Chapter 6 #2
The bartender raises a pierced eyebrow at me, his gaze sizing me up. “You sure about that? I have a feeling you may not enjoy the kind of drink I have an affinity for.”
I furrow my brows, making eye contact with him just as his lips quirk up into a smile—and reveal a pearly white, needle-sharp fang.
I try to suppress my shock, but I can tell by the way he snickers that it’s not lost on him.
“How about I make you a vodka soda? Seems to be the drink of choice for a lot of the females like you that come through here.”
“Like me?” I ask hesitantly.
“You know, the ones trying to lose themselves in a place like this?”
I’m taken aback, but he chuckles, shaking his head.
“You’d be surprised how many stories I’ve collected over my years here.
You’re not the first to try and disappear within the Market Ebon.
It’s a beacon of hope for many, as well as a harbinger of darkness for some.
But if you’re running away from something or someone? You’ve come to the right place.”
I gape at him, shifting in my seat as he saunters away to prepare my drink.
I shake my head, trying to gather myself as I lean against the bartop, elbows on the wood, and bury my head in my hands.
Perhaps coming here wasn’t the right choice.
Perhaps there’s stock in my father’s warnings, Tamiel’s paranoia over my spiritual devotion.
No, I think to myself, taking a deep, steadying breath.
I force my wheels to stop turning, halting the spiral in its tracks before it can begin to take root.
I will not give on this. No matter what truth exists about our world, about the gods, nothing changes the fact that my father has kept me as a caged bird for too long.
He’s gone too far, increasing my treatments to reckless levels and doubling down on his efforts to reform me.
Taking away the one constant I’ve had in my life, in relieving Dina of her duties.
I don’t know what I’m going to do now, but at least I’m doing something.
A drink slams down in front of me, the sticky liquid splashing on the bar top.
“One vodka soda for the lady.”
I look from the drink back up to the bartender.
The liquid is an odd pinkish-red color. He smiles at me again, flashing his fangs without a breath of hesitation.
I take the drink in my hand, lifting it to my lips.
“There’s not . . .” I hesitate, unsure how to voice the question barreling through my mind.
“No blood,” he says through a huff of laughter.
“Just club soda, vodka, and cranberry syrup.” He throws me a wink and I find myself smiling back at him as I take a sip and feel the immediate relief of sugar and bubbles brightening my wearied mind.
It's delicious, similar to the bottled drink I had out by the fighting rings the other night, but somehow even better.
I set the drink down, swallowing the sugary liquid. “Thank you—”
“Lafayette,” he offers, holding a hand out for me to shake.
I startle, sitting up straighter as I shuffle to dry my hand on my slacks before reaching out to his.
He takes my hand gingerly and to my surprise, pulls it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there.
I blush, but he’s dropped my hand before I can say more.
“So what is it?” He throws a towel down on the bar and starts wiping up the remnants of the drinks left by a couple who just got up to leave.
I watch curiously as they snake their way through the crowded room towards a door in the back.
A moment later, they are let through and disappear to whatever lies beyond.
“Your story,” Lafayette specifies when I don’t answer right away.
I turn back to him, pursing my lips together as I consider answering. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” I take another sip of the drink and try to pace myself from chugging the rest of it.
“Well, High Quarter, I hope you find what you’re looking for here tonight. But keep an eye out for trouble; there’s a lot within this territory that would love to see your kind bleed.”
My body tenses, my knuckles going white where they wrap around my drink. I look to my left and then to my right quickly, hoping no one heard his words. “How did you know?” The words rush out of me as I lean in, lowering my voice so it's barely audible over the loud music.
He grabs a bottle from under the bar and pops the top off before taking a swig as he smirks at me again. His lips smack together when he pulls the bottle away.
“Darling, you may as well be a neon sign for the High Quarter. If it wasn’t for the fear I can sense radiating off of you, I would have gone as far as to say you were a member of the Watchers themselves.”
I shift uncomfortably. I had hoped I was at least a little more discreet than that, but I hadn’t had time to run through any kind of disguise before escaping tonight.
“Hey, I’m not one to judge,” he calls out. “You’re not the first of your kind to grace our streets. And you certainly won’t be the last. Lucky for you, the Market Ebon is the place people go to forget where they came from.”
I let out a sigh of relief, hoping that the sentiment carries throughout the patrons around me.
I let my eyes roam over the expanse of the room, taking in the ambiance.
My eyes linger on a taller stranger in the midst of writhing bodies moving to the beat of the music.
I watch him for a moment, stricken by how confident he is as he moves.
A plan forms together as I let myself enjoy the sight of him, a hope that my previous excursions amidst the High Quarter and MidLands may help me find a place to sleep tonight.
To my surprise, I realize he’s watching me too. His eyes track my every move and I cannot deny the warmth that spreads in my core. It may be reckless, but I don’t have many options at the moment.
“How much do I owe you for the drink?” I ask, turning back to Lafayette and digging in my pocket. I realize, too late, that I don’t have any money on me, and my face drops in horror.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lafayette chuckles, his eyes darting down to my empty hands.
“It’s on the house.” He sidesteps a couple paces to refill someone’s drink.
Eyes still on me. “Consider it a little liquid courage.” He nods slightly towards the male that’s caught my eye.
The one who’s still watching me. “So long as you promise to be careful while you’re here. ”
I grin, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Thank you,” I call out, hopping off the stool and raising the glass to him. He tips a nonexistent hat my way before I turn and make my way through the throng of people to introduce myself to the male who’s waiting for me.