Back in his days walking shoulder-to-shoulder with the Cappers, the department kept me off the radar—afraid that if They found out about me, I'd get wiped off the map. Though honestly, the real reason was probably more embarrassing: the force just didn't want to admit that one single girl could do more than their entire task force.
I finished whatever you'd call this—lunch? Dinner? Breakfast for the damned?—and stood from the bar with a boost of fake confidence.
-There's no horde of monsters beyond the Sure, there are the occasional creeps, but I can handle those. So yeah. I'm bouncing. Bye, Phoenix. And please—rise from the ashes in a bar that doesn't suck.— Couldn't help it. That joke was older than the first jukebox. Wait—I'm coming with you,— Phoenix said, then added sheepishly: —
-Just let me wrap up here and say goodbye to this place. I mean, sure, it's boring and quiet as hell, but 'Blackout' saved me from the Obscurity and helped me put that lamia down.
Now he was talking about this stinking bar like it was some celestial guardian. When did we start referring to dive bars like holy knights with flaming swords?
I just need to grab my things and hope someone will take over tending the bar. Try posting on a job board, — I said with a straight Hey, that's not a bad idea! Although… not sure I'll get applicants in a place like this. .. just go get your stuff, — I groaned, rubbing my temples. He was back in five minutes, lugging a large duffle bag and nodding. We can But first—I want to say goodbye to this place. Knock yourself
Honestly, I was wiped from everything that had happened, and my friends were still missing. Well, yeah. Hard to chit-chat after you roast them alive. Nervous jokes. I make them now. But one thought still gnawed at me: how the hell did Phoenix, stuck here for thirty years, still look like a damn fitness model?
While I spiraled in thought, Phoenix wandered over to the jukebox and started flipping through songs for the Big Emotional Goodbye.
Hmm… no, Dua Lipa won't Something from the '90s? Nah. Maybe… Bee Gees? Are you always this insufferable?
He grinned and picked a track. But the silence in the bar rejected the melody. Apart from our voices, not a single note could be heard. Phoenix's face dropped.
Weird… it used to always Let's just move.
And then the lights went out in my eyes.
The bar plunged into total darkness. Phoenix shouted:
Alenari! Something smashed or shut off the lamps! That means They'll
make their move… No shit.
Right after his shout, all hell broke loose. The room exploded in bursts of color like a deranged rave for epileptics. At first, I thought it was just lights. But no—it was the ghosts. The once-peaceful patrons, now glowing like phantoms, rose from their seats.
No more card games. Now it was rapiers, estocs, and other blades of frozen
spectral energy in their hands, gliding straight toward me. So much for your friendly clientele, huh, Phoenix?
Apparently, I said that out loud, because he responded with actual sadness
in his voice:
It's hard to make real friends around here… Well, duh.
The ghosts kept advancing, their weapons glinting with promises of pain and unpleasantries. I was about to dive into my fog-state, prep some mind- moves and tear into these ectoplasmic bastards—when two things stopped me cold.
The jukebox wheezed and rattled, coughed up a lungful of gray smoke— and started blasting a soundtrack for the showdown.
Maybe not the ideal track, but hey—subjective taste and all that.
That cold black cloud is comin' down. Feels like I'm knockin' on Heaven's door.
Bob Dylan was singing his haunting ballad, and I could feel my arms swelling with impossible power. With the help of the mind move Morning in Wyoming, I turned my limbs into long arcana and started spinning them over my head. From the elbows down, my arms became -boas- — ready to ruin anyone who dared mess with my honor.
I think I mentioned two events? So, the second one happened when the ex-bartender rummaged through his pack and pulled out a short sword with a curved guard and a thick blood groove, then poured some liquid over the blade — and it burst into flames! The sword, I mean. Not the bartender.
Holy crap! Could that thought about a flaming-sword-wielding angel actually be spot on?
Phoenix leapt across the room in two jumps and started demonstrating the finest customer service the bar had to offer, swinging his sword like a lunatic.
Let's make a mess, Ali! — That familiar, beloved voice of Antwan shouted inside my head, and for a second, I forgot all about the chaos erupting around me. You're here!