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The place is clean enough to get drunk in, but the smells of sweat, swamp water, and old beer permeate the walls. A sticky sheen covers the tables, and I know better than to put my ass on a chair in this establishment. Water Witches decorated the bar with ferns and moss, and several of them stand on display, pouring drinks and brewing potions to heighten one’s senses.
“We should dance!” Marie shouts over the heavy beats of the music.
I smile but shake my head. Marie was the first Vampire I’d ever met. Her kind rarely frequented the Summer Court, preferring the cooler climate of Northern Aranthium. It wasn’t a massive surprise since Vampires prefer the lack of sunlight.
When I met Marie, I thought she may have been among the most beautiful females I’d ever seen. Her willowy limbs and too-pale skin had been enchanting. Her fangs promised pain in the best way. I liked that she loved to party just as much as I did. We’d drunkenly kissed once or twice, but then she told me she “wasn’t interested.” Besides, she’s a master at playing games.
As I watch her smile and laugh, a strange sensation clumps in my stomach. For some reason, the only person I can think about is the mysterious Winter Fae. She has haunted my dreams every night since we first met, and I keep replaying our conversations repeatedly.
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, and I scan the room again, checking just in case the Winter Fae has somehow found her way to this dive bar.
Marie flips her blood-red hair over her shoulder, exposing the elegant curve of her neck in the tight black dress she is wearing. She leans over and whispers in the ear of the human man that she brought to the club.
Her eyes keep flicking over to me as if she wants to ensure I’m watching. This game, which she’s been playing for several months, has long since grown boring. It’s the reason things between the two of us never go further than drunken kisses and dancing. Marie wants to see how far I will go to win her over. She told me as much one night.
I’m over it. She is no better than the Fae who party day and night in the Summer Court.
I check the clock on my FaePhone. It reads a quarter to midnight, and I beckon the bartender over.
A Water Witch comes immediately. She is swaying to the music, a bored smile plastered on her lips as she asks, “What do you need?”
I straighten my back, weirded out by her tone. “Water, please.”
The bartender returns in the blink of an eye and slides a clear cup in my direction. I chug the cool liquid. My shift is set to start in less than two hours, and while I don’t mind a shot or two to loosen me up, showing up to work inebriated would be a huge mistake.
Marie and the human are now walking to the dance floor. The other people in our group, Adam, Georgina, and Clarence, are shouting at each other, trying to decide what drinks will get them rip-roaring drunk the fastest.
Adam’s large black wings occupy half the space at the bar, and he keeps slapping me in the back with them.
I shook my head. Angels. Never respecting anyone’s personal space.
If this were any other night, I would eagerly join my friends. Getting drunk is rarely dull.
Bowing with a flourish, the chains hanging off my outfit clink together, and I say, “Alas, I must return to the Warlock’s steel prison.”
In unison, they let out an irritated whine. I open my arms wider, basking in the attention as I turn around. I swagger out of Water Witch Absinthe, waving one last time before I exit. It’s a busy night, and a dozen cabs drive by before a shiny yellow car pulls over.
The driver, a Warlock with cat-like eyes and furry ears, stops at the curb.
“Where to?” he grumbles over his shoulder as I slide into his backseat.
“The main docks next to Fourth Street.” I give him directions as I buckle my seatbelt.
The Warlock nods. “And what will you give me?”
Of course. There is always a catch when it comes to a Warlock. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’ll pay you your rush rate in dollarsora secret that no one else knows upon safe delivery to the docks.”
He nods and spreads his hands wide over the steering wheel without touching the vinyl plastic. The car starts up, and the shift stick moves without physical prompting. I am relieved that the Warlock has agreed to my terms of payment. The driver picks up his FaePhone, sliding through a social media app as the car speeds away to our destination.
Warlocks. I roll my eyes and pull out my phone. Only ten percent remains on my battery, and I let out a long sigh.
“Can we turn on the radio?” I ask. I’m feeling vintage.
He grunts, and a button he doesn’t touch clicks.
The newscaster’s high-pitched voice is loud as she drones on about the usual fear-mongering in the world. This certainly isn’t my choice of entertainment, but it’s not like I have much else to do now.
“… the Northern courts are in a political uproar. From the Fae to the Ice Mer, people are struggling with the defection of the royal family’s heir after ruining a series of important trade deals between continents. Riots have erupted in every major Northern city… hard to know exactly what is happening with the intervention of the military forbidding Northerners from leaving or communicating with those in…”
