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The rain had ceded into a drizzle when the cab stopped in front of Teardrop bar's neon sign

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The rain had ceded into a drizzle when the cab stopped in front of Teardrop bar's neon sign. Through the polarized window, I could see a crowd starting to build up outside the double doors, which were guarded by the same guys from last time. For a moment I wondered how the hell I was planning to get past them. Last time, Hunter had been the one who let us inside; now I was solely aiming on good luck.

"Uh...Miss?" the driver, who couldn't have been older than twenty five, said timidly, his accent thick. I looked back at him, noticing he was staring wide-eyed out the window himself. "Are you going in there?"

"Yes?" My brows met as I handed him cash for the ride.

"That seems dangerous. It looks like a dumpster, and those people...." He made a pause, and his almond-shaped eyes diverted from the scene outside to meet mine before saying, "I think they are exchanging drugs."

I didn't understand what he meant at first, my mind two steps behind.

I gave the bar a second glance—perhaps I'd missed the drug-dealers he was talking about—but I found the same people waiting in line outside. I wondered if he found their flamboyant looks menacing—glittery makeup, outstandingly short dresses, transparent clothing, and a couple of fishnets where someone who was in a reasonable state of mind would not use fishnets—although it didn't cross the line of extravagant bars in any city.

Forcing myself to look closer, however, I started to peal through the thin sheet of glamour, finding each of them had their own distinctions. Wings, scaly skin, translucent eyes, fire or colored tendrils swirling around their fingers...tails.

I shook my head. He couldn't be seeing that. "Dumpster?" I asked. "You see a dumpster?"

"Well, yeah," he said, almost embarrassed. "That place looks like it's falling apart, and those guys standing outside look sketchy. They're smoking and handing each other things that look far away from legal."

I didn't know if I could un-see glamour. Perhaps there was a way to switch off the supernatural sight, but nothing I was merely aware of at the moment. Not when I didn't even understand how I could easily see through some things and had to focus on others.

A shiver tiptoed on my skin with the image of Hunter's face melting into Roy's, and I cleared my throat. "I'm just meeting some friends. I'll be fine."

"You're friends with them?" He sounded genuinely baffled, scratching the back of his head when I reached to unbuckle my seatbelt. "You don't look like the kind of girl who does crack."

I wouldn't argue that.

"I don't," was all I said before pushing the door open and swinging one of my legs off the car. When I noticed his brown eyes were still wide with worry, I urged myself to come up with something else. "But seriously, don't worry. I'm taking them to a rehab facility next week."

The Missing Link (Book 1: Outcast) [CURRENTLY EDITING]Where stories live. Discover now