Chapter 57

The Pack

The name of the bar was No Man’s Land.

The building sat on a small patch of land that did not fall within any Pack lines. It had been that way for generations, as far back as one could track.

There were myths about the land being haunted.

It once belonged to a witch who built barriers against the wolves.

It once was the seat of a stubborn King, who watched his kingdom shrink around him while he refused to parley with conquering tribes.

It once held a gallows, and nothing else.

Now, it was a pub and restaurant. Or at least that is what the sign says, though not many have an appetite when they get inside.

The decor was just specific enough to evoke local culture, but otherwise the room faded at the edges. It was a place to meet a friend or an enemy, to stand out or to become a blur in a corner.

Maybe it was implied in the name, but there was a certain anonymity of the patrons at No Man’s Land. Names were not hidden, but unless you really tried it could be hard to remember that of a stranger you’d just met.

And if you came to share secrets, those were bound securely into the walls.

Maybe the place did have a little magic.

A young man sits at the bar. He has been there for nearly fifteen minutes. He is ordering his second drink.

“You in a rush?”

The bartender takes in the fidgety man on the stool. She’s seen it all, knows the scientific term for every type of barfly that wanders in from out there.

“No,” the young man answered, head still turned toward the front door. “I’m waiting for someone.”

He took an absent-minded gulp from his drink, a rum and coke, and then placed the glass down a little too hard on the surface of the bar. He jumped, looked down to adjust his glass and said something vicious under his breath. He turned back to look at the door.

“Traffic,” was all the bartender said in response. She was not in the mood to deal with whatever toxic or aggressive behavior this creep was going to bring.

She made a mental note to stop serving him if he seemed to be heading on a bender. Cleaning up after a belligerent drunk was totally above her pay grade.

The front door swung open, and someone entered the small vestibule where there was still a payphone next to an ATM. A set of old-timey saloon doors led into the main room of the bar, which made perfect sense for this type of place.

This time the bartender and some other patrons looked up at the new addition to tonight’s mix.

“Lucian, damnit,” the bartender said, walking towards the front end of the bar. “Did you come to pay your tab?”

Lucian sauntered up to her, leaning his elbows onto the surface in between them.

“I just might, Beatrice,” he said smoothly, taking her hands in his and tenting them in prayer together. “If the gods are good and my step-father doesn’t cut me off!”

His voice was jovial as he said this loud for more than her to hear, and he pouted his lips at the head of the establishment.

“You’re such a wimp,” Beatrice said.

She rescued her hands from his and gave him a playful slap on the hand, then walked back to her business.

Lucian watched her walk away, then down the L-shaped bar. The nervous young man was staring at him and gave an awkward wave as an invitation to join him.

Lifting his head in a nod of acceptance, Lucian walked around the corner of the bar and took the stool next to Ward.

“Hey, glad you made it,” Ward said quickly. “Traffic?”

“Not really,” Lucian said. “it all takes the time it takes, you know?”

“Sure, sure,” Ward said, unsure. “Well, thanks for inviting me. It’s been a rough time lately, obviously, so it’s good to have a distraction.”

“Yeah, definitely not a great time all around,” Lucian replied, “for a lot of people.”

“I mean with the attack on my Pack, and your mom trying to murder people,” Ward went on, “it’s a lot.”

Lucian eyed the man next to him. Ward was tall and strong, but still lanky and ungrounded. One leg seemed to be constantly bouncing on the leg of his stool, as if he was always in fight-or-flight mode. Or maybe he was on drugs.

“My sister was asking for you,” Lucian said after a moment. “I spoke with her this morning.”

“Oh, right, how is she?” Ward asked, his face reddening as he realized he didn’t mention her before.

“Not great, given the circumstances, she’s lonely,” Lucian said with a pointed look at Ward. “She feels like she made a stupid mistake and everyone abandoned her immediately because of it.”

“I didn’t abandon her!” Ward said a little too loudly. He brought himself back down. “It’s been crazy, you know, I took to my house and they found her and I didn’t even really know what she was doing but they all still think I helped her and I didn’t and luckily they have no proof—“

“It’s okay, Ward,” Lucian said, placing his hand on Ward’s arm to calm him. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad. Tessa is okay, for now. I think she’ll be treated better than most would be in her position, because of the baby.”

“The baby,” Ward reported, his eyes going wide and his mouth drooping open. He placed his elbows on the bar and his head in his hands.

“At least they are letting her keep her medical team,” Lucian said, a sly twist in his voice. “She is so lucky to have Mira. Such a gifted doctor, and beautiful too.”

Ward’s head shot up at her name, and Lucian was staring back at him.

“How is Mira?” Ward asked in a desperate voice.

“On the rise, it would seem. And I have to admit it, she will really make an excellent Luna, don’t you think?”

“Of course, I’ve always known that about Mira,” Ward said defensively. “I’ve known her for years, I know her better than anyone. I know things about Mira that no one else knows!”

Lucian smiled his vulpine smile and patted Ward on the back.

“Is that so?”

The two young men spend the next hour discussing Mira: her past, her work, her passions, her secrets.

Ward tells Lucian everything he knows.