Calponia was in desperate need of job. She eyed the tottering stack of late notices over the edge of the Sunday adverts, sighing as the lights flickered and went out over head. Looks like the power bill had rolled over to two months too late. Luckily there was enough natural light coming through the dirt streaked skylight to continue scrolling for potential prospects. She was now beyond desperate and while jobs weren't exactly scarce, Calponia had an unfortunate drawback in maintaining employment.
She was a magnet for disaster.
There was the incident at Sacks Leathers and Furs Emporium where all the pipes burst throughout the building Since she was the only one on duty at the time, the blame somehow fell on her though there was no proof she did anything wrong. Mr. Sacks let her go nonetheless, as he couldn't pay her after losing so much merchandise.
There was the fast food burger joint where the fryers exploded. That was a painful mess. Calponia still had burn scars on her shoulders and left arm. Not to mention poor Freddy the Fry Guy. She wondered how his skin grafts were doing.
The incidents went on and on. How all the plants mysteriously withered and died at the Florist's where she was a clerk. Any waitressing job she took ended with a string of unexplained food poisoning and, in one case, a violated Health Code.
She couldn't even think of what happened at Lori's Antiques and Curios without wincing. She lasted a total of five hours at that job. Calponia now had a reputation among the locals, and since her car had been repossessed last week, her financial prospects were dimmer than ever.
She sighed, scanning the various positions, realizing every one of them wouldn't hire her for the sake of their business. She slumped, dropping her face into her hands. "Maybe I'm cursed," she mumbled.
Her coffee mug cracked in half, dribbling coffee across the paper. Calponia glared at the offending porcelain through her fingers, wishing she could flip off the universe as her eyes followed the line of split coffee across the page. She paused, staring at the advert she was certain wasn't there before.
***Wanted, one tavern wench. No education required. Must be personable and willing to work under odd hours and conditions.***
She blinked, not believing her eyes. No education? Even the local bars required a high school diploma. What the hell was a wench? She squinted at the minuscule contact information below the advert, slightly blurred by coffee, and snorted. It must be a joke ad. She went to grab a towel, tossing her broken mug in the sink and blotting the ruined paper. Her eyes drew back to the ad, frowning at the contact info for a moment longer before she planted her fists on the table.
"Calponia Anders, are you desperate enough to make a big old fool of yourself?" She asked the dingy walls of her tiny kitchen. An ominous crumbling of plaster from the ceiling was her only reply. Yes, she was that desperate. What did she have to lose? She leaned over the soggy paper, reading the instructions aloud. "Draw a door, knock three times." She grabbed a sharpie from her desk, deciding a fresh coat of paint would be worth it if this moment of insanity panned out.
Calponia drew a full sized rectangle, from floor to two inches above her head, taking care to add a knob. What was a door without a handle? Taking a deep breath, she tucked her sharpie in her pocket, wiped her coffee sticky hands on her jeans and rapped threes time on her wall.
"Keep it down, tart!" That would be her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, who was convinced Calponia was actually a lady of the night. Her cheeks burned as she stood there, her fist still raised, wondering what the hell she was thinking and hoping her landlord wouldn't see her "door" before she scraped together enough money for paint. Calponia wondered if the local shelter would accept her when she was turned out on the street. The wall shuddered.
She took a step back, wondering with alarm if Mr. Henderson was whacking it with his walker until she realized she could see light. Calponia stared, her jaw slack as the outline of the door glowed, a moment before her wall swung open.
Calponia realized she was definitely not looking into Mr. Henderson's apartment. She looked out into an old world tavern, the scents of wood wax and a bouquet of alcohol pervading the burnt coffee scent of her home. Calponia swallowed, wondering if the abysmal state of her life finally drove her round the bend when a gravelly male voice called from within the smoky depths of the tavern.
"Are you here to answer the advert or not, girl?"
She jumped, searching for the owner of the voice, but unable to make out much of anything through the haze. "Um, yes?"
"Don't just stand there like a landed carp, get your arse in here. I don't like to leave the door open for long."
She stumbled forward before thinking it through, realizing psychotic break or not, the prospect of a job was too strong a lure. The haze cleared the moment she stepped over the threshold, further revealing an old world tavern motif with a well polished wooden bar and red velvet upholstered stools and chairs. Her eyes finished adjusting to the rather dim lightning, noting a couple of odd looking patrons situated around the room, not sparing her a glance as she bumbled her way towards the bar. There was a slumped over gentleman in the corner, wearing a black leather vest with what looked like a ribcage emblazoned down the front. The bone decoration theme continued down his leather pants. A rifle leaned against his chair, though it was fashioned to look like a human spine. She looked the other way quickly, not wanting to catch his eye. There were two other patrons present at the bar itself.
A rather pale man sat at the far end, dressed in a strange outfit that looked like he stepped out of a historical re-enactment a few bars short of factual, militant in style but resembling no army she heard of. He sipped a glass of dark red liquid and ignored her, casually scratching at a dried piece of food on the bar. His nails were far too long.
The other patron also wore costume, though he looked like a Shakespearean reject, clothes thoroughly rumpled and fake mustache askew. This one also ignored her, leaving Calponia's gaze to fall on the bartender.
His attention was fully on her as he rubbed down a glass with a rag. He was an unassuming gentleman of medium build, blue eyes so dark she thought they were black, brown hair, a few inches taller than her, plain features, not overly handsome, not hideous. Nothing about him stood out at all. He was probably the most utterly forgettable person she'd ever met.
If he gave her a job, Calponia would never forget his face as long as she lived. She nervously extended her hand. "Hullo, I am here for the tavern wench position," she said. Awareness crackled as both the pale man and the Shakespearean reject surreptitiously eyed her around their drinks. Her hand hung in the air for an awkward length of time until the bartender lifted a brow.
"Your hands are sticky," he said.
She dropped her hand, self conscious. "Sorry, I--I didn't expect the door to work." Did he know about the split coffee? How? The bartender snorted, setting the glass down to give her a once over. He pursed his lips, his expression unmistakably unimpressed. "What's your name, girl?"
"Calponia," she said, fidgeting.
He slung the rag over his shoulder, leaning back with his arms folded over his chest. Calponia furtively looked at the high slanted ceiling, feminine awareness pricking up her spine. Plain looking or not, the man was built like a brick house.
She looked back at him when he whistled. "That is one strong bète noir," he said, pulling his lip.
She frowned at him. "Benny who what?"
He shook his head waving a dismissive hand at her. "No, no, we don't need that kind of trouble here. Back through the door you go."
"Wait," Calponia rocked forward, slapping her hands on the bar in desperation. "Please, give me a chance." Something popped, filling the air with the scent of well aged whiskey.
To her surprise, the bartender gazed upwards, his expression put out. "Seriously? She's a hot mess!" He addressed the air.
"You could at least give her a trial run, Mack," said the Shakespeare reject in a light alto that made Calponia look twice. Oh, oooooh. She gave a tentative smile which the 'man' returned with a raised glass
"Oh, shut it Cesario," snapped Mack the bartender, glaring at Calponia. "Let's see how you handle the night shift. If you manage not to set anything on fire, you can stay on."
Calponia tried not to look guilty, hoping she could avoid doing so for one damn night. "Deal."
He jerked his head over his shoulder. "There's aprons in the back. Go throw one on and I show you the ropes."
Her rib cage creaked as she released her breath, scurrying around the length of the bar before Mack came to his senses and kicked her butt to the curb. The old whiskey scent permeated the back room even more so than the front. She wondered if there was an open cask somewhere as she found a row of freshly bleached aprons hanging from hooks along the back wall. Calponia took a moment to herself, leaning her forehead against the warm wooden wall as she tried to gather her thoughts in order. They hadn't even discussed hours or payment. What if the wages were pitiful? She was so behind in her finances. Maybe she could make up the difference in tips. Men tipped the fair looking barmaids. She wasn't bad looking for all her misfortunes. She had naturally dark eyelids and lips, it was the reason Mr. Henderson called her a lady of the night. Coupled with bright green eyes and black curls, she thought she looked more gypsy than whore. Well, hazel eyes at least. She could do 'alluring' if she tried. She took a breath, pulling an apron over her grubby jeans and tank top. Least Mack hadn't remarked on the abysmal state of her clothing.
Calponia was knotting the apron strings behind her back when the entire tavern rumbled on its foundations.
She tipped over, crashing into the aprons and landing in a tangle of strings on the floor. "What the hell?" She squawked, fighting to free herself from the strangling apron tendrils as Mack burst into the back room.
"I gotta go, you need to tend the bar."
"What?" She must have sounded slightly hysterical because he paused long enough to frown at her.
"I must answer the warning bell. Something is where it should not be," he said, utterly cryptic. He smacked the side of a metal locker in the corner, popping it open to reveal a worn leather jacket and squashed looking bushman's hat. "Relax, I'll be back in an hour or so, before the evening rush hits. Just keep an eye on things and don't let Eugene snack on anyone."
"What-what?" She sputtered, dogging his steps as he hustled back out front. "What the bloody hell is a Eugene?"
"Yo," said the pale man, nodding his chin at her.
Mack squinted at him. "Abide bar rules," he said. The pale man waved him off. The bartender rounded on the Shakespearean reject. "Can you keep an eye on her?"
"I shall try my best sir," 'he' said.
"Good enough," said Mack, grabbing the panicking Calponia by the shoulders. He gave her a slight shake to stop her babbling. "It will be fine. It's merely a border dispute. We'll discuss particulars when I get back." He headed towards the door, stopping at the last second. He whirled around, pointing at her. "No fires. I hate fires. Oh, and, don't leave the door open."
The door slammed shut behind him to make a final point, leaving Calponia alone and bewildered behind the bar.
The Shakespearean reject coughed into a fist. "Um, hello, Lady Calponia, I am Cesario. The pale lad at the end there is Eugene. Mind the teeth. And the sleeping chap in the bone suit is Munch. Don't mind him, he won't stir until happy hour."
"It's just Calponia," she said faintly, eyeing Eugene with an air of distrust. "Mind the teeth?"
He smiled at her, revealing a long set of canines. "Don't worry, I don't drink from the cursed. Taste is completely off."
Calponia smiled faintly and sat down hard on the floor.
"Oh, nice going, fang face. She's greener than a spring bush," said Cesario, coming round the bar to help Calponia to her feet with a slim but surprisingly strong arm.
"Thank you," she said, bracing herself on the bar to stare hard at the vampire across from her. "You know what, fine, okay let's take that train full speed to crazy town. Ghosts and werewolves real too? Is Bigfoot really out there?"
Eugene frowned, sharing a concerned glance with Cesario. "Madame I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to give you such a shock to the system. I assumed by entrance into the tavern you possessed more spacial awareness of the multiverse."
Calponia gave him a blank look. "The what now?"
"Oh dear," said Cesario, patting her hand. "How did you even open the door?"
"I knocked three times," said Calponia, eyeing the bar selection as she wondered which of these appealing looking bottles contained scotch and why so many of them were glowing. Was that drink on fire inside the bottle? When she saw the one with tiny fairies swimming through the murky liquid she rounded on the two. "What the hell is this place?"
"Uh, well," Eugene stood, bowing with a flourish. "Welcome to the Edgewise Tavern, residence of Macklemore Edgewise, warden and proprietor."
Cesario selected a normal looking bottle of amber liquid, pouring Calponia a shot which she gratefully threw back. "Edgewise?" she coughed.
Eugene stalked to the shuttered window, lifting the shade for her to see the swirling fog outside. "The tavern at the edge of the multiverse, existing everywhere and nowhere at once, welcome to all comers if they know the way in," he let the shade drop. "Provided they follow the rules."
Calponia was about to ask what the rules were when the impact of the vampire's words smacked her between the eyes. "I think I need another drink," she muttered as Eugene stalked back to the bar. She thought stalking was the only way he knew how to move.
"How did you go vampy?" She burst out, worried the bony guy in the back was something equally odd.
"Standard militarized transformation virus injection. Why?"
"Injection? Standard? I've never heard of this," said Calponia, leaning heavily on the bar. Cesario slid another shot in front of her.
"If you haven't heard of the Blood Empire then you are more disconnected from the multiverse than I thought," 'he' eyed Calponia over the crumpled ruff round 'his' neck. "Maybe you got through because of the bète noir."
"Just what the heck is that, exactly?"
Both patrons shifted their gazes away. Calponia was two seconds from a shit fit when the door burst open, startling them and causing the sleeping Munch to fall out of his chair with a series of clacking sounds.
A group of men clambered through the doorway, their garb unmistakable, down to the assemblage of peg legs and occasional eye patch. A man in a black long coat, with an exceptionally long feather in his hat, swaggered up to the bar. He gave Calponia a very pointed once over and grinned at her. There was enough gold on his teeth to blind her.
"Why, 'ello there dove," he purred, oozing enough masculine charm to make her very aware of how the apron clung to her chest. "Could I get a round of your best swill for my men and a bottle of rum for myself?" He winked at her before sauntering over to the corner the pirate crew had commandeered for themselves.
Calponia rounded on Eugene and Cesario, who was noticeably fanning 'himself', clearly flustered. "What do I do?" She squeaked, her eyes darting along the row of bottles and barrels. "I don't know what swill is."
Cesario shook off the fog of lust. "Easy, dear, we shall get you through this. Though," 'he' eyed the door, "I would have thought Mack would be back by now."
"Never mind that," said the vampire, retrieving several empty tankards from behind the bar. "Let's get you through your first service. Swill is pirate gab for beer. There's the tap there. Though it would be better if we just rolled a keg over for the boys. The rum is the fourth bottle on your right. Munch is awake. He's going to need a brew as well--oh hey, easy there." Eugene caught Calponia when she swayed, his grip like iron. He released her quickly, as if touching her burned. She took a steadying breath, calling on years of her brief waitress stints.
A whiff of old whiskey stymied her senses, calming her nerves. She clapped her hands. "Alright. Eugene do you think you can roll the keg for me?"
Ten minutes later Calponia managed to ferry two dozen tankards for the pirates with minimal sloshing, while the vampire set a keg on the table for them. She gently nudged a brew in front of the groggy looking Munch, and returned with a tumbler of rum for the smarmy looking captain, who pulled her into his lap the second the glass hit the table.
"Tell me dove, what's your name?" His hand landed on her butt, making her squeak. "You are certainly a welcome sight over that old grump" She tried to wiggle free, wincing when his fingers dug in to hold her in place. Would slapping the crap out of him get her fired? She was about to risk it when the door opened once again.
"Unhand the lady, you depraved mongrel," sneered a woman in a full skirts and chain mail armor, a naked sword at her waist. She walked with catlike grace towards them, an antique pistol in her hand, raised right at the pirate's face.
He gave the pistol a lazy grin, slowly sliding his hand off Calponia's rear in a manner not at all apologetic.
"You know the rules, Lady Agatha," said the pirate, "No killing each other inside the perimeter."
Lady Agatha sneered. "Nothing against some righteous maiming."
The pirate went still, the promise of violence crackling between the two when Calponia stepped forward and slapped him across the face.
"Hands off, jackass," she spat at him before turning to the tensed Lady Agatha with an apologetic smile. "What can I get you this evening?"
The woman's lips twitched as she put her pistol away. "Oh, I like her. A glass of chartreuse, please." Despite their quarrel, she sat down at the table next to the pirates, eyeing them with disdain.
Calponia nodded, making her way back to the bar before she allowed herself a hysterical moment. "I'm so fired," she said, gripping the bar tight. The whiskey scent fanned over her to little effect until Cesario snorted.
"Please, you did nothing wrong. Mack's punched Captain Ravelock at least five times this past month. The man is a pig," said the Shakespearean, setting a bottle of sharp green liquor on the bar. "Though I am happy you did something before Eugene decided to defend your honor." Calponia looked over at the vampire, staring at the shards of broken glass sticking out of his palm. He'd shattered his glass.
"Good heavens," yelped Calponia, grabbing a bar towel to wrap around his hand. "Oh, oh, oh, should I dig the shards out?" Eugene blinked up at her, clearly surprised by her reaction.
"I'll be fine," he mumbled, "best to serve Lady Agatha before she gets antsy."
They couldn't have that happen. Calponia didn't have the opportunity to fuss over Eugene's wounded hand as more patrons poured in through the door. A couple pale looking men whose uniforms told her they were more vampires. A women in Victorian dress covered in clock gears followed them in, and finally another similarly dressed fellow with a monocle and a mechanical arm that released puffs of steam when it moved. By the time Calponia took their orders and made it back to the bar, Eugene's hand was unmarred, as if the injury never happened.
She huffed at him. "Guess your condition comes with some perks," she said, smiling at him. He gave her a small smile in return until he noticed the other vampires in the bar.
"Calponia, I'll serve those gentlemen," he said, grabbing an opaque porcelain bottle from behind the bar. She didn't argue, guessing correctly what her new vampire friend was drinking when she mopped up the coppery scented liquid.
Cesario nudged her with a wink. "I think he likes you, and he doesn't like anyone. Must be that bète noir of yours."
She rounded on the 'young man'. "Alright, drag show, spit it out, what is a benny hana?"
Cesario blinked at her. "How did you know?"
Calponia rolled her eyes. "The fake mustache was a bit of a giveaway. And I can see your bindings through the collar of your shirt." She planted her hands on her hips. "What is this benny thingie?"
One of the pirates staggered to his feet, yelling to the rest how he needed to take a piss. He made it to the door, tripping through it to the outside. The door began to shut behind him, stopping short on the floor so it was open a crack.
Cesario hedged. "You have no idea it's on you? You never noticed how misfortune tends to follow in your wake?"
Calponia's eyes widened. "But that's just bad luck."
"How long have you had bad luck Calponia?"
She fell silent thinking. She remember how her clumsiness as a kid seemed to escalate as she got older. How things seemed to go so wrong when she was around. How worried her parents were for her before their passing.
"All my life," she said. "I really am cursed."
Cesario nodded. "You were most likely born with the affliction. It is a miracle you survived this long."
The door shuddered.
The taverns fell silent, lifting their faces to look at it.
"Who left the door cracked?" Captain Ravelock roared, jumping to his feet as he ran for it. Lady Agatha wasn't far behind, drawing pistol and sword as the door groaned ominously.
Cesario and Calponia looked at each other a moment before the tavern door exploded inward, throwing back the pirate and the lady in a shower of splintered wood.
A massive figure filled the doorway, draped in a gruesome display of chains and hooks coated in dried blood. He stepped over the threshold, revealing a scarred face worthy of Frankenstein's monster. His yellowed eyes scanned the bar, settling on the hunched figure of Munch who was trying very hard to go unnoticed.
"Listen up, you lot," snarled the giant, sliding a roll of paper from his belt. He let it fall open, holding up the unmistakable likeness of Munch on a Wanted: Reward flier. "I am here to take this one into custody for crimes across multiple realms. I want no trouble."
Lady Agatha struggled to her feet, shoving her mass of blonde curls out of her face. "I'm afraid such action is prohibited in this establishment sir. The Edgewise is a sanctuary--"
The giant cut her off with a backhand that sent her flying toward the bar. She would have likely crashed if one of the vampire patrons hadn't snatched her out of the air and set her on her feet.
"This is bad," said Cesario, her hand traveling to the dagger at her waist. Calponia suspected it would be about as effective as a toothpick against the iron encrusted giant bearing down on them. Needing to arm herself with something, she grabbed the bottle full of swimming fairies, hefting it up like a club despite their squeals of protest.
"What are the rules?" Calponia spoke out of the corner of her mouth.
"Like Lady Agatha said, this place is a sanctuary to all, which means no conflicts pass the front doors, no murdering one another, and most importantly, no bounty hunters."
The giant reached the bar, placing his meaty paws down on either side of Calponia.
"You in charge tonight, honey?"
Her blood ran cold at the way his eyes wandered over her, wishing desperately she dressed more like Cesario. "For the moment yes," she said.
He leaned in; his fetid breath rolled over her face, making her want to retch. "You gonna let me do my job without issue?"
She hesitated. On the one hand, how much was this job worth. It was clearly an insane one with vampires and pirates as a normal occurrence. Giving up the Munch was sure to get her sacked before she truly started but that fit the pattern of her life.
In a backwards sort of way, the bounty hunter standing before her was also her fault. Since she was born cursed and all. She sighed, her shoulders drooping as she realized what she was going to do. She saw Eugene tense from across the room a moment before she spoke.
"Piss off and get out. You're not welcome--" She looked up to see the giant's fist flying towards her face. A whoosh of air blew her hair sideways. The fist never reached her as the giant flew backward, crashing through the pirate's table, destroying more furniture and sending beer and crushed tankards everywhere. Eugene stood next to her, one arm extended from pushing the bounty hunter away.
The giant rolled to his feet, unsheathing a pair of wicked looking blades. "Damn Blood Empire," he snarled, slashing the closest pirate across the gut. Calponia looked on shocked, not understanding why he would attack the unarmed man when she realized all the vampires in the room stiffened as one, the smell of blood thick in the air.
"Cover your noses!" Eugene shouted at them, slapping a hand over his face. He turned to her, his irises a brilliant blood red. "Where in the nine Hells is Mack?"
With the strongest opponents fighting bloodlust, all hell broke loose as the rest of the tavern patrons stood up to the massive bounty hunter. Unfortunately, the vampires seemed to be the only ones with the required strength to take down the monster. The pirates slashed at him with various weaponry, more than one earning a blade to the gut. Lady Agatha shot him in the back, though it seemed to make him mad more than anything. Eugene grabbed Calponia with his free arm, swinging her out of the way as the man with the mechanical arm flew over the bar, landing on the floor next to them with a groan.
"What do we do?" Calponia stared at the chaos in horror. This was her fault wasn't it? Not that she could help it, but Mack gave her a chance to prove her worth. Cesario tugged her arm.
"We need to give Munch two minutes," she said, ripping her ridiculous ruff off. The fake mustache was gone, revealing her feminine face.
"Why two minutes?" Calponia searched through the fighting for the little bone clad man and found him perched on his table, setting up his spinal rifle on a tripod stand. The intent was clear. She looked around for stalling ideas, her eyes falling on the row of bottles. "I have an idea but it's so going to get me fired."
"Well, that bounty hunter is going to get us so dead," said Cesario.
"Can I have that ruff?" Calponia took the collar, ripping it into strips. "Be a dear and grab some of those bottles. The higher proof the better."
"Mack won't like this," Eugene mumbled through his fingers.
"Well, he's not here, is he?" Calponia snapped, shoving a length of cloth into a bottle of rum. She took a breath. "Sorry, Eugene. This is not my best first day," she said, handing him two wads of cloth. "If you feel like jumping back into the fray."
He stared at the cloth, uncomprehending what she meant. Calponia shrugged. She had other problems than a gentleman vampire's dignity. She patted herself down, hoping she had lighter on her person but the only thing in her pockets was a sharpie.
"Crap in a can," said Calponia, wincing as the Lady Agatha took another hard blow from the bounty hunter. "Anyone have a damn lighter?"
There was a muted clink. Calponia looked down at a plain silver zippo sitting on the bar, certain it hadn't been there a moment ago. Determined not to over think it, she scooped it up and lit the wick.
"Everybody clear," she screamed. Her voice carried over the fighting. She tossed her half-assed molotov cocktail and hoped for one tiny moment of good fortune. The others saw it coming, diving out of the way. At the last second the bottle began to wobble off course, its trajectory changing in what Calponia could see was going to miss the giant completely.
"Crap," she said. A whiff of whiskey teased her senses. The bottle swung in mid air and shattered over the giant's back in the strangest explosion of flames she'd ever seen. The fire contained itself on the giant's back alone, defying a few laws of physics in the process.
The bounty hunter yelped, swatting at the fire on his back, spinning in a helpless circle as he battled the flames. He completely missed the click from Munch's bone rifle. A shot rang out. Calponia swore the scattering of bullets looked like teeth. The giant froze, an expression of incredulity on his face before he face planted on the floor. The flames magically went out on his back.
Calponia wondered if they managed to kill him, when he let out a massive groan and shuddered, too wounded to rise. The Munch casually disassembled his gun, nodding to Calponia.
"Nice job kid," he said, sitting back in his chair to enjoy his miraculously undisturbed brew.
Eugene slid up beside her. "What say I drag his great big carcass out of here, eh?" The vampire's voice sounded off, due to the rags shoved up his nostrils.
Calponia smiled at him. "Thank you Eugene, that would be most helpful."
"Come on," said Cesario, "let's get the rest sorted out."
Despite the violence and excessive amounts of blood, somehow, no one was dead. Calponia was a bit shocked by that, considering a few of the pirates were seriously injured, though Captain Ravelock insisted they'd be fine with some rum and a rest. He slapped her ass as she left, though she didn't have the heart to whack him one when the man was nursing a bloody head injury. She left Lady Agatha to scold him, helping the other patrons put tables and chairs to rights. There was nothing that could be done about the smashed table but the door was a more worrisome issue. She looked toward it, realizing it had been open all this time.
There was a solid wooden door, undisturbed, as if the bounty hunter never came smashing through. She gaped at it, trying to understand how it was possible when Lady Agatha paused beside her.
"Ah, I see the tavern is already in self repair mode. We might get our table back yet," she said, clapping a hand on Calponia's shoulder. "Well done this evening, girl. I think the tavern approves of you."
Approved of her, as if it was aware of her. She remembered the hints of whiskey in the air, Mack's upward stare, talking at the ceiling. How the lighter appeared out of thin air, and the flaming bottle corrected course. A self aware tavern. Calponia felt the urge for another shot of whiskey herself but there was still blood to mop off the floor. She was doing just that when Mack burst through the door.
And barely a moment after the pirates slid the newly reassembled table into place to lounge around. The patrons called out various greetings. Even the Munch waved. Mack walked up to her, his eyes wary.
"My apologies, the border dispute turned out messier than I anticipated," he looked around the room, noting the casual air of the patrons. It might have looked normal if it wasn't for the array of bandages covering most of them. "Exciting night?"
Calponia leaned on her mop, smiling up at him, trying not to look at her charred, blood smeared apron. "Nothing we couldn't handle."
"Definitely a keeper," said Eugene as he stalked by.
Mack stared after him. "Why does the vampire have rags stuffed up his nose?"
"Someone cut themselves," said Calponia with a shrug.
Mack sniffed the air. "Does it smell a little smoky in here to you?"
A heavy whiff of whiskey slammed into them, covering the lingering scent of smoke completely. Mack gave her a gimlet eye. A crinkle drew Calponia's eye to the floor where Mack toed the half burnt wanted poster with his boot.
"Nothing you couldn't handle, eh?" He grinned at his blushing tavern wench. "You're hired."
The End