I didn’t think it was possible, but the inside feels even darker than the night we stepped out of. The air is thick with old smoke and stale beer, and it clings to my throat as I breathe it in. The lighting is a string of mismatched holiday lightsdrooping across the ceiling, throwing off a jaundiced-yellow glow. They sag low in haphazard crisscross patterns, as if someone strung them up years ago and never bothered to take them down. The shadows between them feel alive, and I can’t help but think the place looks like it’s lit by dying stars.
A small wooden stage sits in the corner, no bigger than a dining table, with a microphone that looks like it hasn’t worked since before I was born. A long bar stretches the length of the far wall, its surface worn smooth by decades of elbows, the wood stained so dark it nearly blends into the shadows. Bar stools in a deep shade of red line the counter, their fabric cushions frayed at the seams. They have no backs, only a place to sit if you don’t care about staying long.
But it’s what’s behind the bar that really catches my attention. Tiered shelves rise up nearly to the ceiling, crowded with liquor bottles—some full, some half empty, some so dusty I wonder if they’ve turned to poison by now. Above the bottles, a ledge runs the length of the wall, and it’s completely buried in Halloween decorations. A cracked clown head leers down at us, hollow eyes catching the light. A witch frozen mid-flight balances precariously on her broom. Skeleton limbs are scattered like trophies. Battery-powered candlesticks flicker weakly, their fake flames stuttering. And creepy porcelain dolls with cracked faces watch from every angle. It’s chaos, clutter, pure junk. And yet I kind of love it. In this world of decay, someone chose to hoard plastic skulls and rubber bats like they were precious relics. There’s something weirdly comforting about that kind of madness.
“I’d like to start the night off with a bang,” Cade declares, swaggering up to the bar like he’s done it many times before. “So everyone gets a mind eraser on me.”
The bartender turns at the sound of his voice, and she looks like she belongs on that ledge with all the rest of the oddities.She’s tall, willowy, her frame all sharp edges and angles. Her hair is dyed a deep, unnatural pink that falls almost to her waist, and her face is weathered with lines. A constellation of piercings glints across her nose, ears, and brow, tiny sparks of silver in the dim light. Her expression doesn’t shift when she looks at us, not even a flicker. It’s like she’s already seen everything we could ever do, and none of it would surprise her.
“Seven mind erasers coming up,” she rasps, already pulling bottles from the shelves.
“Fair warning, these aren’t for lightweights,” Cade says as he plops down in a stool next to Aurora.
“What exactly is a mind eraser?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want the answer.
Aurora leans against the counter beside me, her grin bright against the gloom. “Think of it as liquid courage with a side of bad decisions.”
“Reassuring,” I mutter, my eyes narrowing on the bartender as she begins to pour.
She’s using a long spoon to layer the liquid so the alcohols don’t mix, and I’ve never seen anything like it before. Then again, I haven’t exactly spent much time in bars. The only ones I’ve been to were the sleek, glass-and-chrome lounges Marco liked to drag me into when he wanted to parade me in front of his associates. Those were cages dressed in crystal and velvet. This place feels real.
I spin slowly on my stool, taking in the rest of the dive. Nasha and Dante have claimed the pool table at the center, their voices bouncing off the scarred wood as they argue over who gets to break. The wall behind it is plastered in layers of old stickers, peeling and faded until they’ve become a patchwork of color and shadow. Up close, I notice initials and words carved deep into the wall, some scratched in with knives, othersscrawled in marker. It’s the kind of history you can’t fake, every mark a story left behind.
A few tall cocktail tables are scattered around, each crowned with a lamp that burns with a dull red bulb. The crimson glow mixes with the sagging strands of holiday lights overhead, painting the whole room in a surreal wash of gold and blood red. It shouldn’t work, but somehow, it does.
To the right of the pool table, a massive black sign hangs crooked on the wall. Sloppy white paint spells out, “SHUT UP AND DRINK.” Classy.
“Kat.”
Malachi’s voice pulls me back, and I turn to find the bartender sliding a glass in front of me.
“Alright,” Cade says, lifting his with a flourish, “the rules are simple. You down it all at once. That’s why it’s layered. First you taste soda, then coffee, and the vodka in the middle disappears like magic.”
“More like it ambushes you later,” the bartender mutters under her breath, lips twitching.
I eye the drink warily but grab my glass when everyone else does.
Cade raises his first, his grin reckless. “To bad ideas and even worse hangovers.”
Aurora smirks, clinking her glass against his. “To raising hell while we still can.”
Alex lifts his glass higher. “To making it out alive.”
Malachi’s gaze finds mine. “To finding our way home.”
I realize they’re all waiting for me to say something. I look at them—my team, my family, ready for battle.
“To us,” I say softly.
The glasses clink, a sharp chime in the dim haze, and I tip the drink back in one go. Sweetness first,then a sharp burn, then coffee liquor, sweet and dark. Like Cade promised, the vodka is invisible… until it’s not.
“So how did you all meet?” I ask Nasha as we stand near one of the cocktail tables waiting for our turn to play pool. Right now, we’re playing in teams—her and Dante against me and Malachi. I’ve never played before, so Malachi is pretty much carrying our team at the moment.
“I was working as a medic in the city, not too far from Devil’s Lake. It used to be called Toledo. This was before the gutter zones had spread and the city became too dangerous,” she says, taking a drink from her cocktail.
“She saved our asses, basically,” Dante says before bending to set up his next shot.
“Long story short, I was off duty when I ran into them. They had saved two Avid kids from a bad situation, and one needed medical attention. I was wary of the entire thing at first, but once Malachi explained what they were doing and who they were, I decided I could do more good joining Solace than I could working at a hospital that was run by politics,” she says.
