8 Chapter 8: The Bartender

On the way to the Muddy Moose, Heldon noticed a few things. One was that despite the fact that the bottom of Shrai’s yellow dress was in tatters, it was made from quality fabric. Judging from the apron, she probably worked on one of the aristocratic estates up north.

Another thing he noticed was all the eyes tracking them down the main street like they were some sort of parade. Until the recent attacks, werewolves frequently did business in Kalent, so that couldn’t be why people gawked at them.

It didn’t take a scholar to put together that it was Tival who baffled the townspeople.

Heldon understood when he first met Tival his instincts and feelings spun in all directions like a broken compass. Well, they still did, but at least he knew what Tival was.

Or did he?

He’d never heard of a half-vampire half-dryad. Sure, there were dhampirs here and there, but those were half-human.

Heldon didn’t even think there was a term for something as powerful and enigmatic as Tival. Despite his allergy to metals, he could take on a fully transformed alpha male werewolf in daylight with nothing but a stone and wooden spear.

He doubted that anything could overpower him, even with a steel sword.

Heldon didn’t realize how lost in thought he was until they abruptly stopped beneath a sign with two lacquered Moose antlers.

“Ah, just what I expected,” Tival announced, grinning. Heldon’s mind flashed with a memory. Oh, he had been here before, and he had avoided it ever since. It wasn’t because of the fight, or the stale ale they kept, but because of the high-stake card games and the owner –Garrett.

“I know Garrett, the owner. He’s kinda sleazy but doesn’t care that we aren't human.” Shrai reassured Tival and opened the decorative wooden door. It didn’t reassure Heldon.

Heldon hid behind Tival as they entered the busy and hazy tavern. The cacophony of tables of people, drinking, eating, playing instruments, and playing cards blared to life loudly, and Heldon had kind of missed it.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about being overheard here, let's go to the corner.” Shrai’s ears were pinned against her head and folded in, blocking out some of the noise. Heldon spotted Garrett behind the bar and scooted behind Tival to hide.

“Are you nervous?” Tival asked, speaking to Heldon for the first time since they left. He and Shrai had hit it off talking and Heldon sort of spaced out.

“Yes, but not for the reason you might think,” Heldon replied.

“Is it a specific person?” Tival’s eyes sparked bright and sharp, scanning the crowd. He even went so far as to straighten his posture into a more protective stance. While Heldon understood Tival’s gesture, the last thing he wanted was attention.

And attention was one thing Tival naturally demanded.

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it if something comes up.” Heldon sat down at their table, which was next to the card table. He scrutinized the card players, looking at their ticks and twitches.

The guy in leather should’ve bet more, and the guy with the eyepatch should’ve folded.

“We’ll handle it,” Tival corrected, fangs flashing. Heldon didn’t want to even imagine the kind of damage Tival could do at night in a tavern.

Shrai smiled at Garrett and waved three fingers.

“Ok, so. I’m Shrai and I’m the chief maidservant at Waltham Estate, and one moon ago, everything went wild.” Shrai started without missing a beat.

So, Heldon was right.

“Really, the Waltham Estate? That's one of the top four werewolf estates on the continent. What happened?” Tival asked, his hazel eyes glowing in interest. Heldon knew why, the sooner they figured out the werewolf problem, the sooner Tival could go back home.

“Yeah, the Walthams regularly host the enormous Spring Equinox gala which was last month. All the important, hoity-toity types from across the continent were there. It took me four hours to style Danica for it.” Shrai said as the harried barmaid slapped three pints on the table.

“Who’s Danica?” Tival asked and Shrai blinked, nearly spitting her beer.

“Uh, she’s a werewolf…doesn’t matter. Anyway, during the gala, while I was up on the castle roof, werewolves started shredding their lavish gowns and suits, transforming on a new moon.” Shrai took a big swig of her beer.

“These are werewolves who wouldn’t wear last season’s fashion lest they stand out, and they’re transforming on the one night that's the ultimate taboo, at a Gala no less. They start going…” Shrai lowered her voice to a whisper, “rabid.”

Not even the king could accuse a werewolf of being rabid without serious evidence.

But this news caused Heldon to fade away. What if what caused the werewolves to go feral was outside the city?

Then Heldon couldn’t go.

He was a negotiator, not a knight.

“What caused it?” Tival leaned toward Shrai, and it was then Heldon’s chest snagged, barbed with anxiety. Tival would be partners with Shrai, not him.

“I don’t know for sure, but I smelled a floral scent I had never had before. It was all over the estate, so it must have something to do with it. I also swear I saw a weird light in the woods. They all scattered, and I followed some here.” Shrai continued.

He’d remember all of this and send it in a memo to the king. Kalent would send some knights, maybe even his best friend and Tival and Shrai would lead the way. He’d be stuck at home with his brother like Opalgate never happened.

“So, you think we should go to Waltham and investigate,” Tival suggested, taking a sip of his beer.

Shrai nodded, but before she could say anything Heldon’s gaze caught the owner’s.

Blast.

“You! You have a lot of nerve showing your face here!” Garrett charged toward them. Tival was on his feet in an instant.

“You’re making a scene,” Heldon sighed.

“Only because you cheated! Your magic made me do those things!” Garrett’s green eyes flashed in anger as he slammed his fist down on the table. Heldon knew from experience it was both a tantrum and a tell.

The card table next to them plunged into silence.

Heldon grit his teeth at the insult. People could accuse him of a lot of things, but being a cheater wasn’t one of them. His family’s reputation would be tarnished even further beyond his own failures at negotiating.

“I. don’t. cheat.” Heldon’s voice cracked like a whip over each word.

“Prove it, or I’ll go get my things from your manor by force.” Garrett sat down at the empty seat of the card table.

Heldon may be a lackluster negotiator and a mediocre swordsman, but he was an exceptional card player. When he taunted that vampire, he wasn’t lying.

The last time he came here, he won five bottles of priceless whiskey, two tapestries, and a horse from the attractive, but shady owner.

Heldon couldn’t give the horse back because winning it was the only thing his younger brother admired him for. Erik even named the horse, Blaze.

Also, it just struck him this sounded like a lover’s spat.

“Fine, one hand.” Heldon sat down across from Garrett.

“Oh, my moons, cards! I was hoping it was juicier.” Shrai pouted, downing more beer.

“I would’ve never guessed you were a card shark, Negotiator.” Tival’s voice rippled like velvet and his hazel eyes glinted in the candlelight.

Was Tival relieved?

“This is to keep the game fair.” He put in the center of the table a magic detection amulet. It would glow if any magic was used near it. Heldon shrugged, and Garrett wasted no time shuffling and dealing the cards.

Heldon peeked at his cards.

“I bet these.” Heldon took off his earrings again and tossed them on the table. Tival curled over Heldon, enraptured. His protectiveness radiated onto Heldon’s back like a fireplace.

“I call.” Garrett took off his emerald ring and tossed it into the pot. Garrett didn’t twitch and his fist was over his mouth. He had good cards.

The next three cards came: queen, nine, two.

“I bet this.” Heldon unbuckled his saber and put it on the card table with a rattling clank.

The corner of Garrett’s mouth hooked up in a smile.

“I bet my shield that’s hanging up behind the bar.” Garrett jutted his chin. A barmaid scampered off to retrieve it and placed it on the card table with a heavy clang.

Heldon wanted that shield.

The next card came: a ten.

“If you’re trying to get a straight, all you need is the jack with a king or an eight, but I don’t think you have any of them.” Garrett’s grin was all teeth.

People by now had crowded around them.

“I bet…” Heldon was running out of things to bet with. “Blaze, the stallion you lost earlier.” Heldon dug into his pocket, finding the key to the stables, and placed it on the shield with a jingle.

“I call with my other horse, a mare.” Garrett put the key to his own stables on the table.

The last card: a second nine.

Heldon’s stomach flipped upside down. A flash of Ryce’s laughter echoed in his head.

“Oh, what a shame. No jack, no king, no eight. I think you have nothing.” Garrett boasted and leered at him, like a cat cornering a bird.

“I bet my free labor for one month.” Heldon bet something he knew Garrett couldn’t resist. The tavern needed the help, and Heldon wasn’t born yesterday.

The reason the bar needed more staff, and the only reason Garrett played cards with him in the first place was because he ran his hands through Heldon’s hair and said it smelled nice.

It’s why Heldon took him for everything he had.

“Negotiator!” Tival interjected; his eyes flashing pink. Heldon’s back frosted over from the temperature dropping ten degrees.

Garrett glanced up at Tival then back down to Heldon, zeroing in on his neck. The bruises.

“I think your handler is angry because you're bluffing,” Garrett smirked. “I call with you and whoever you bring in here drinks for free, for life,” Garrett smirked and Tival’s grip splintered the back of his chair. Handlers and feeders, Heldon knew how it looked between him and Tival, and didn’t care.

“See, you don’t have the king and the jack. I do. I win, straight.” Garrett flipped over his cards, arms already encircling everything in the pot. You could hear a pin drop in the tavern.

Heldon had already known that. Before, his stomach had corkscrewed itself into a knot because he and Ryce had the same cards – ‘full house, nines over ladies' Ryce had bragged viciously.

Heldon flipped his cards over – the queen and nine of hearts.

“Whoa. full house beats your straight, Garrett.” Shrai whistled, brown eyes like plates.

“You’ve got to be joking!” Garrett threw the mug of beer across the tavern.

“I’m not joking about a free round for everyone here,” Heldon smirked, pointing to the dim magic amulet, and collected it along with both sets of keys, the ring, and his saber.

He couldn’t believe he won a shield!

Tival reached over him, collecting his earrings.

“Let’s celebrate, negotiator.” Tival’s smile was a soft feather, but his hand held out a glass of whiskey. Tival didn’t know that one side effect of his magic was having a low tolerance for poisons, which included alcohol.

So, when Heldon drank the whiskey, and another, and the other beer he had neglected, it shouldn’t have surprised him that the rest of the night was a gaussian blur.

And it really shouldn’t have shocked Heldon when he woke up next to Tival.