We arrived a bit early for the dinner rush, which meant the parking lot was mostly full instead of packed. The owners allowed some customers to park in the back next to the employees since an attack on a supernaturally gifted customer. She had been parked in the front lot, and there had been damage to a few vehicles and the blacktop parking area. However the privilege came about, I was happy to take advantage of it any time I could.
Fellhaven was the neighborhood bar and grill. It had the comfortable ambiance of a busy restaurant, while retaining some aspects of a tavern, minus the stench of cigarette smoke and bad beer. The owners kept the place clean and only allowed electronic cigarettes inside. What beer was available came from microbreweries in the surrounding counties.
The small stage to the left was currently occupied by the house DJ, a giant, red-bearded man named Drew. He was standing at the board, smiling and nodding to the beat of the music pumping through the five-foot speakers. The song wasn’t loud; it could have been lounge music, if it weren`t for the infectious pop beat. Past the stage and bar was the restaurant portion of the tavern.
At the entrance, a pretty, bleached blonde who looked like the offspring of two pop superstars was chatting happily with a petite redhead. The pale ginger was one of the proprietors. As we moved farther into the restaurant, we smiled and waved at the other tavern owner, who was working behind twenty feet of polished, mahogany bar.
Mark, who had the appearance of a husky, medium-height, human male with curly brown and silver hair, smiled and beckoned us over to two empty barstools in front of him. A dozen patrons walked across or danced on the open floor.
Together, Sterling and I continued toward Mark. Sterling, ever the gentleman, made certain I was seated on the barstool before settling onto the seat beside me.
Though Mark had a pleasant smile on his face, it didn’t meet his eyes. There was warning in them as he nodded to Sterling, which made me wonder what Sterling had done to warrant it. Mark had never been anything other than pleasant to me, despite knowing my skill and reputation as a necromancer. In fact, I’d helped him out a few times with both of my professions, both for Magickal and mundane reasons.
“Busy as always,” I commented with a smile.
“More often than not, thankfully,” Mark confessed. “It’s nice not having to rely on alternative revenue streams to keep the doors open and the staff paid.”
He placed a tall glass of Long Island Iced Tea in front of me. For Sterling, he put down a shot of something clear that smelled like top shelf tequila. Without further communication, Mark produced a small bottle of a blackish liquid with a plastic skull topper. He removed the skull and put three drops of the liquid in the shot, then put the bottle away. Sterling tossed the shot back, then nodded, placing the glass upside-down on the bar. He smiled again at the owner/bartender. Mark nodded to him, then looked at me.
“That’s not going to drink itself or tell me if it tastes right,” he commented.
Chuckling, I took a long sip from the glass and sighed contentedly. “Perfect, as always,” I stated. After taking another drink, I set the glass on the counter. “I’m guessing you already know why I’m here with him.” I tipped my head toward Sterling. “We have a few questions for you. Should we talk here or elsewhere?”
“That depends on whether you want to risk being overheard,” Mark replied. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Universal Manpower,” I said, lifting my delicious beverage to my lips. “I also need to know about someone I suspect is one of your waitresses.”
“First part is no big deal. But that second part…” Mark reached under the bar and manipulated something before continuing. “Let me get someone to take over for me. After that, we’ll grab Jen and talk in the VIP room.”
I looked down the bar and saw his wife talking to the restaurant hostess. Jen was wearing a short red and black dress, with plain black leggings and cut-down boots. She started walking toward us; it took Jen less than a minute, even though she stopped to exchange pleasantries with customers along the way.
“Hey, lover,” she said to her husband. She was slightly over five feet tall without heels, and her light copper hair was done up in a French braid that snaked down her back. Mark replied with, “Hey, gorgeous,” then she looked at Sterling and me. “How are you two doing? I suppose you’re here on business, since Mark called for his backup to come up front.”
“Unfortunately,” I stated. While we waited for the backup to arrive, I decided to kill time with small talk. “Who’s playing this weekend?”
“Mark’s cousin is coming up for the whole weekend. His band is playing Friday and Saturday nights. Dre is spinning the warm up on Saturday,” Jen answered. “Show up if you can. We will put a table near the stage for you.”
“Does that mean ‘the Beast’ will play bass on our table again?” I asked eagerly, my fan girl showing.
“We can’t predict what he’ll do on any given night,” Mark cheerfully answered. “But if someone mentions you enjoy it, he probably will. Or he’ll do something even more fun.”
The kitchen door next to the bar opened, and a young man that looked like a cross between a lumberjack and a Viking stepped through, carrying a large sampler platter. His massive but dutifully trimmed beard split open to reveal a gleaming, white smile. His t-shirt stretched over his bulking shoulders and biceps. He handed the platter to Mark.
“One code orange, chef. VIP room is clean.”
“Thanks, Curt. If you need to take a break, bring in Megi to host, and let Adele watch the bar,” Mark replied. The older man stepped out from behind the bar, the tray balanced on one shoulder. He looked to his wife, Sterling, and me.
“Shall we?”
“Gladly,” I replied, sliding off my stool.
Grabbing my glass, I followed Mark and Jen into the VIP room. It was a decent-sized room that could easily accommodate three tables of eight. There was a bar tucked into the corner, and there was always a bartender on hand to mix drinks and ensure people didn’t get too plastered. Usually, it was Mark or Curt who handled that task, though sometimes it was someone else. The walls were a dark shade of purple with black and silver trim. The tables were covered with silver cloth, and the chair cushions were black. Despite the color scheme, plenty of lights kept the room looking larger than it was.
It wasn’t Magick, just incredible decorating skills.
Mark continued behind the bar and placed the tray on the counter, while his wife took a stool in the corner. There were only four bar stools, and I knew Mark wouldn’t move from behind the bar. From the distinct scent of gun oil wafting from behind the counter, I knew he had a weapon of some sort tucked away back there. Sterling didn’t look too pleased with the seating options, so he took the stool closest to the door. I slid onto the stool beside his, setting my glass on the counter before snatching up a mozzarella stick.
Pulling the photo from my pocket, I placed it on the bar and slid it toward Mark and his wife. Jen pulled it closer to her and studied it before passing it to her husband. Her face was composed, but there was a non-verbal conversation between her and Mark. She glanced at him before tilting her head slightly toward me and Sterling.
“We need to talk to the other woman in this photo. Maura Robinson. Does she work here?” I asked before munching on the cheese stick.
“What’s this about?” Jen asked as she reached for an onion ring.
“I’m guessing you two know the woman Maura is with?” I asked. Mark and Jen nodded. “She’s been kidnapped. Probably because of the amulet she was wearing.”
Neither Mark nor Jen said anything for a few moments. Mark had his back to us and was mixing something. From my position, I couldn’t tell exactly what he used, but the resulting beverage was blue. He placed it in front of his wife, who smiled brilliantly.
“I knew about Ilygad Amon,” Mark stated in a bland tone. I suspected he was picking his words carefully. “The first time she wore it, I told her to keep it covered unless she w
anted to end up a target for every Magickal being with unsavory intentions.”
“Are you searching for Althea or the amulet?” Jen asked. There was a sly, almost amused, undertone to her words.
“Both,” I replied honestly. “The amulet was last seen on Althea, so I’m hoping that if we find Althea, we’ll find the amulet.”
“Why would you presume that?” Mark asked, leaning against the cabinets that held the alcohol and mixers. He folded his arms comfortably across his chest.
Shrugging, I snagged an onion ring. “Even if the amulet isn’t on Althea, she may be able to tell us who took her and it. It’s our best hope of keeping the amulet out of the wrong hands.”
“There’s a lot of ‘if’ and hope in that theory,” he rejoined. “Better have plans B and C ready.”
“I’ll find her. The question is whether she’ll be alive or not,” I commented. “I didn’t get to where I am without being able to finish what I start.”
“Last I checked, we knew each other’s reputations,” Mark said as he leaned forward and took a lobster-stuffed mushroom. “I’m not worried about you finding her. It’s the amulet that concerns me. We finally have a non-aggression treaty with the locals. We would like to enjoy that for a while before worrying about another self-absorbed being having too much power and too little knowledge.”
He popped the appetizer into his mouth and looked steadfastly into my eyes, waiting for my reply.
“I’ve been tasked with finding the amulet, so it will be found.” I finished my onion ring before continuing. “She was kidnapped by mercs working for Universal Manpower. Hence my earlier questions about them and Maura. She might have some information that would help us find Althea, and consequently, the amulet.” I paused for a moment and met Mark’s eyes, adding with a smirk, “Besides, if anyone is going to use the amulet, shouldn’t it be me?”
He laughed and rotated the appetizer tray a quarter turn.
“Try the loaded potato cups,” Mark invited. Once I picked one up and took a bite, he continued, “Universal does the job they’re hired to do; that’s why we employed them recently. As long as they weren’t hired to kill Althea, she’s still alive. I’d rather see the amulet buried under a volcano, but you are certainly a better option than most to possess it.”
“And information concerning Maura?” I asked, resisting the strong urge to take another bite until he replied.
The bacon, tomatoes, three cheeses and chives stuffed into the muffin-like potato cup were calling to my taste buds, though. Damn him.
“What info do you want?” he asked dismissively. His eyes flickered over to Jen, who was sipping her drink.
“Basic gumshoe information,” I said with a smile.
He smiled back and replied, “Where she lives, last time she worked, any suspicious behavior, anything we know about her relationship with Althea.”
I took an extra-large bite, involuntarily moaned in gastronomic pleasure, and nodded.
Jen said, “I’m texting you her address, now. She worked prep and lunch yesterday and left at 4pm. She asked us to introduce her to Althea. They left together the night we introduced them and have had lunch here a few times since.”
“We’re suspicious of everyone,” Mark chimed in with a wide, devilish grin. “So, we’re not much help there.”
“I thought you were all about revenge, not paranoia,” I said to Mark with a smirk. I thanked Jen profusely.
“It’s not paranoia when you know what humanity’s really like,” he replied. “Makes the revenge part more satisfying, though.”
“Spoken like a semi-retired demon of vengeance,” Jen teased her husband.
I chuckled and helped myself to another potato cup.
“Anyway,” Mark rejoined, “you haven’t asked us anything difficult, yet. Don’t tell me we’re done? Gods, are we going to have to make small talk until the platter is empty?”
“Tell me why you hired Universal Manpower’s goons,” I prompted.
“A group of Hispanic werewolves moved into the area. They weren’t playing nice with the local lycanthropes,” Mark explained. “There are also rogue wolves that don’t listen to the resident alpha, and they tried to make names for themselves with the Hispanics. War was coming. When the locals killed the Hispanic alpha, it was a tipping point. Both sides decided to negotiate. For once, the rogues didn’t argue.”
“Were they were fighting in Fellhaven or the parking lot?” I asked, not hiding my disbelief.
“Nope. They chose Fellhaven as the location for the meeting,” Jen answered. “Fellhaven remains neutral territory, a haven for the common, uncommon, supernatural, and preternatural.”
“Not to mention any and all users of Magick, as long as they respect the accords and laws,” Sterling rejoined.
“Hosting an event with such volatile potential meant we needed additional muscle, and we couldn’t use volunteers,” said Mark as he picked out a pork-filled potato shell. “The situation required impartiality, a lack of interest in being bribed, and the ability to handle pretty much anything or anyone. Universal Manpower’s top mercs fit, and we paid a fair price for them.”
“You have to understand, it wasn’t just the two large groups of wolves,” Jen added. “Fellhaven is frequented by vampires. They have to follow the rules of Alesio’s court, or his enforcers can cut them down. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t act like a bunch of teenage idiots, doing shit to provoke the wolves.”
“And you had no way of knowing if Alesio would show up,” I observed. “He is known to follow his own dark compulsions, after all.”
“Exactly,” Jen and Mark said in unison.
“The meeting went well. There were no real outbursts or attacks,” Jen continued, “Peace is in effect, for now, but would that have been true if we hadn’t had the extra muscle around the tavern, in the parking lot, and in this room?”
Mark chuckled dryly. “It looked like we were serving dinner to royalty or a human politician.”
“It worked, and all went well,” I surmised. The couple nodded.
“So, if you’re looking for dirt on U.M. or the crew that worked for us, we don’t have any. They did what they were paid to do, with no hassles or underhanded dealings .We even did a spot inventory the evening after and nothing, not even one of our monogrammed shot glasses, was missing,” Mark finished.
“That alone tempted me to tell Mark to hire them on a regular basis,” Jen said with an impish smile.
I laughed. Jen had designed the logo for Fellhaven, and the shot glasses frequently disappeared from the tavern. They did offer them for sale, but most people didn’t bother buying them. They just slipped a glass into a pocket, purse, or some other container and took it home with them. Since I liked Mark and Jen, I had bought a set for myself after discovering they were reasonably priced.
“At least two minotaurs, a werebear, and a family of mountain giants work for U.M.,” Jen said. “And Mark knows the ifrit that works there, since demons get along sometimes.”
“The same kind of demons get along, sometimes,” Mark corrected. “They also employ several elves, and all but the water subspecies are represented. They also have several humans on staff, as well.”
“Here’s hoping it isn’t the mountain giants or minotaurs that have Althea,” I grumbled. I paused and tipped my head to the side as his words sank in. “A werebear? And an elf? One of the elves wouldn’t happen to be a female with very dark skin and white hair, would it?”
“The one we’ve seen?” Jen looked at Mark and waited for a nod before declaring, “Yeah, she fits that description. But without seeing her features, neither of us would be able to definitely state she was the elf we’ve met.”
“That’s easy enough to do,” I replied.
Grabbing a napkin, I wiped my fingers before turning my back to the bar. I wasn’t one for theatrics. I guess I learned that from my parents, who didn’t put on a show when casting spells. They taught me to remain silent and to use a few, cont
rolled motions.
Necromancy, pardon the pun, is a dying craft. Few practitioners choose that specialization due to the stigma and ostracization that go with it. Once I’d shown an inherent talent for that field, my parents encouraged me to learn as much as I desired.
Now, after centuries of summoning spirits, all it took was a small amount of will to generate the energy required to breach the veil between this world and the Afterlife.
The veil parted like a gossamer curtain at my Magickal touch, and I called forth the fae my undead werebear had killed and eaten.
The spirit slid between the veil and began forming as small motes in the light of the room, before gathering and slowly taking the form of the elf. As I imbued the spell with more energy, the elf’s body and shape she had during her life appeared.
Since I hadn’t decided if I was going to ask her questions, I waited until her entire spirit was there, complete with the ability to answer.
“Recognize her?” I asked Mark and Jen, as I turned away from the floating spirit that stood behind me.
Jen snickered and nodded.
“She looked a bit less dead and mauled when we last saw her,” Mark said through a smirk. “But yes, that’s the fae from U.M. we were talking about. What happened?”
“We ran into her and her werebear partner at Althea’s house,” I said, not bothering to hide my grin. “After I killed the lycanthrope, I raised him to ask some questions before sending him to kill his partner.” Shrugging, I snagged one of the last onion rings. Holding the delicious appetizer in my hand, I added, “Since I told him he could rest after killing and eating her, I knew she was dead because the spell ended.” With that said, I popped the onion ring into my mouth and munched contentedly.
The owners of Fellhaven burst into laughter. It took some time for them to regain their composure.
“Oh gods, that’s beautiful,” Jen said, trying to keep from starting a fresh round of giggles.
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