be because of the passing years.
We reached the wash-up tent and pushed the empty steins across the stainless steel counter. The guy slid a plastic rack filled with clean mugs at us. I guess we were working in a one-in-one-out system. I handed one to Killian and I heard a couple of nearby ladies and fellas swoon at the sight of Killian hefting it onto his shoulder. I totally should have grabbed the rack, because the dishwasher came out with a dolly stacked four deep full of steins. "Bring back the cart," he growled at me.
As we walked our cargo back to the original beer stand, I said to Killian, "Let's see if we can find Mortimer during the band break."
"WHAT?" Killian shouted.
"I SAID, LET'S FIND MORTIMER—" I stopped as I realized a bunch of people were staring at me. "I'll tell you someplace quieter."
We got to the counter and my boss had beers all lined up along the counter. "What took you so long?" he said.
I wheeled the dolly around. "I was picking up empties, then dropped them off, and then brought you some clean glassware."
"I don't care what the fuck you were doing, we've got thirsty people waiting for their beverages, Ein Prosit is about to end, and they're not going to have anything to down." He had a line practically the length of the tent and appeared to be going full meltdown.
"Sorry boss," I replied, gathering up the six full steins. "Killian, want to give me a hand?"
"Oh, so now you're recruiting the candy?" my boss asked.
"He's just giving me a hand," I replied, wondering what his problem was.
He pointed a finger at Killian's face. "You just focus on keeping those people drinking. Don't get your uniform dirty."
"They'll be ready to buy more drinks if we get these out to them," I reminded him, hoping to get him distracted.
He shook his head and consulted the receipts on his counter. "Two to #24, the rest to table #36."
And then we were off, dodging our way through the press of ever more increasingly drunk bodies. At least it wasn't much of a dance party. That is, it wasn't a dance party until they decided Ein Prosit should be followed up with The Chicken Dance. Maybe they were hoping people knocking over their drinks was a better way to get them to buy more.
We wove our way through the tangle of bodies and finally found
who we were looking for. I happened to glance up at the bandstand and realized that Mortimer had seen us. He beamed a huge, bright smile and took his hands off his accordion long enough to give me an enthusiastic wave. Great. All we needed was him running at the mouth and telling his bandmates who we were. We were so fucked if we didn't get to him the moment his break started.
I left Killian to schmooze with the crowd, but not before grabbing his arm and saying into his ear, "Grab Mortimer the second he comes off that stage."
He gave me a nod of understanding.
And then I was off, bussing tables and refilling them as quick as my hands could carry. I think I was gaining some ground on the whole boss-hating-my-guts thing. I should have introduced him to Xiaoming. That made me smile. They could take turns one-upping each other on how much I was the worst. Thank god for small blessings. And at least Father Killarney wasn't here to destroy the M-Team's annual per diem budget in the beer garden. As I watched Killian sit down at a table and link arms with some coeds, I wondered what Lacy, the blue intake officer Killian dated until the Queen of the Elves threw down the death penalty on their relationship, was up to. I wonder if she knew he was presumed dead or if she knew we wouldn't let something like that happen without dropping her a line. I supposed that if I was smart, I would have called her to tell her he was dead. If someone looked too closely, and if the Queen of the Elves was as intent as Trovac indicated, someone would be looking closely, it probably seemed suspicious that I hadn't. I figured that if I lived through the night, I'd put it on my to-do list tomorrow.
"HEY! I'm not paying you to daydream!" shouted my new boss.
"Sorry," I replied, grabbing a couple more liters of beer from him to deliver.
"And don't you be thinking about sneaking out at 9 PM..." he warned.
"Oh..." I replied. "I thought that was when my shift ends." It was a white lie, but a lie I wanted to believe was true.
