Crawford, Oregon

Chapter Four: The Importance of Being Frank

"Really? This place?" Ronnie scoffed.

As the two of us stood side by side on the pavement, we each gawked at the front entrance of Riley's Roadhouse, one of the seedier bars that Crawford had to offer. On the surface, there was nothing truly remarkable about this place. The stony exterior was a little faded, the flickering neon sign was a bit dull, and the whole place reeked of spilled beer and body odor. However, despite its looks, this bar was anything but ordinary.

"Yeah, this is it," I replied. "It may not look like much, but trust me, this is the place we need to be." As I stepped forward and grabbed the door handle, I added, "Just stay close and don't make eye contact with anybody."

I jerked the door open and walked inside, only to have Ronnie reluctantly follow after me. Much like its exterior, the interior of Riley's Roadhouse was nothing special. The wood floor was sticky, the music was loud, and the lighting was dim at best. Even the bar itself seemed average, donning a long line of wobbly barstools and a shelf full of run-of-the-mill liquors. However, none of that was what made Riley's unique. No, what truly set this bar apart was its clientele.

The entire building was crawling with vampires of all shapes and sizes. Some of them sat at their tables and sipped their drinks with their friends. Others tried their luck at the pool table or the dart board. And some even tried, and failed, to dance along to the blaring music on the barroom floor. However, regardless of what they were doing, one fact remained: each and every one of them was a vampire. And, upon seeing this, Ronnie's jaw dropped.

"Oh my God," she muttered. "You brought me to a vampire bar?"

"It's not just for vampires. It's open to all monsters," I corrected. "But Wednesday nights are buy one, get one for vampires. That's why there's so many of them here tonight."

"Yeah, because that makes me feel so much better." Ronnie reached into her jacket and prepared to pull out her wooden stake. However, before she could, I stopped her.

"Don't bother," I said. "You can't stake anybody in here."

"I beg to differ."

"No, I mean you can't stake anybody in here. Literally. This place has a hex that prevents violence of any kind."

"So, what? This is the only bar in the world that's never had a bar brawl?"

"Pretty much. You see, this place was designed to be a safe haven for monsters. But that can't happen if they're constantly at each other's throats. So, the owner had a spell put on the building that outlawed fighting within its doors. And, as an extra precaution, he added another spell that prevented any human from stepping inside."

"Well, if that's true, then how did I get in?"

"Because you're the welcomed guest of a monster." I shot her a sly grin. "See? I told you that you needed me."

Ronnie rolled her eyes, then said, "Just take me to your informant so we can get out of here."

I nodded, then began to make my way across the crowded barroom, allowing Ronnie to follow close behind. We sifted through the tables of tipsy vampires, each of them shooting Ronnie a peculiar glance as she passed them by. Even when we arrived at the bar, the vampires along the barstools all turned to stare at her, some of them going as far as to lick their lips. However, when they spotted me standing next to her, they quickly turned away and went back to their drinks.

As I leaned against the bar, Ronnie asked, "So, where's your guy?"

I pointed and replied, "Right there." She followed my finger, only to find it aimed at the scruffy-looking bartender. I explained, "His name's Frank Riley. He owns this bar. But, more importantly, he knows every monster-related thing that happens in this town. If anybody knows about your mystery monster, then it's him."