I returned to the tavern expecting Heffers to be worried about me. Expecting an exasperated look on his face and maybe even a hug of some sort. I'd probably have to push him off and assure him I was okay.
But instead, as I stepped out of the kitchen and into the bar, I saw Heffers glaring at me from his spot at the front. He was pouring drinks for a few goblins that had taken their places on the stools in front of him. Once he had served them, he turned to glare at me over his shoulder, squinting with those beady eyes as his bushy mustache shook in a disappointed headshake. "You left me to handle the lunch rush alone. I'm docking your pay for that."
"Heffers, you don't pay me."
"And for good reason, I see." He huffed, muttering something about a lack of gratitude. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help out?"
I had almost died, and this was what he was worried about? Fine, fine, I wasn't here to argue. I'd been gone for a handful of hours, and now I was totally fine. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. Either way, it was time to work.
I slipped behind the bar, the familiar scent of aged wood, spilled ale, and faint brimstone settling over me like a comforting, slightly pungent blanket. As I rinsed out the cups and filled them anew, I peered up to survey the many tables ahead. Three of the twelve were now full. And off in the corner, right where I left her, was the strange sleepless woman, still staring into space.
She would have to wait though. Work called.
"Three frothy stouts, and make it snappy!" yelled a trio of lizardmen at the end of the bar.
"Coming right up," I said, grabbing mugs.
They launched into a conversation that made me genuinely consider the concept of freezing to death in northern villages.
"Snowtown's brutal this time of year," one grumbled. "I swear, my tail froze solid last night. Had to heat it on a brazier just to walk this morning."
"Quit your whining," another one said before turning to the quiet and meek purple-tinted lizardman between them. "You don't know what cold is. Not like Johnny here."
"What happened to Johnny?" the other asked.
"He went out for a piss, couldn't hold it in like I told him to. Let's just say frostbite affects far more than tails."
The other lizardman winced in response, looking absolutely relieved the moment I arrived with the drinks. I placed a mug in front of each man, watching them lean over and gulp it down, their scaly Adam's apples bobbing very noticeably. But the one in the middle, Johnny, I assumed, didn't partake, simply staring at the drink with a frown.
Deciding to leave them to it, I walked back to the bar, noticing a man sitting alone near the middle, waving me over. He was watching the lizardmen the entire time, with a look of what I assumed must have been sympathy.
As I got closer to him, I began to realize he wasn't just a regular man.
He was incredibly handsome. Like, villain-lord-of-your-dreams kind of handsome, from the white hair to the red eyes. White hair that looked artfully tousled in the "I definitely did not spend forty minutes on this" kind of way. Eyes that could probably steal your soul without even trying. And then there was that smirk, a smirk that suggested he knew he was hot and was going to use it to his advantage.
I blinked. Twice. Maybe three times, just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating after the lizardmen's snow talk. Nope. Definitely real.
"Hi," I said cautiously, stepping closer. "What'll it be?"
He didn't look up right away. Just swirled the empty cup in front of him like it had personally disappointed him. "Something that makes me forget what century it is."
"Well, I've got ale, cider, questionable whiskey," I said cheerfully. "Pick your poison."
He finally looked at me, eyes glittering like he found me faintly amusing. "You're not from around here."
"Oh, what gave it away?" I leaned on the counter. "The accent? The carefree attitude? The fact that I'm human?"
"All of the above, darling." He extended a hand. "Azazel."
I hesitated a second before shaking it. "Lara."
"Charmed," he said smoothly. "Though, I should warn you, my charm is something of a public hazard."
"I'll risk it," I said. "So, Azazel, what'll it be?"
He tilted his head, considering, then said softly, "Something to make the feelings fade away."
That made me pause. "You mean… metaphorically, right?"
He gestured toward the lizardmen laughing loudly in the corner. "One of my favorite lovers was a lizardman. Scales the color of green glass. Smelled like swamp moss."
"Oh," I said eloquently.
He smiled without humor. "Sorry. Too much too soon? I tend to overshare these days. Comes with quitting the lifestyle."
"What lifestyle?"
"The incubus one," he said with mock drama. "Lust, seduction, the endless carousel of pleasure and heartbreak. You know, the usual. I've decided to go celibate."
I blinked. "You're… an incubus who's gone celibate?"
"Shocking, isn't it?" He took off a glove and rubbed his temple like this was a daily struggle. "Do you have any idea how many men and women throw themselves at me even after I say I'm retired?"
I couldn't help it and laughed. A quick, short laugh before I cleared my throat and forced a face of concern. "That sounds terrible."
"It's agony," he said gravely. "I don't know how much longer I can take it. I feel I'm just one bad day away from relapsing into sin."
"Is it really so sinful to love freely?"
He sighed once more. "You don't understand. If it was love, it would be different. But no one ever falls in love with me, it's always just lust. So please, dear bartender, pour me something strong before I start making regrettable choices again."
"Coming right up," I said, ducking behind the counter before my brain could notice how absurdly good he looked in low light.
Either way, the man had sworn himself into celibacy, and the last thing I needed to do was attract more bad attention. So, I placed my tray down at the back of the bar and ducked my way into the kitchen.
I opened up a cupboard and looked through the bottles, but it was mostly just the cheap and regular stuff. I considered pouring him a coffee with four shots of espresso, but he didn't strike me as a coffee drinker. Finally, I opened the icebox, and my eyes landed on that oh-so-familiar jar of Moon Milk, the one that boldly said DO NOT DRINK.
I picked it up, giving it a little shake. It sounded like milk. Then I opened the lid and peered down. It looked like milk. Finally, I sniffed it, and it certainly smelled like milk.
Shrugging, I began to pour the contents of the jar into a glass. He did say he wanted something.
Picking up the newly concocted drink, I headed back to the bar.
Azazel eyed me skeptically as I approached. "I tell you all my woes, and you serve me milk? Really, darling?"
"It's a special kind of milk," I replied, although I wasn't sure about that either. Truth was, I couldn't help my curiosity. I simply had to know what the deal with this was.
"Then what is it?"
"Something safe. Probably."
He raised an eyebrow. "Probably, eh? Now that sounds like a good time."
He took a sip. And his reaction was immediate. His red pupils flared. The devilish little tail protruding from his waist twitched wildly. "By all the hells," he breathed, "what is that?"
"Feelings fading yet?" I said innocently.
He exhaled shakily, then gave me a grin. "Oh, I'm definitely feeling something."
"Something… good?"
Azazel blinked at me, slowly. Then his expression changed, not in a small, subtle way, but in a dramatic, demonic-juice-just-hit-the-bloodstream kind of way. His smirk turned downright predatory.
"Oh no," I said.
He stood up, his tail practically lashing excitedly behind him.
"Lara, my dear," he said in that dangerously smooth tone, "I think I might be feeling alive again."
"That's great!" I said quickly. "But maybe we could-
Too late. He turned on his heel and strutted toward the lizardmen at the end of the bar.
"Gentlemen!" he announced grandly, tossing his coat over his shoulder like a cape. "Which one of you fine scaled specimens wants to help me rediscover the meaning of passion?"
The tallest of the lizardmen, a scaly green brute with one eye, blinked at him. "What did you just say?"
Azazel leaned an elbow on the table, smile absolutely sinful. "You heard me, soldier. Tell me, do those scales go all the way down?"
I dropped my rag. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no." Was I supposed to act? Cut in? Get between a demonic incubus and three lizardmen?
One of the other lizardmen, the middle one with the purple-tinged scales, suddenly stood up and took three intimidating steps toward Azazel.
"Do I have a volunteer?" the incubus asked.
"Johnny, don't," the one-eyed lizardman put a hand on his shoulder.
It hit me then. I remembered them discussing Johnny. Snowtown. Frostbite. How you can lose all sorts of appendages in the cold.
Johnny's nostrils flared. "You think this is funny, demon?"
Azazel's grin widened. "I think you're funny, gorgeous. And tragic. My favorite type."
"I'll show you type!" Not exactly the best comeback, but next thing I knew, Johnny had grabbed Azazel by the collar.
"Oh, you like it rough?" the incubus arched an eyebrow. "I'm not one for skipping foreplay personally."
"Shut up!"
"Why so tense?"
"You just go around poking fun all willy-nilly. Pretending to flirt when you know some folk can't…"
"Johnny, is it? Johnny, I just met you and have no idea what you mean."
At that moment, I was able to catch Azazel's eye, waving at him to look at me as I gestured down to the crotch area and shook my head in a no motion.
"Oooh," Azazel announced, turning back to Johnny. "Well, no worries, you can be the bottom."
With surprising suddenness, Johnny punched him, throwing him back down to the floor. I thought that might have been the end of it, when the incubus got back up and kicked a barstool right into Johnny's chest.
"Don't you touch him!" the one-eyed lizardman grabbed that barstool, bringing it down on the incubus.
Before I knew it, the other patrons were getting involved. Chairs went flying. People were yelling.
Someone screamed out, "Bar fight!" and at least half the patrons cheered.
Azazel was laughing, actually laughing! Even as Johnny tried to bite him. "You've still got fight in you, Johnny boy! Maybe not everything froze off after all!"
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"
I scrambled behind the bar, waving a rag like a flag of surrender. "Everyone, calm down! Please don't break the tables!"
Of course, no one listened. Orcs were now joining in for fun. I saw a firebolt fly through the tavern space. Realizing I was severely outnumbered and really unprepared, I just sank down behind the bar, sitting there with my back against the boards.
Surprisingly, I found Heffers sitting next to me. I expected him to be angry, or scared, but he looked calm.
"This happens from time to time," he said, slowly opening the cupboard behind us and reaching into it. A moment later, he produced two books. He handed me one. "This could be a while, lass."
I took the book begrudgingly. A History of Necromancers. Well, this was bound to be a boring read. But judging by the screaming, shouting, splintering furniture, and name-calling, this probably would be a while.
As I opened the book, I took a glance at one of the windows lining the tavern, noting how the sun was beginning to set. Hopefully, this brawl would end soon. I needed to go pick up my Moonwater.
And yes, I totally planned on getting it back. In fact, I had a plan for that Wendigo in the woods.