Chapter 1

Thin veiled curtains whooshed, swaying to the beat inside the club. The pavement right outside covered by plethora of bodies, in tight mufflers and trench coats; shielding their warmth from bone deep cold. Once inside, the modest protection clothes shed like snake skin to reveal ardently doned revealing silk dresses and tight tuxes. It was a week before Halloween, and instead of preparing for it, Right Vices, lone club in this area blared busy. 

Inside, the cold didn't stand a chance. People merged into each other over the canvas of disco lights, no one could walk a safe distance without tripping over on the dance floor. The bar on the far left side stood relatively peaceful, plagued by mostly customers who couldn’t separate alcohol from their blood, now that it was 1 a.m. and they had piss-drunk themselves.

Vanessa, clad in barmaid attire stared at the black wall with a wolf bane painted in shimerring gold over it. The paint always smelled fresh to her. Her back to the unsolicited circus with bunch of drunks performing tricks, she reckoned herself a pounding headache if the disco ball glared one of its light on her eyes one more time. Her short height made it easy for her to go unnoticed. The bar was full with staff, it was Saturday night and she could cut her shift short, go home and take a nap.

But the night had different plans for her. A slurry voice, “Miss. Hey Miss. I asked you for a drink earlier, you ran away.” Well, to be fair, all alcohol induced voices were slurry. She knew  who it’d be before she even turned around. The man in question was older than her, but not too old. Maybe late 30s to her twenty three. This was the third time he had asked her to pour his drink. She could sense he was a wolf, a member of the pack she, or anyone aware of this species knew. But she especially because she was under their protection. She better oblige before he decisively creates a scene.

Slightly adjusting the black thin bow on her neck, part of her black and white uniform, she mustered a tired smile and turned around.

“What can I get you, sir?” Vanessa was polite by nature, but not gullible enough to think niceties always worked. They weren’t working now. Because the man didn’t smile back, she wasn’t alarmed because he forgot his manners. She worried her lower lip, as he was frowning and mumbling incoherently. From all the varieties inebriation provided in clowns, these were the worst. They appeared so helpless, one might take pity on them only to find out they were senile. This man looked entitled, spoilt, and right now, very irritable. Before she could ask someone else, maybe Ferda, to take over; he pushed his wine glass to her.

Who drank scotch in a wine glass anyway? Maybe his senses weren’t attuned to finer taste. She imagined a snicker. He looked in no condition to answer her inquiries about his order so she simply picked up the glass and sniffed it from a distance. Her wolf senses, agility, aided in her jobs more times than she could count. Every alcohol had a different smell and texture to it. If one could co-align the two, a smell gave way to imaginary texture. So far, her confidence in her skills had served just fine.

His glass had two ice cubes ready to melt despite the contradictory temperature outside. The heat from his hands must’ve done it then. Her senses caught a cocktail of cognac, tequila and a dash of lime. Definitely heavy stuff.

She bent down to rummage for some crushed ice and prepared his drink in a matter of minutes.

“There you go, sir. Enjoy.” He didn’t respond, not that she expected one. But he smirked. It was downright lewd, chagrin enough for her to leave soon as his attention diverted, which would happen quickly. And it did. Heaving a relieved sigh, she made a quick trip to the bathroom, leaving her belt right where she was standing. Belts were not allowed in bathrooms, that applied to customers and staff both. The reasons would be intriguing, she thought.

Running a hand through the front of her black mini-length skirt, smoothing out wrinkles, she strolled back to carry on with her shift. In her own world, worn out by the day, she failed to notice commotion near the bar until she was standing on the nose of it. Its significance mounted when the bouncer, Tembroke, a big burly dude with arms that appeared stuffed full of animal meat swiped everyone aside until he was on the other side of the bar. His swiping and crowd cleaning gave Vanessa a clear picture of what had transpired.

The man she had just served a drink to lay haggardly in a pool of his own vomit. Moments away from unconsciousness. If it were a human, they’d have to pay a visit to an ER. However, this man laid himself headfirst on three adjacent bar stools. He would be okay, she thought. She prayed for him to be alright. This was a clear case of poisoning, if not lethal, then illegal. Whoever did this would be punished severely. Their bar had a reputation to uphold. They didn’t do illegal drugs or drink. This man would become a living embodiment to libel this bar. Her hands shook slightly when she put her belt back on.

Just five more minutes and freedom awaited her. Freedom for the night. She was scribbling the song lyrics on her waitress notepad. They, her workplace, won’t mind a few missing notepads now, would they? She needed a distraction from the unfortunate turn of events and how her old and weary kitten heels were killing her feet.

“Vanessa Flynn. Please report to the back office.” An intercom placed right under their noses, so it’d be easier to call staff members in, buzzed out a single instruction to her. It was for the staff ears only. The few people working aside her cast a glance her way.