Love Letters and Thirst Tonics (Moonvale Matches Book 1)

4. Fiella

Ginger’s Pub was one of the liveliest places in Moonvale. The pub was in the town square, right in the middle of the action, and there was always something entertaining happening there. Folk could celebrate with a bubbly ale, wallow in misery with a jug of wine, or simply sip on a cider and enjoy a bowl of stew, if Ginger prepared any that day.

I was determined to drown my sorrows and do some intense wallowing. A pity party, if you will. I craved the numbness, the wool pulled over my senses, the brain fogging that alcohol would bring.

I was pretty sure I was in some sort of shock. I had stepped outside of my body and was just going through the motions, my head stuffed full of cotton and half-formed thoughts.

I made my way to the bartop, plopped down onto my favorite stool in the corner, and waited for the barkeep to head my way. Ginger wasn’t working the bar today, which was a massive bummer. The faun woman always managed to lift my spirits with her easy-going manner and upbeat attitude. Instead, I was being served by one of her employees–a massive, moss-brown-skinned orc with a rather impressive beard.

When the orc, Tandor, finally made his way over to me, I was barely holding it together. It took every ounce of my mental strength to keep my eyes from welling up and spilling over. I gritted my teeth, my fangs digging into my lips with the pressure.

As a very emotional vampire, I was no stranger to managing my feelings, but I wasn’t always the best at it. If a few tears managed to slip free, I hoped nobody would judge me too harshly.

It happened to the best of us.

It happened to me pretty frequently, if I was being honest.

“Hi Tandor. A large goblet of today’s cider, please,” I requested with a slight wobble in my voice. My throat was tightening up and I was trying to breathe through it. Inhale, hold. Exhale, hold.

“Sure, Fiella. One moment,” Tandor responded, eyeing me with a slight furrow between his eyebrows.

Tandor placed the goblet in front of me with a tentative smile and a request to let him know if I needed anything else. Lavender blueberry was the cider flavor today. The goblet was so heavy while full of liquid that I had to use both hands to lift it to my mouth.

Ginger’s Pub catered to all sorts of folk, with many strange offerings on the menu. Bugs for the fauns, raw meats for the shifters, flowers for the druids. Blood for the vampires. The considerate orc barkeep had added a shot of elk blood to my goblet. I took a huge gulp. Delicious.

Ciders were my absolute favorite, and lavender blueberry was the best flavor of all. The sweet, fruity drink was the superior alcoholic beverage, and nobody could convince me otherwise. Ale tasted like piss water. I wasn’t necessarily saying that ale drinkers liked the taste of piss but… if the boot fits.

Wine was great, but it just couldn’t top the light, refreshing deliciousness of cider.

As I sipped my cider and stared off into the distance, I tried to stop myself from sinking down into my thoughts. I packed my emotions down with as much force as I could and focused on the mystery of it all. What in the realms was happening to my shop? The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that this was a targeted attack. No other alternatives made sense.

Nothing natural could cause such abrupt destruction, such total devastation. Those beetles weren’t just mortal wood mites, they were something sinister. Something dark.

Who could possibly want to destroy my shop, my entire life, and maybe even the entire town? What if I wasn’t the last victim, what if I was just the first? What if Kizzi was next? What if the entire town was slowly crumbling to bits?

I was spiraling.

Maybe I gained an enemy somehow. I might not have been the nicest vampire all the time, but I always gave kindness a decent effort… at least when it was deserved. I wasn’t that big of a bitch; Kizzi was a way bigger bitch than me.

I could only think of a few folk who might have a vendetta against me. There was that other vampire girl from back in school, I’d accidentally (on purpose) drank her bear blood lunch, and I just knew she’d never forgiven me for it. There was also the older witch woman who sat in the park and watched everyone all the time, she was always giving me the evil eye.

It could’ve been Josten. Fuck Josten, that asshole cheated on me and still threw a fit when I dumped him. Or maybe that book vendor from the town over. He always hated when I haggled for a better price.

The more I thought about it, the more folks I came up with. The possible enemies were everywhere. I could’ve made an accidental enemy out of anyone. Fuck, this wasn’t good.

I finished my goblet with a heavy swallow and a deep sigh before Tandor immediately set another one in front of me–no questions asked and only a slight nod thrown in my direction. Good man.

I was halfway through my second goblet (and only beginning to descend into a mental breakdown) when I started daydreaming about food. The shop catastrophe had happened only a few hours ago, surprisingly, and it was now midday. And I’d left my extra pastries tucked under my shop counter. They were surely smashed to dust by now.

Another tragedy in itself.

At least I’d taken my dose of thirst tonic this morning–adding thirst to the mix would have sent me plummeting over the edge.

My pondering was interrupted when the barstool next to me was pulled back with a screeeeeeech against the sticky stone floor. Ginny really needed to mop this place more often.

My head a bit swimmy from the booze, I glanced over my shoulder where my elbows were propped onto the bartop to see an angel sitting next to me. Velline was newer to town, and I had only spoken to her a few times in passing. She was quiet, but kind, in a gentle sort of way. Her presence was soothing. She seemed to keep to herself. I respected that–folk were exhausting sometimes.

She let out a sigh as she plopped onto the stool. “You went blue?” Velline asked quietly. “Cute.”

I simply nodded in acknowledgement, threading my fingers through my roots and tugging lightly. I was not in the mood to explain the magical mishap that I’d swallowed this morning.

Velline had been working at the healing clinic in town, Moonvale Medical, ever since Old Man Wilbur had gotten too old to run the place by himself and found an apprentice. The elf was so old that nobody could keep track of his age anymore– it was likely somewhere around seven hundred.

As non-human folk of Aldova, most of us weren’t necessarily immortal, but we were pretty gods damned close to it. It wasn’t abnormal for folk to live to see a thousand turns of the seasons. Some races lived longer than others, of course, but with the advancements of magical tonics, lifespans were becoming longer and longer.

In Old Man Wilbur’s case, I had a feeling he was just ready to move on to something new. Like my Ma and Pa had been.

I shivered at the reminder that I would eventually have to let them know what had happened to Fiella’s Finds.

Velline politely ordered a bright wine, and immediately swallowed a massive gulp when the goblet was placed in front of her, delicately coughing when the liquid rushed down her throat. She must have been having a tough day. Relatable.

“That delicious, huh? I’m more of a cider or dark wine lady myself but I might have to order one of those,” I joked, trying to lighten her mood. I was also trying to distract myself from my own glum thoughts.

Velline glanced over at me while her silver cheeks flushed a deeper gray. “Excuse my poor manners, Fiella. I don’t usually guzzle wine like a fish, but I needed to take the edge off today.” She took another impressive swallow, her hands gripping the goblet so tight I feared it would shatter.

I nodded at her in solidarity. Sad girls had to stick together. “I hear you there. I’m having the same sort of day. Something bad happen?”

She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before answering. “You could say that.” She had hollows under her eyes, and her usually bouncy white hair was flat around her face. Her tunic was wrinkled and stained with a few mystery substances. It was shocking to see her looking so noticeably frazzled.

Even her wings, usually fluffy and bright, hung limply off her back.

“Wanna talk about it?” I asked gently. I didn’t want to talk about my own situation yet. With the alcohol in my system, I was positive that I would start weeping hysterically. I was surprisingly holding it together so far and didn’t want to push my luck.

She shook her head and held out her goblet. We clinked them together, chugged them down, and set about drowning our sorrows out together. Misery loves company, or so they say.

Drinking with someone else was certainly better than drinking alone.

Eventually, after two more goblets and a few subtle tears wiped on the back of hands, Velline started talking. She explained how the clinic was having a strange influx of sick patients who had mysterious illnesses. Her hands were full, and she was exhausted.

I bought us another round of drinks. She needed it almost as much as I did. I didn’t have many silvers to my name, and I would certainly be completely broke by the time I figured out what to do with my shop, but this moment felt essential. My coffers were already hurting, they wouldn’t notice this expense.

We drank on.

Somewhere between drinks five and six, Tandor set bowls in front of us, stating that the servings of stew were on the house. I dug in gratefully. I scarfed the mixture down so quickly that I could hardly taste it, my thoughts bubbling and churning dizzyingly.

I couldn”t find the courage to explain my situation to Velline. I was sure the news would spread eventually, and for now, I was just grateful for the company.

With unsteady legs, I hoisted myself up and tossed my arm around Velline’s delicate shoulders. She was so short that she tucked under my armpit perfectly.

“I think it’s time for me to go–one more goblet and I’ll be crawling home. Bye, Velline!” I leaned on her a little harder than I intended to, but she kept us upright.

“I think that’s a good idea. I need to get home too.” Her words were slightly slurred. “Thank you for the company, Fiella.”

“Any time, honey! We both needed it. I hope your–” I gestured my hand around vaguely, “–situation gets better.”

She stepped out from under my arm as we exited. “Yours, too. See you later. Get home safe!” She turned in the opposite direction, walking more steadily than I expected her to.

I meandered towards my own cottage. I really did not feel like being alone at home, and I missed Sookie desperately. The thought of my heavily pillowed bed, my collection of thimbles, and my prized ficus usually brought me peace, but right now they just made me feel sad.

The moons were high in the sky when I glanced up. I had spent longer than I thought inside the pub. Night had fallen and the air was chillier than I had expected–crisp enough to seep through the drunken fog clouding my senses.

Kizzi would surely be asleep by now, and I couldn’t bring myself to wake her. This late, there was nowhere else to go. We really needed some businesses for the night-dwelling folk of Moonvale.

The brisk wind smelled like icy leaves and a shiver went down my spine. I loved the freeze season. I preferred it when I was bundled up in front of my fireplace with a book in hand, but it was pretty nice if I was properly dressed for it while out and about, too.

The problem was, I was not dressed warmly enough today. This time of year was typically warmer and I hadn’t bundled myself with my knits and feather-stuffed puffy cloak.

I yanked my thin hood up around my ears, ducked my head, and speed walked towards my cottage. Running was one of the things I hated most in life–I only did it when absolutely necessary. Speed walking was much more practical.

I was so focused on reaching my destination that I hardly paid any attention to my surroundings. I was making great progress until I suddenly found myself sprawled on the ground with my feet knocked out from under me, my face fortunately missing the cobblestones and smashing onto the grass lining the walkway. What in the realms?

That was going to leave a bruise. Or ten. The pleasant buzz in my system was dulling my nerves but I knew I’d feel that one tomorrow.

Ouch.

I yanked my hood off my head so I could pinpoint my attacker, prepared to knock someone out. Oh. It was just one of those old mailboxes. Whoops. I could’ve sworn I was zooming in a perfectly straight line on the walkway.

Those mailboxes were so ugly and crumbly. Someone should really fix them up, or at least knock them down if they weren’t worth the effort. It was a shame to watch them slowly rot away.

Grumbling, I got myself back onto my feet. Mustering as much balance as I could, I lifted one leg to deliver a revenge-kick to the mailbox to hopefully dismantle it once and for all when something caught my eye. Was that… a sign?