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“Barkeep,” I requested in a commanding voice, “your strongest liquor, please.”
The thin figure behind the bar sported white hair and white eyes without pupils. When they blinked, a second set of lids blinked as well. Gills marked their luminescent blue skin in various places, most notably around the neck.
When the figure leaned forward, two slits where a nose should have been twitched. “You’re not from this realm.”
“No, sir—ma’am. Uh,friend.” I tried my best to follow what Izdor had taught me about manners. “Earth beer does nothing. Is there anything you have that can get me drunk?”
“You can call me sir.” The figure winked. “For the right price.”
Ah, so this one must have been trading pleasures for coins. I reached into my pocket and procured the gold coins that Izdor had gifted me. When I set them on the counter, the figure started laughing.
“Well, with that kind of cash, I can get you whatever you want,” the barkeep said confidently. “Just call me Chopper and let me grab a barrel from the back.”
After tossing a towel over their shoulder, they retreated behind one of the steel doors. I swore I smelled something unsavory waft from the back, but it might have merely been the mixture of creature smells. More people here came from the ocean than anywhere else. Which explained why the way Chopper observed me with their pupilless eyes made me uneasy.
Izdor slid onto a stool while Galanthia stood behind me. From here, my companions seemed to be on the same edge I walked, indicating their discomfort through nonverbal cues. Being such experienced soldiers meant having language that could be used without saying a word. Of course, we could use our mental capacities, but cues could be much faster than words during dire circumstances.
Though these didn’t seem like dire circumstances, I knew more than anyone how much situations could change at the last second. Chopper returned with murky liquid, stuff that seemed to be out of a literal barrel that had been aged in a moldy room. While they insisted that the stuff would get us drunk, I wasn’t so sure. It appeared to be more poison than liquor.
I paid the barkeep and kept my eyes on the stage, watching the buxom figure there twist and writhe on the pole.
Don’t drink it, I warned my friends.
Wasn’t planning on it, Izdor replied.
Galanthia raised her cup to her lips.Pretend to drink it. They’re watching us.
Ah, indeed they were. Every set of eyes in the room seemed to roll in our direction without physically doing so. As soon as attention focused on us, in whatever way seemed most suitable to the watcher, their aura changed. Threatening indigo fought with horrid blue, darkness sweeping the length of the room as the lights dimmed and the set changed.
This place was odd. It was hardly the way the barkeep kept tabs on us or the disgusting liquid we were being served for such a high price. Being Elderlings in this realm meant drawing attention, even in such towns as Wolfcreek that were most welcoming. People flocked to us. People wanted to be near us, to touch us.
The same seemed to apply in this den of iniquity.
Maliciousness began crowding the air. I felt the distinct shift when another dancer wandered onto the stage, her eyelids drooping as she wore a lazy smile. Languid motions appeared mildly sultry but mostly forced. I didn’t like the way she gazed with longing at the people seated close to the stage. It was like she was begging for them to whisk her away.
My wings tingled in my back. They only did that when danger was close at hand. Galanthia and Izdor prickled with the same paranoia, their eyes on the stage while their minds alerted me of their suspicions.
Is it an elaborate trap?I asked.Or do you think it’s just one of those bad places?
Izdor nudged me lightly.Eyes forward. There’s someone approaching.
I turned to Izdor without missing a beat and patted him lovingly on the shoulder, slurring my words as I praised him for the joke he had just cracked. Galanthia joined us, her eyes like pinpoints despite the mirth written on her face.
Izdor had been right—someone was approaching us wearing a scarlet suit. The wicked sheen on his skin resembled fire and even danced like flames, never quite remaining the same red hue. Horns sprouted from either side of his head, the impression much like those crossroad demons or the myths that humans passed between each other about devils.
Was he a man? What were his pronouns if not?
I shook off my apprehension and greeted him with a grin. “Hello, friend. What do they call you?”
“Mr. Vee,” the devil replied. “Mr. Mal Vee.”
“And your pronouns?” Izdor inquired. “That seems to be important in this realm.”
“Yes, this realm does place emphasis on pronouns,” Mr. Mal Vee tittered with amusement. “I supposeheandhimwould be the correct ones for me.”
I nodded while raising my glass. “I’m glad I thought correctly.”
“In any case, it doesn’t matter to me,” Mr. Mal Vee insisted. “What matters to me is only that you three are having yourselves a good time.”
