Kathleen Collins - Realm Walker

It was Wednesday so she knew everyone in the bar, by sight if not by name. All three of them, five if you counted employees. A gnome named Chester sat by the jukebox with his sister Charlene. Chester would play dwarf ballads on the machine next to him until threatened with bodily harm, usually by Juliana. He got up to select another song and she narrowed her eyes. They ended up listening to the Bee Gees instead. It wasn’t much of an improvement.

An ogre sat at the bar, his shoulders perpetually hunched against the world. She didn’t know much about him except he came in almost as often as she did. That and he had a wicked right hook. He was the reason all the tables were now bolted to the floor. Apparently, no matter how calm their normal demeanor, Ambrosia-drunk ogres got rather hostile when goaded by a selkie and three nymphs. The Den closed for a week to recover and Juliana was on light duty for the duration. She tried not to hold it against the ogre; it wasn’t really his fault, but they kept their distance from each other regardless.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her nerves still hummed from the fight, but she hoped with time and alcohol, they’d calm down. If they didn’t, she was going to have a long, sleepless night. The bar normally smelled like old sweat and stale beer, but tonight the heavy scent of lemon permeated the air. She assumed the odor was the remnant of a recent cleaning, but the bar looked just as dingy and dirty as ever. Nothing short of blowing the place up would fix that.

She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. Not only was she trying to stave off the headache she felt creeping up, she was checking her temperature. Trolls weren’t the most diligent species when it came to oral hygiene. It would be just her luck to survive the attack only to succumb to some stupid infection because the thing didn’t floss.

The air stirred beside Juliana. She looked up to meet Tony’s dark eyes. They were a startling contrast to his platinum blond hair, but both suited him. He managed the Den and seemed to think that looking after her was part of the job. “You okay, Jules?”

She leaned back in her chair and searing pain flared through her shoulder. She hissed in a breath and froze, not daring to move until the sensation eased a little. It was her own cursed fault for not taking any of the pain meds the medic offered, but she didn’t like what drugs did to her head. Never had. When she could talk again, she answered through clenched teeth. “Troll bite. You know how they are.”

He blinked a couple of times. “Um...no. Actually I don’t. Not all of us run about playing with the animals.”

She didn’t respond to his comment. Most of the people Tony called friend were more uncivilized than the troll ever thought about being. She should know, she’d grown up amongst many of them. Seen them at their absolute worst.

“Did you see the doctor?” he asked, concern threading his voice.

“Medic. She did what she could, but it’s deep and burns worse than pixie venom. It’ll be all right in a couple of days.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass, not meeting his eyes. “This is good, but I could use something with a bit more bite if you don’t mind.” It was a bad pun, but she was easily amused. She tried to keep the tension, the anticipation, off her face and out of her voice. If Tony refused her, she didn’t know what she would do. She was in more pain than she wanted to let on, and she really didn’t care to lose the use of the arm while it healed.

Needing it so much made the request feel like begging. She hated it and didn’t want to have to ask again. But she would. She’d ask him a hundred times if she had to. And if he still said no, there were other sources. Other places she could go. Gods, she felt like an addict and maybe in a way she was. Addicted to the quick fix. To not feeling the pain. She shoved the thought away.

He glanced around, though Juliana had no idea who exactly he thought might be watching. He snatched the glass from her and hurried through a door behind the bar. A few minutes later, he returned her drink.

She sipped her scotch, closing her eyes to savor the coppery-sweet tang of vampire blood mixed with it. An acquired taste, she’d grown to like it over the years. Crave it, even. She gave Tony a nod of thanks and he went back to his work.

The buying and selling of vampire blood was illegal, but no laws limited its consumption. The vampire Council however kept a tight rein on distribution. Juliana didn’t think they’d get irate over the little amounts Tony gave a Walker here and there, but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. All the major groups of Altered had similar systems of oversight. It was the only way so many powerful control-freaks could co-exist without killing each other. Their leaders made sure they stayed in line, and took care of it when they didn’t. The things that slipped by their notice were the jobs that were picked up by the Agency.

As the governing body over the vampires, it was well known the power had long ago gone to Council’s heads. They could be irrational and petty at times. Growing up in a coven gave Juliana more insight into them than any outsider should possess.

It’s why the presence of outsiders was usually forbidden in the covens. They had a strict vampires-only policy, but her would-be savior had been powerful enough, and old enough, to do as he pleased. The Council, of course, being what they were, acted as if it were a fine idea to have a half-dark fae, half-mage in the middle of one of the most powerful covens in the country. When they couldn’t get their way, they acted as if it was what they wanted all along.

Halfway through her drink, liquid warmth flowed into her shoulder to replace the pain. A trembling sigh of relief escaped her. She had no idea how old Tony was, but his blood was sweet, potent. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head over the back of her seat. Tension flowed from her, untying the knots of stress that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her shoulders.

Then, the phone rang. Every head in the bar turned toward the sound. Juliana always assumed the Den had a phone, but she’d never heard it before. Even Tony hesitated a moment before answering. His eyes shot up to meet Juliana’s before he looked quickly away. She glanced to her phone on the table. It was charged with full service bars. As if it would be anything but—it was charmed. Not a call for her then, but about her. Either someone was asking questions or Tony was up to something he didn’t want a Walker to know about.

Her jaw clenched. She didn’t like either option. Apparently, no one else in the bar did either. They stood, almost in unison, threw some money down and hustled up the short flight of stairs to the door. Juliana didn’t want to bust Tony, and she wanted him selling her out even less.

Tony put down the phone and spoke in a low tone to the bartender before hustling through the door behind him. She stretched the muscles in her neck, marveling at how quickly the knots had reformed. The bartender Miguel had grown up in the coven with her. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Tony was gone. Turning back, he met her eyes and jerked his head toward the exit. She didn’t hesitate. Tony had crossed her one way or another.

Juliana’s chest ached and she ignored the sharp pain that tried to remind her she’d just been betrayed by one of her closest friends. One of the few people she trusted. She should have known better. She’d mourn the loss later. Right now she had to worry about saving her own skin. She fired up her gift causing her eyes to glow much brighter than their normal emerald. Many beings could cloak their presence from the casual observer, but she’d yet to meet one that could hide from her. Miguel smiled as she pulled a pair of dark glasses from her pocket and slid them on. They hid her eyes from view but were charmed not to interfere with her vision. Despite the near impenetrable darkness of the lenses, to her it was like looking through glass.