"This is supposed to be a bar?" Ruth looked down at the slip of paper and the number on the old wooden door in front of her. "He wasn't lying when he said it was in a maze of buildings either."
She took a step back to observe the building in front of her once more. At the ground level, it had a wooden door with glass window panes that were almost impossible to see through. Two plants sat in pots on either side of the door; partially obscured by one was what looked like a small sign she decided not to read hung there, and above it was a small sign that read 'Morningstar Bar.' Beyond that, it was just a dull, average back alley, slimy brick building straight up to the roof.
"So what happens when I go inside is completely up to me…. I still don't understand." She stuffed the paper back into her jacket pocket and patted herself, checking her gear.
"Okay, knife, pouch, piano wire…" She came to a halt when she reached her stake. She never had liked it, but it seemed to carry an even deeper level of disgust and sorrow with it now. The thought of using it again to execute an 'enemy' made her stomach churn and raised her nervous anticipation. "Stake…"
She took a long, deep breath through her nose, exhaled through her mouth, and gripped her stake. Okay, little monster. It's just another hunt. She repeated to herself before bursting through the door.
A look of confusion immediately befell her upon entry into the bar. What the hell… The dimly lit, desolate space she had entered was almost the exact opposite of what she was expecting. The air was warm and stagnant but surprisingly clean and free of any dust. The faint scent of lavender also made its way to her from deep within.
The place was empty. She cautiously moved further into the bar. She ran her fingers over the wood of the circular tables, noting its well-maintained state, indicating that it was not abandoned. She checked under the tables, and the piano pressed against the wall. Then, she finally headed to the bar counter, which had a brighter light illuminating it.
She cautiously approached, instinctively pulling out her stake and hiding it beneath her jacket. Every step she took filled her with nervousness. If there was a vampire there, what would she do? Would she blindly jump in for the kill? Back off? Talk? What if the vampire was hostile? Most of them were, so if she was attacked, would she hesitate?
These thoughts were usually so far pushed down beneath the level that their surfacing now left a feeling of unease and discomfort. It would have been so easy to turn her brain off, but now, she couldn't do it even if she tried. She had changed somehow, but she didn't have the ability to determine why or how.
Her foot crunched on broken glass, causing her to jump in panic. She glanced over her shoulders, checking her surroundings to make sure she didn't alert any potential threats. Broken glass? She looked around the length of the counter to see a couple of broken glasses on the floor and a large red spot stained into the floorboards and bottom of the bar.
She took a deep breath and reached into her pouch for a couple of balls. I guess the smart thing to do would be to check… She lightly lobbed them over the counter and heard them break against the floor. She listened for any sounds of pain, but there was nothing.
Is there really no one here? She continued to move forward, side-stepping the glass on the floor. A clanking noise sounded from behind the bar, stopping her dead in her tracks behind the stools. Her chest pounded with every second that passed.
Ruth took a quick step back and hid her stake inside her jacket. She heard a faint groan and cough; then, someone rose from behind the bar. A man with skin somewhere between fair and pale, messy light-colored hair like it couldn't decide if it wanted to be more of a pale white or just blonde and gave up somewhere in the middle, and deep purple eyes.
He noticed Ruth standing there and stared in silence, his face exhausted. His eyes stared a hole into what felt like her soul; she didn't even know eyes could be purple.
She took another step back, assuming a defensive posture and tightening her grip on her stake. Nothing had been said or done yet, but this entire place felt off. Not a single opening to strike was obvious as she stared back at him. Any next move she simulated in her mind almost assuredly would result in her defeat.
The man rolled up his slightly wet sleeve with his other hand, then cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak. "Excuse me, may I help you?"
The simplicity of his genuine-sounding question threw her off balance. What should I do? I can't rush him with that counter between us. What happens here is up to me, right? Maybe I should play along for now and gather some information.
"It's a bit strange for a bar to be this empty when it's prime time for drinking, is it not?" Why did I say it like that? I sound like an old lady. I need to get a grip.
The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "Not particularly. It's usually fairly quiet in here. It's also quite difficult for a normal person to stumble upon this place." He nonchalantly responded.
Ruth felt the tension in the air increase. Was she probing him for information, or was he probing her? She should be the threat in this situation, yet she was being treated so normally. "I suppose that's true."
He scratched the back of his head and pointed toward the open door. "Even if that weren't the case, today is Monday, so we're closed. There's a sign right next to the door with our hours. Closed on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. The door was also locked, yet it seems you effortlessly made your way in; I didn't know Louis Cyr was a beautiful woman in Birmingham."
Ruth, taken aback by the embarrassment of being called out on breaking in and then being complimented, felt her face flush for a brief moment, then quickly regained her composure. The way he spoke and his demeanor were so opposite of what the situation called for that she couldn't take proper charge of it.
"Sorry, I didn't read the sign… I'll pay you for the damage to the lock if I get the opportunity." She determined it would be best to continue the conversation.
The man waved the words away. "You needn't worry about that. Everyone makes mistakes. That being said. For what reason did you seek out this place?"
Ruth felt her heartbeat in her ears. The correct words to swing the interaction in her favor weren't coming to her. "Excuse me?" she asked, for lack of a better reply.
"As I previously mentioned. This place is very hard for normal people to find. One would not stumble upon it accidentally; therefore, you must have known about it and come here with a purpose." He slid a glass over and started to wipe it down with a cloth.
Damn, he's good. I guess there's no point in playing coy now that I'm in this deep. Maybe giving some information up will cause him to falter.
"You're right. I did come here for a reason. I'm seeking a vampire named Michael who runs this bar. I assume that's you." She chose her words carefully, being sure to leave out any mention of hunting.
He looked up at her from the glass and set it back down on the table. Ruth felt a slight chill run down her spine as the door to the building slammed shut, closing her inside. "I see. You must be a vampire hunter, then. Well, I do go by the name Michael, and I am currently tending to this place. I have an employee who usually tends the bar when we are open, but she hasn't been showing up as of late. You hunting me makes sense; it's your job. But you knowing this place doesn't. You omitted that piece of information."
That didn't faze him at all! And now she was trapped. While she was trying to regain her composure yet again, Ruth felt something brush past her leg, causing her to snap back into reality.
She looked down and laid eyes on a gray cat walking around the bar. "A… cat?"
Michael slid the glass toward Ruth and beckoned her to sit at the bar. "Pay it no mind. Now, won't you take a seat and answer my question? If you're here, then you might as well have a seat."
Ruth steeled her resolve. I guess I don't have much of a choice but to play along and wait for my chance. This is going so horribly wrong it's laughable.
She hesitantly approached the bar and sat on the stool before the glass, still gripping her stake tightly in case of an attack. "Alright, since I don't have much of a choice, I'll tell you. I took a piece of paper from a member of the organization called the Unseen. That paper had this address on it; I later encountered another vampire who confirmed the address and your name."
"The Unseen… I see. That is unfortunate news. Since you're here and not them, I think it's safe to assume that that paper was the only lead they had and hasn't made it to the boss or anyone above whom you took it. Thank you for that, truly." He bowed his head in gratitude and pointed back toward the shelves of drinks behind him. "Now, what'll you have?"
Now he's… thanking me? Ruth pondered over his words for a moment. "What do you mean?"
"What would you like to drink? You're at a bar, aren't you? Free of charge, of course, since you have helped me out." He slid the glass on the counter back and forth between his hands. Awaiting her request.
"Did you forget that I'm a vampire-hunting monster and just broke into your place looking for you? Talking and having a drink isn't really what I came here for." She reasserted her stance in an attempt to regain some pull in the conversation.
"I'll overlook the breaking-in and the attempted murder just this once. Besides, what's wrong with chatting a bit? Isn't this a rare opportunity?" he said in a slightly amused tone.
This is bad. I can't keep up with this pace. I need time to think. I guess I could stall a bit. "I don't really drink. What do you recommend?"
He rubbed his chin with his fingers in thought. "Well, I have all your normal stuff: wine, beer, etc. Since winter is coming, we did just pre-make the ale for Ves Heill…"
"Sorry ves heill?" Ruth asked.
"Oh, apologies, you would know it as Wassail," he corrected himself.
Ruth mulled over the idea. "That's the one with the apples and the spices and stuff, right?"
Michael nodded. "That's the one. Do you want it?"
That would take more than a few seconds to prepare… "Could you do it with pomegranate juice instead of the apples?"
He thought for a second, then nodded his head. "I could. I have some juice lying around. Please give me a minute."
"Thanks…" Perfect, now what do I do? This situation is bad. I feel like I'm a sitting duck in here.
Michael turned around and started to prepare her drink. Ruth stared at his defenseless back, sensing the first real opportunity to strike if she wanted to. Now could be my only chance… but I don't have to kill him, right? Mrs. Mólafrey didn't order that. He's going to finish soon, and I need to make a decision. Killing him would be the simplest solution, and I've done it so many times up until now, so what's different here?
Still unsure, Ruth quietly and slowly stood from her stool and began to climb over the counter. She removed her stake from her jacket and raised it into the air. With one knee on the counter, she was about to lift up her other foot when a sharp, stinging pain radiated out from around her ankle. The pain caused her to see stars, and it took every ounce of willpower she could muster not to scream.
Ruth grimaced and bit her collar, trying to hold back any noise so as not to be found out. She snapped her head down toward her ankle to see the cat from earlier biting deep into it. Then sunk back down to the stool, heaving heavy, pained breaths, and removed the cat from her leg.
What is up with that cat? she thought as she stabbed her finger on her stake, intending to stop the bleeding by forcing her blood to clot around the wound.
Michael turned back around and placed the glass in front of Ruth. "Here you go, one spiced pomegranate wassail." He observed the stressed look on Ruth's face and raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright?"
Ruth forced a halfhearted smile. "Thank you. Everything is fine." Judging by the look on his face, I feel like he heard all of that noise.
She composed herself and looked down at the surprisingly appetizing-looking drink in front of her. "This actually looks pretty good." She reached for the glass but hesitated with a quick thought. "There isn't poison in this, is there?"
Michael stared at her with a slight scowl on his face. "No, but I can take it back and mix some in if you'd like."
Ruth rubbed her forehead. The energy she had regained by sleeping was slowly being sapped away. "So you're telling me that you do have poison here, yet there is none in this drink you're giving to me for free when I broke into your bar and may be trying to kill you."
He paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. "Do you want me to charge you for it?"
Ruth took a deep breath and rolled her eyes out of frustration. She could tell from the tone of his voice that that wasn't even a joke. "The drink being free isn't the issue here."
Damn, he keeps sucking me into his pace. I can't even prepare myself because I don't know if he's doing it on purpose.
He shrugged and turned to grab a book from the other end of the bar. "You don't have to drink it if you don't want to. I won't feel bad if you decide to leave it, trust me." He held up the bound black book. "Since I have you here, would you mind listening to an interesting short story?"
What is this guy talking about? Does he think I won't jump him anymore? Maybe this would be easier if he focused on telling the story.
"Sure, it's not like I have much of a choice anyway." She leaned back on the stool, getting ready to listen.
Michael smiled, put the book back down, and walked back to face Ruth. Wait, doesn't he need that?
"You may leave after. I won't pursue you," he said.
Ruth looked suspicious, hesitating to believe anything he said. She mindlessly sipped her drink, "Hey, that's pretty good…"
Michael nodded in satisfaction. "Isn't it? Rat poison has a distinct bitter flavor that adds a unique twist to any drink."
Ruth scowled and took another sip.
He clapped his hands together. "Let us begin the story, shall we?"
I'm getting a headache. Ruth remained silent and gestured for him to go ahead.
"Alright, so this story is about a boy who supports his sister even though he's contracted an incurable disease," he said in a cheerful tone.
Ruth frowned and stirred her drink. "That sounds pretty morbid."
"If you think so now, then just wait until the ending. I promise it's an interesting one." He gave a small smile.
"Alright, color me intrigued," Ruth replied in a slightly interested tone.
"Fantastic, feel free to interject at any time. So, picture a small town nestled within the Border Moors and Forests, a fair bit north of this city. It was a quiet place, mostly inhabited by farmers. In one of those families, there were two siblings, let's call them Steven and Kelly."
Ruth nodded along slightly, the hook piquing her interest.
Michael stared into Ruth's eyes as he talked, only enhancing the impact of his words. "Life wasn't easy for them; their living conditions were rough, and their bodies and minds were constantly worn from having to work the fields and tend to the animals every day. Their lives were set up for them the moment they were born. They'd live and die doing this work. There was no opportunity for anything else."
Ruth picked up her drink and began to swirl it around. "That sounds like an awful situation."
"Perhaps it was. But Steven saw a lot of potential in his sister. She was brilliant. He thought she might even be able to get into Bedford College despite their poor social standing. However, their situation didn't allow for that. Their parents were extremely rigid and tough. Anything that wasn't contributing to the village or their family was wrong. So, in order for her to have a chance, he needed to make one. He took on all of her work to give her more time to study from the few books they had. She'd run off during the day to the forest and study while he did all of the labor for them both."
Ruth pushed the drink forward, deciding not to take another sip. "That sounds like an amazing brother. Having someone take that load for you could make a big difference in your ability to do other things."
"Truly. But it wasn't enough, though. What good was any of it if she couldn't go to proper school? So, Steven devised a plan. He mustered up all of the confidence in his body and approached his parents one night, telling them that he wanted them to all move to the city so his sister could have her opportunity." Michael grabbed the drink and took a sip.
Ruth leaned in. Her interest in the story increased as Michael went on. She was beginning to forget about why she was there in the first place instead of being a hunter on a mission. "So, what happens next?"
Michael smiled. "As you can imagine. His parents did not take that very well. He was beaten black and blue for bringing up what they considered to be a beyond absurd idea, and then they took away all of Kelly's books, trying to stomp out the embers before they grew too hot."
Ruth scrunched her face. "Really? That's awful. They just wanted to live their lives their own way."
"Even though he was defeated, he wasn't just going to give up. He was determined to ensure that his sister would have a bright future. He knew he was worthless, but he thought no one should be shackled down the way they were. So, he began skimming some money from the sales of their crops and stashing it away, trying to save enough to afford two railway tickets."
Ruth, now fully engrossed in the story, allowed herself to loosen up slightly, pushing aside her plan of looking for an opening to strike. "So, did they leave? Where did they go?"
Michael chuckled. "I'm getting there. Patience, Ms. Hunter. Finally, after months of doing this, Steven had enough saved up and finally told his sister about it. She was reluctant at first, not wanting to anger her parents further, but quickly realized that it was their best chance at having a better life. So, that night, while their parents were sleeping, they left a letter on their kitchen table and snuck out to catch the train to this city."
Ruth's mouth fell open in surprise. "Wait, they came here?"
Michael nodded his head. "Yes, they did. After arriving, Steven got a job doing some well-paid manual labor overnight so they could afford a place to stay and books for his sister. He wasn't thrilled about having a job similar to what he did back at home, but he was happy as long as they could make their way."
Ruth smiled gently. "Well, that's amazing. I am happy they were able to make it out of that situation."
Michael changed his face to be more serious. "Unfortunately, they made it out of their bad living situation only to be thrust into more unfavorable circumstances. Shortly after they were settled, Steven contracted the disease. It was a very cruel twist of fate for someone so selfless."
Ruth was taken aback by the twist, even though she knew it was coming. "I had forgotten that was the hook. That's heartbreaking. There really weren't any ways to treat what he had…?"
Michael shook his head. "Shortly after becoming afflicted, Steven learned that there was no cure. There was a way to treat him and extend his life. But that treatment came at an extraordinarily high price. One he was not willing to pay, no matter the consequences. So, holding true to his convictions, he decided to forgo the treatment and continue working with his now limited time to ensure that his sister was set up for success after he was gone."
"He even sacrificed his only chance of survival for her? What a truly remarkable man," Ruth remarked.
Michael smiled and grabbed Ruth's glass. "I can confirm that sentiment. Because soon after making that decision, he found his way here."
Ruth's eyes widened again in shock. "You mean to tell me he was here? You met him? This is a true story?"
He dumped Ruth's drink out in the sink and continued. "Indeed, it is. I did meet him. He told me his story, as I have just told you. It was deeply moving. I could see with my own eyes the toll that everything had taken on him physically and mentally by that point, so I offered him some aid."
"What aid?" Ruth asked. "Why?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I would have to be a monster to feel nothing for the siblings. Over the year that followed that initial meeting, both of them came here very frequently. During that time, both his sister and I were witnesses to how much he was suffering. He eventually became unable to work and had to quit."
"What happened next." Ruth insisted he continue.
"Well, the last time we met was not that long ago, actually. Both his sister and I urged him to consider the treatment. To cling on to life just a little bit longer. But still, he refused. With the money he had saved from his job, combined with what little I was able to spare, he was finally satisfied with what he would be able to leave behind should he die. His will to continue living was almost gone. The only thing keeping him holding on was his mission to make sure his sister would be able to have a good life. Which, at that point, he had fulfilled to the best of his ability." Michael grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter.
Ruth rested her head on her hand. "He still refused even after all of that?"
Michael put the rag down and turned his attention toward Ruth once more. "Yes, his strength of will was beyond admirable. Before he left that night, he told me he didn't have much time left and would consider the option of extending his life. I knew he was lying, of course, but still, I couldn't say anything to a man that resolute about something. So, I wished them well, and they were on their way."
Michael stopped talking and began cleaning Ruth's now empty glass.
Confused. Ruth paused for a moment. She was processing that he had finished speaking. "Wait, why'd you stop? I want to hear the rest of the story. What happened to him? What happened to her?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I stopped because there was nothing more for me to tell. I don't know exactly what comes next."
For the first time in a while, Ruth felt genuinely irritated at someone who wasn't trying to help her like Lenora. "What? You have to know. You even told me to wait for the ending and that it was interesting. At least make something up to give me closure."
Michael narrowed his eyes as he met her gaze. "There's no need for me to make up an ending to this story for you because you already know it, do you not?"
Ruth pulled back slightly with a mix of confusion and surprise. "Excuse me?"
Michael's expression changed, trading the tired, friendly face in for a more serious one. "I'm quite certain that you are the only person who knows the proper conclusion to this story. And I actually would love to know it. So tell me… Is he dead?"
Ruth's face contorted as the color began to leave her already pale white skin. She felt her blood run cold, and her throat began to close up as an image of the vampire she killed a few nights ago filled her head.
"Huh?" She managed to squeak out.
Michael began to make his way around the counter to close the distance between him and Ruth. "I apologize; let me be more precise. What I'm asking you is . . . did you kill him? After all, you ran into him at some point recently, right? I can smell his scent on you."
Ruth's face turned into one of anguish. The feelings she thought she had left behind a few nights ago resurfaced. Did he know the whole time I was here? From the smell? Just how crazy is his sense of smell?
Ruth tried to stand up to run; however, she found herself still sitting on the bar stool, unable to move. She felt a large boom similar to a dam bursting in her head and started shaking. I can't move… I can't speak… this isn't even close to as bad as the other night, though, so why? Why do I feel like I'm crumbling?
She gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth. Her stomach churned, and a thick sludge quickly climbed up her throat. The attempt at holding back her vomit had failed. She ejected the contents of her stomach and fell to the floor.
Her vision slowly faded to black, and she saw Michael standing over her as she began to slip into unconsciousness. He's right there… I'm going to die at the hands of a vampire? After everything? I'm sorry, I couldn't muster the strength to let go… It's over… I'm dead.
As her eyes closed, memories of her past flashed in her mind, a film she had no intention of watching again.