by Taki Drake
“What else?” I had asked myself aloud as I crossed to the dresser. I had placed empty drawers back into the frame and opened the drawer with the red sweater and cigar box Gram had given me.
I had realized the effort that I had been exerting to ignore it all this time. I picked up the sweater in by shaking hands and shoved it into a bag. Disturbed, the box had opened part way. Blue light erupted out of the drawer, mysterious. A shimmering light had flashed, and then it was gone.
I had dropped the bag in shock. Hands trembling, I had picked up the box and opened it once more, and an arc of light filled the room again. Frightened, I dropped the box on the floor as I scrambled away from it, placing my back against the wall. My heart had been racing even as the wonder of what I was seeing shocked me.
“I told you she was holding out on us. Get it before she crosses the threshold!” Marcie screamed from the floor below. “Faster,” she had shouted as Shawn raced past my belongings cluttering the hallway, slipping on the mess that they had created.
Scrambling on all fours, I had been terrified of what was happening. Knowing that Gram wouldn’t have given me something that would harm me, I grabbed the box and rolled through the portal that appeared in the center of my bedroom, chased by their screams of rage.
<<<>>>
“That’s how you came to be here?”
“Yes.”
“You have no idea what is in the attic then?”
“No. I suppose I will have to go back at some point to understand what that is about. But really, I’ve been happy here.”
“I can see that.”
Chapter 12– Hostess with the Most
Madrik was watching Wynn’s face as rapid and complex mixtures of emotions appeared and disappeared. From the way that her eyes looked at the right-hand door and then tracked to various parts of the room, the bar manager knew that she was reliving her first day in the Badger Hole bar.
His skin rippled with the feeling of goosebumps as he remembered how the slamming of the door had chopped off the screams of rage beyond it. He had turned to look at the woman on the floor as she managed to get her trembling legs underneath her. Madrik would’ve gone and helped her, but Brechal was faster.
For a huge man, the bartender moved quickly and confidently. Madrik had been surprised when the woman hadn’t screamed and fled from the demonic -appearing mobile mountain. Instead, she had looked Brechal deeply in his eyes and then apparently decided to trust him.
Although she occasionally stared intently for a moment at the people in the BHB, the young woman had been surprisingly accepting and tolerant of the strangeness of the people that she was meeting and what must’ve been a very confusing environment.
Madrik had been concerned that she really wasn’t going to fit into the bar and unsure of what role she could fill. The slightly-built woman did not match his preconceived notions of what an effective barmaid would look like. The BHB had no such reservations, exploding with excitement along their companion bond as soon as Wynn had shown up. Madrik had gone along with it for the first bit, operating on faith in the BHB’s judgment. It had not taken the bar manager long before it was no longer a matter of belief but experience that let him trust her.
When she had explained that she had minor magic abilities, Madrik been very encouraged. Every day he could see how she applied those to make the bar more welcoming and a safe place to be. The customers could tell the difference. Tables, where arguments were getting louder, would ease, and the different sides would be smiling at each other as the waitress left the table. She could walk over to a drinker who was glaring around the room and smile at him, and he would break into an answering grin.
Madrik could feel it in himself. When Wynn smiled, the day always looked brighter. He didn’t know what sort of magic this was, but the bar manager knew that he was blessed to have the young woman work in the BHB. With or without magic, she was an asset and was well on her way to becoming everyone’s friend.
Even now, he thought as she left the mental room of memory that she had visited and stepped back into the “now” of the bar. She glanced around the room quickly and immediately headed toward the table where an argument was brewing between two mercenaries.
Madrik smiled once more to himself and then headed toward the kitchen to check the supply levels with the cook. He knew that Najeer had been waiting patiently and he didn’t want to delay whatever actions needed to be taken to ensure that their Grand Opening party was the best he could be.
Wynn knew that her fitting into the life of the Badger Hole bar had been almost effortless. She felt an immediate sense of connection to the bar and to the strong-minded bar manager and the cynical but caring bartender. It was so lovely to be able to realize and do things that she enjoyed. Finding out that she had magic had been a shock. Reading about it in the letter that her grandmother had left had turned her world upside down. Her whole experience with the close encounter with the casual evil of her grandmother’s former nurse and her accomplice had frightened her to the depths of her being, but her reception at the BHB made up for it.
Here she felt protected and supported. Apparently, it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to get hurt, In fact, she still ached from the encounter with an obstreperous client the other night. However, others had come to her rescue and would have taken care of her, but she hadn’t needed them. She had stood up for herself, fought back. Even though she might have been more seriously injured without their assistance, she still took responsibility for her own life. There was something freeing in that. A sense of empowerment that Wynn had never felt before in her life.
The ability to decorate and change things to make a comfortable place for people was a fantastic feeling. Something that she could do and provide benefit to people. But that small posture of defiance, that moment where she did something for herself, would always be a memory that she would treasure.
Just then, a large hand came gently down on her shoulder, and a familiar voice asked, “Wynn? Are you okay?”
It was Alastair, the bartender’s friend, and head bouncer. Wynn looked at him and flashed her sunny smile, seeing an immediate easing of the concern in his face. Alastair was the big brother that she never had. He was protective and helpful without being too clingy. When she had been growing up, she would hear about other people’s brothers and would grieve for her own lack of siblings. At this point, it seemed like she had gotten the best of both worlds.
She never had to deal with a bratty little brother growing up or an overprotective one. But now, she had an adult brother that had all of the stormy disturbances of adolescents behind him and had been refined down into a wonderful man, someone that she trusted.
<<<>>>
There was a disturbance in the overall feeling of the bar. Madrik could feel it in his skin where goosebumps raced up and down his limbs, and in the ends of his hair as they tried to stand up. The BHB didn’t seem to be having a problem, but any new and strange feeling or input to his senses was still suspect for Madrik. Perhaps after he had years of experience with the bar he might not be so reactive but right now everything was new, and he was unsure of his ability to accurately interpret what was going on.
Checking along his bond to the BHB, Madrik found himself heading for the stairs to the second floor. Unsure of why he was doing that, he paused briefly midway up the staircase and queried the BHB. His mind was washed with images that he couldn’t interpret well enough but knew that they referenced something that was occurring on the second floor. Concerned at the timing, Madrik took the steps two by two, convinced that there was going to be a disaster waiting for him upstairs.
At first glance, everything looked the same. There were still three main hallways all radiating out from the landing at the top of the staircase. A quick glance down the right and central halls showed no new doors and no change in the floor or ceiling.
It was only when he looked the other way that he saw something different. Before, this hallway had only contained a smal
l number of doors. When Madrik had explored them earlier, they look like guestrooms. Simple rooms with attached bathrooms that would hold travelers in a pinch. That hallway was now changed.
Instead of a small, short hallway with quiet carpeting and dim lighting, the corridor had expanded to almost two times the width and at least four times its length. There were two chandeliers placed evenly apart going down its distance.
Where staggered pairs of doors had been situated in each wall, there were now five doorways that led off each side and another, different entrance that straddled the end of the hall.
Feeling concerned and disquieted by the advent of something new close to his Grand Opening, Madrik walked to the first doorway on his right and reached for the door handle. Before he could even touch it, the door swung open. The bar manager could feel the burbling pride and smug satisfaction coming through his bond with the BHB. The bar was obviously proud of itself, and Madrik vowed to himself that he would not ruin the fun that his companion was having.
The room was magnificent. Instead of a simple sleeping room with an attached bathroom, this was a palatial suite. Designed to impress and populated with many comforts, this would be a place for a VIP guest, someone who was used to the more elegant things in life.
Madrik inspected each of the chambers. Only one of the doors in the hallway had the fancy rooms, but even the others looked upgraded. Amazed at the improvements that had been done in such a quick time, Madrik tried to understand how the BHB had been able to make these modifications without any assistance.
Interpreting the images that were slung his way in a rapid-fire exchange with the bar, Madrik came to the conclusion that somehow all the activity that was going on for the Grand Opening was energizing the BHB. With the extra power, the BHB was able to do many things. When he asked the BHB on what the limitations were, all that Madrik got in return was a picture of the Storyteller.
Disgruntled, Madrik didn’t even bother to inspect the last three rooms. He turned and headed down the to the first floor moving with a determined stride and specific focus. He had been asking all along what was going on, but the blasted Storyteller wasn’t very forthcoming. It was time the old man explained what he knew, instead of just playing around with Madrik and his staff’s lives. The old man had his agenda, and he meddled when he chose, but Madrik was tired of being fed little bits of information like pearls dropping from the man’s hands.
Unfortunately, when Madrik reached the first floor, the Storyteller was nowhere in sight. Does he have some sort of radar that tells them when I’m looking for him? thought Madrik. It would appear so.
Seeing Alastair moving tables around one more time under Wynn’s direction, Madrik asked the bouncer, “Have you seen the Storyteller? I thought the old man was just here.”
Alastair responded, saying, “I think that he just left. He didn’t say anything. He just got up and left.”
Wynn chimed in, “I was looking at him when he got a strange expression on his face and glanced toward the staircase. Then he got up and moved toward the door really fast. I tried to stop him to ask something, and he just blew past me.”
Madrik sat down at one of the tables and thought about the strange coincidences that surrounded the Storyteller. Starting with his peculiar absence from the area during Madrik’s first days and the cryptic comments that were occasionally exchanged between him and Emesh. Madrik was positive that something was going on. It was one thing he had hated about corporate life before his world has been turned upside down by the death of his wife and family. That “need to know basis” that kept so many people in the dark. That is what this feels like, he thought.
Chapter 13 – Slippers and Comfort
Annoyed beyond measure, Madrik realized that he was far more irritable because of the tension that he was under. Deciding that it was not going to help their opening event if he started snapping at people, Madrik sat and just relaxed. Letting his attention skip from place to place, he allowed the overall ambiance of the bar wash over him. Simultaneously soothing and invigorating, the bar had its own energy. It was the shared emotion and purpose of the people inside of it.
Madrik realized that he had been fortunate. He had an outstanding team. Looking around the room he saw that everyone was working and focused. Brechal was being helped at the bar by their most recent employee, the former military man, Vincent, the man that was now the assistant bouncer.
Vincent worked seamlessly with the bartender, never needing elaborate instructions or directions. There was something almost uncanny about the man’s ability to predict exactly where he would be required next.
The man was their most recent addition, one that seemed to sink effortlessly into the fabric of the BHB. He acted like the glue that held things together, whether it was appearing just where he was needed to move things in the kitchen or casually positioning his body in the exact place where somebody could hold up the end of a garland for Wynn’s decorations.
The damaged prosthesis of his left hand did not seem to slow him down. Madrik was sure at some point he would hear the story about how Vincent had acquired his injuries, but no one would be forced to tell their story. One of these days, Vincent would talk, and he would be better for it. But until then, Madrik was content with how his team was gelling and how well it worked together.
Vincent must have felt the bar manager’s thoughts centering on him. Looking up, he caught Madrik’s eyes and smiled, before continuing on with some task related to the movement of large boxes.
Comparing the quiet, busy man to the trembling, wild-eyed creature that had come through the right-hand bar door just a few days ago, Madrik once again was thankful that he and the BHB had bonded so well and were so united in purpose.
<<<>>>
Vincent continued to carry the large boxes into the kitchen so that the cook could examine what sort of plates he was going to have for serving. The boxes were incredibly heavy, made out of some form of plywood and dense, shiny wood. After placing the boxes on the one long working table that ran down the right side of the kitchen, Vincent exchanged a few words with the reticent cook, Najeer, and turned to go back into the main taproom.
Pausing in the door, the Vietnam veteran stopped for a moment and just looked around. It is only a few days, and I already feel like I’ve been here forever. I wonder if everyone feels this sense of living in a fairytale combined with profound gratefulness? he thought to himself. Thinking back, he remembered his entry into the bar. It had been a confusing end to a panicked flight through wet slippery streets and driving rain. Unable to contemplate a continued existence that involved what he had thought was the slow erosion of his mind and worried that he would inadvertently hurt someone else, Vincent had been fleeing for his life and sanity.
A strange feeling had overcome him as he ran down the alleyway. Without conscious volition, he had turned and run straight through a doorway that was in the middle of a brick wall. Thinking back at it now, he realized that there had never been a door there before, and he had gone down that alleyway hundreds if not thousands of times.
The pant of tortured breath going in and out of his chest and the soreness in his throat had created a syncopation that beat against the fear and pain that rebounded in his mind. He could feel the pressure of all the lives around him. Their hopes and fears, their anger and desperation. There is no place for him to run to that could hide him from it, no place of refuge. Without warning, the door had flashed into being in the middle of the brick wall.
Either he had gone entirely insane, or there was a door where no door had been ever before, and he had run through it.
Vincent remembered a high hallway that looked like it had fog moving around it, a thick, viscous mist that defied examination. He had kept running mindlessly, and his legs moved his captive body at a rapid pace. After a few seconds, the exhausted man realized that he wasn’t feeling the terrible pressure of other people’s feelings and needs on his mind anymore. The relief was so great, he could have wept
.
Vincent was so focused on his running that he didn’t notice the exact moment that he had passed through an open doorway into a scene that came straight out of a book. The shock to his mind had been so great that he had come to a halt, staring around like animal caught in bright lights.
He was frozen in place, the only movement the convulsive shaking of his body. The trembling was so intense that Vincent worried about his ability to stay upright. Feeling like his throat had been caught in a vice, the shaking man was stifled, prevented from more than a whisper escaping a body that was spouting panic like a volcano. All he could do was stare around at the room in which he found himself and try to make sense out of what he was seeing.
The room had a mixture of people that Vincent would expect to see and creatures straight out of the movies. As he had stood there trembling, trapped wordlessly in shock, a large, peaceful-looking man with an assured manner had positioned himself between Vincent and the rest of the room.
The veteran soldier in Vincent appreciated the skill with which the man inserted himself into what could be the advent of unknown danger to the bar inhabitants. Although standing in a flexible and defendable posture, the man had spoken calmly, introducing himself as Alastair, the bar’s head bouncer.
Even now, Vincent didn’t know why he had responded to that innocuous and unthreatening greeting with the words that had forced themselves past his lips and exploded into the room. Even to his own ears, Vincent knew how desperate he sounded, how emotional. That was a weakness, one that he took great pains to hide. Up until now. At that moment, Vincent made one of the most enormous leaps of faith and courage of his life.
“I am on my last ropes. Nothing has been right since I came back from Vietnam. I can’t deal with all the people who have anger all the time. I can feel it pounding on me, and everybody thinks I’m crazy. They’re going to put me away, I know, even though they say something different with their mouths. Their eyes are lying, and I can tell.”
