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Maybe it’s our mutual love of the very mortal-like pastime of drinking in a dive bar like this one.
As usual, her dark hair is pinned up into a bun with two metal sticks that look like lightning rods, revealing a guileless face that might tempt one to be fooled into thinking she is harmless.
I know better.
She is one of the most formidable creatures I’ve ever known.
She is also the most sarcastic.
“Is there a liver-drowning contest I’m not aware of?” she asks, sliding onto the stool next to mine.
Without waiting for my answer, she nods at the bartender, an ogre named Meech who doesn’t speak.
“Bourbon. With infusion,” she tells him, referencing the same magic additive I used to get wasted. Then she looks over at me, one brow arched in judgment. “Well?”
The alcohol swims in my blood, making me more forthcoming than usual. “I went through the portal.”
“The Earth realm was that disappointing, huh?”
“It was … different than I remember.”
She waits, clearly not ready to accept my vague answer. True, I wasn’t the same creature back then either. I’ve always been a dragon shifter with a dark side, but after five thousand years in Tartarus, this world and its magic have made me into its own creation, full of shadows that cling and whisper their violence.
But Styx knows all that. Because she’s a shadow creature too. Not to mention, she visited the Earth realm with Caius himself when the portal first opened.
“I witnessed a murder,” I add.
“Just one?”
I scowl and reach for my drink. The liquid sloshes as I pick it up. “The assassin was a woman.”
“Good for her,” Styx declares. “Maybe feminism isn’t as dead as I thought.”
Another patron cuts her a look. I recognize him as a regular who spikes his own whiskey with wolfsbane because he likes the high. He’s an asshole but usually keeps to himself. Tonight, he winks at Styx, and she bares her teeth at him. “Mind your business, asshole.”
He looks away.
Styx turns back to the bar just as Meech sets her drink down in front of her. She drains her glass and hands it back to Meech, saying, “Keep ‘em coming, big guy.”
Then she turns to me again. “You know, nothing you’ve said warrants a drinking binge as far as I can tell. I mean, if either of us has a reason to drown our livers after visiting that place, it’s me.”
I sigh. Styx has zero love for the Earth realm. Or maybe it’s what they did to her there. What they did to all of us, casting us here in the first place. And if that weren’t bad enough, her recent visit sparked her mate bond, which she’s dealing with about as well as I am.
My thoughts drift to the last Februlune—the double moons that incite moon fever in those who’ve found their mates, forcing the shift and sending them into a frenzy that only ends if they claim their mate. Styx had me lock her up so she couldn’t go searching for her mate. If anyone understands my reasons for resisting this, it’s her.
“Does this have anything to do with the bitch who tossed you here?” Styx asks, referring to the demon female who sired me.
Once upon a time, I swore vengeance against her. But five thousand years is a long time, and if I’m honest, my time in Tartarus has actually been the best experience of my existence thus far. At least, Caius hasn’t ordered me to level entire dynasties for him.
Here, I have a life. A home.
Besides, my mother is gone. And so is the past.
There’s nothing left to avenge.
I shake my head. “No. There are many different kinds of creatures in the Crossroads, but I did not sense any being with power like hers.”
“So, she’s dead. This is good news.”
