6. Gorgon vs Demon
When I returned to the bar, it was busier than a usual afternoon. Some of the cheer from the previous evening had returned. Owen, looking harried behind the bar, was mixing two cocktails, brewing a tea, and making a cappuccino. A wicche walked out of the bookstore and plopped a book on the bar. Owen had been covering it all without me. It was my business and I'd left him to handle it all on his own.
Patting his back, I stepped up next to him. "I'm so sorry. Time runs differently in a fae bar."
He grunted, which was very unOwenlike. Poor guy was probably ready to pull out his hair.
"Listen, tell me what orders you're working on and then move to the bookstore and relax. Sorry I left all of this for you to handle alone."
Rubbing his forehead, he recited who ordered what and left without ever looking at me. Damn, that wasn't good. As soon as Dave stomped down the stairs a couple of hours later, I told Owen to take off. His bad mood had cleared out the bookstore. Consequently, the bar was standing room only again.
Nigel, a normally quiet and staid regular, was sitting in a large group of wicches, most of whom had forgone their usual tea for cocktails. His pure, true tenor led the group in an amazing rendition of Heart's "Magic Man." Dave actually came out of the kitchen to lean against the wall and listen, which was high praise, indeed.
The afternoon crowd left, including our singers, and the evening crowd began pouring in. Like last night, the bar patrons annexed the bookstore. It was nonstop all night, but I didn't care. It was a second shot at our grand re-opening.
Stheno and her sisters arrived a little after ten. The volume of voices dropped appreciatively, which is what tipped me to their arrival. I doubted most knew who they were, but they knew dangerous predators when they saw them.
"Stheno!" I came around the bar and hugged her. She seemed baffled by the show of affection but accepted it. Mostly, I was trying to let my patrons know she was okay and this wouldn't be a repeat of last night.
Dressed in a short, tight, black dress, Stheno was a stunner. "Sam, these are my sisters Euryale and Medusa."
I heard a couple of gasps in the room, but we ignored it. "It's so lovely to meet you both. Stheno said you don't all get together too often."
"Thank the gods," Euryale mumbled as she scanned the room.
All three sisters had a fierce beauty, with long, black corkscrew curls that fell almost to their butts. They were olive-skinned, with the same light, golden brown eyes, although Medusa's tipped more toward hazel. All three had long, sharp noses and full lips. Although no one would ever confuse them as anything but sisters, they weren't identical.
Euryale, tall, thin, and stern, was wearing a filmy white dress that skimmed the floor and seemed to be the leader. At a guess, I'd say she was the oldest. Stheno was curvier, with a smirk on her lips and a come-on in her eyes. Medusa, I guessed, was the youngest. They were all thousands of years old, but she had an air of adolescent resentment, complete with ripped jeans and a band tee.
"Is the bitch here?" Medusa asked.
Stheno used her one good eye to stare daggers at her sister. The one behind the eye patch had been damaged in New Orleans. She told me it'd be back to normal in a century or two. I was horrified, but she'd shrugged it off. I supposed a century to a being that lived millennia wasn't a big deal.
"She's not," I responded, though the question hadn't been directed at me. I was pretty sure Medusa was referring to Meg.
Euryale walked to a corner table in front of the window and stared at the two men sitting there until they both got unsteadily to their feet and scrambled away. Medusa, apparently tiring of harassing Stheno, went over to sit with her sister.
"Wine," Stheno said. "We're going to need a lot of wine. If it looks like it's going to be a mean drunk night, I'll try to get them out before they destroy your place." She patted my shoulder and went to sit with her sisters.
Once the gorgons were seated, the other patrons seemed to feel it was okay to speak again, until, that is, Liam arrived a few minutes later. He rose from the water, shed his seal skin, donned a robe, and walked meekly across the bar to me. You could have heard a pin drop.
Stepping out of the kitchen, Dave watched, his black, shark-like eyes zeroed in on the selkie.
Liam stood contritely at the server's station, where no one sat, his eyes enormous and filled with remorse. "Please forgive me. I have no idea what came over me. I've never wished you harm."
"None of that was your fault, Liam. None of it. In fact, I apologize to you." I came out from behind the bar. "It was my aunt who cast a spell on you. That wasn't you trying to kill me. That was her."
"Is that who was in my head?" His soft voice trembled. "It felt like poison running through me. Trapping me. I couldn't move, couldn't speak. She used me like a puppet."
"I'm sorry." I took his hand and squeezed. "So very sorry."
He nodded slowly, glancing around, seemingly just realizing that we were the focus of the room. "I can't stay."
I squeezed once more and then dropped his hand. "You're always welcome. I hope you'll feel comfortable returning."
After Liam departed, the mood of the room was far more somber. Damn Abigail. I'd never understand how people could carelessly destroy lives in the pursuit of their own wants. I held up a finger to Stheno's table and then followed Dave back into the kitchen.
"Fucking bitch needs to burn," Dave grumbled, pulling a baking sheet out of the oven.
"Same page," I responded, stalking into the storeroom for bottles of wine. Not wanting to piss off a gorgon, I went for the best bottles I had. I carried an armload back to the bar and noticed fewer people in the room. Grabbing three glasses, a corkscrew, and a bottle of red, I made my way to Stheno's table.
I set down the gasses and then held out the bottle, label up, waiting for approval before I uncorked it. Euryale nodded and I set to work.
"So, what was that about?" Medusa asked.
"Sam's got a homicidal aunt who wants her dead," Stheno offered. "She possessed the selkie?"
Nodding, I poured. "Last night—after you left—she used him to attack me."
Pointing to my neck, Stheno asked, "Is that how you got the new scar?"
Shrugging one shoulder, I topped off her glass and put down the bottle. "What's one more? Ladies, due to unforeseen circumstances, Dave is making po'boys and fries again tonight. Menu's right over there." I pointed. "If you'd like anything, let me know."
"Shrimp," Euryale said, taking a long sip of wine.
"Yeah, same," Medusa said.
"Crab for me and we'll need a few more bottles lined up over here."
I put in the order, dropped off six bottles, and then took care of the dwindling crowd. A few minutes later, Dave dropped off food at the sisters' table. He nodded at Stheno, who winked back. Euryale looked him over in a way that made me uncomfortable to watch, like she was trying to decide if he was worth fucking.
"Demon," she breathed.
"Gorgon," he responded, clearly unimpressed.
Medusa was the one who pushed it too far, though. When he pulled a roll of napkins out of his back pocket and dropped them on the table, she slid her hand up the back of his thigh. Not a second later, she screamed in pain, cradling her burned palm to her chest.
"Watch the hands," he said with more annoyance than anger.
When he turned to leave, Euryale leaped to her feet, blocking him. Stheno and I both jumped to intervene, but Euryale was already high-beaming him.
I stopped, the blood draining from my head. I barely registered the light shooting out of Euryale's eyes or the shock on Stheno's face before slamming my eyes shut and crumpling to the barroom floor. Nononononononono. Not Dave. Choking on a sob, all I could think was, Not Dave, too.
I pressed my face to my knees and searched out the gorgon signatures in my head. They weren't dead. It shouldn't have worked, but three barely perceptible purple afterimages surrounded a blip of pure, unrelieved black. I picked out Euryale and squeezed, imagining my magic like a boa constrictor. When I heard choking, I squeezed harder. The bitch deserved to die for turning Dave to stone.
"Gods damnit! I can't take you bitches anywhere." Stheno's snarl was followed by a grunt and a crash.
The one constant grumpy guardian in my life for the last seven years was gone.
"Come on, you. Cut it out," Dave murmured. He gathered me up and rose, carrying me from the room.
My eyes flew open, staring at his deep red skin, his shiny black shark-like eyes, and then I was hugging him hard enough to choke. "You're okay?"
"Fuck, I'm fine. I know how to close my eyes too." He kicked open the swinging kitchen door and then put me down on the island before grabbing my chin and staring into my eyes. "How did you do that?" he mouthed.
I shrugged, shaking my head. "Did I hurt her?" I mouthed back.
He nodded. Seeing my horror, he whispered, "She'll live." He closed his eyes a moment, as though listening, and then curled a lip. "Sorry, kid. The place cleared out again."
Sighing, I hopped off the island. "I can't even blame that one on Abigail. I'm the one who tried to pop the head off a gorgon."
Dave pushed through the door and went behind the bar to pour himself a tumbler full of cinnamon schnapps. "Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn't have burned the bitch's hand, but I've dealt with enough of that shit in my life. I'm not their fucking demon whore." He downed the liquor in one and then turned back to me. "Maybe we both overreacted."
I stared at him a moment, realizing I had no idea what Dave had had to endure in his life. He was my grumbly, foul-mouthed, half-demon cook. From what I'd picked up over the years, he was old, maybe even as old as Clive. Being neither fully human nor fully demon must have made those many years difficult. Given his violence to Medusa's grope and his demon whore reaction, those years may have been more than just difficult.
"No overreaction on my part. Anyone who hurts you deserves to lose her head."
I couldn't read his expression, but he blew out a breath before putting his preferred liquor bottle back under the counter. "Come on, kid. Let's close it up and go home."
"Oh, um."
Leaning back against the bar, he crossed his arms and eyed me warily. "What?"
"Remember how you said you'd teach me to drive?" Smiling hopefully, I waited.
"Fuuuuck," he drew out. "You're going to strip my gears. When I said I'd teach you, I meant on someone else's piece of shit car, not my baby."
"Oh. Right. Fair enough." I went to get my coat. It was about ten miles to Colma. If I tried to keep my pace to at least close to human speed, it'd take me over an hour each way. With time being wonky in Faerie, I had no idea what time I'd be able to open my own place. Damn.
When I returned to the bar, Dave was waiting, keys in hand.
"Really?"
"Don't make me regret this." He tossed me his keys and hit the lights while I ran up the stairs, excited to finally be learning how to drive.