Chương 21: Chapter 20 – A Stiff Drink – Part 2

Bracken choked on his drink. He wheezed, smacking his chest as the burning liquor went down the wrong way.

"Excuse me?"

"Got the same eyes, same jaw. It's quite a handsome look, actually," the woman leaned with her back against the bar, face turned towards him. Red hair and a heart-shaped face, she was in her early twenties. Not that much older than Bracken. Not really. And yet beside her he felt like a child who had wandered into somewhere children were not meant to roam. Palms sweating, tongue clumsy, he took another sip of his drink and tried, and no doubt mostly failed, to look casual.

"How do you know my brother?" The woman tilted her head and looked at him with eyebrows raised, waiting for Bracken to answer that question on his own. Oh. Understanding dawned on his face and she laughed.

"He, umm, comes here often, then?" Bracken fumbled for words, all the while searching the room for Sable. Bad enough that he'd been recognised already, the pair of them needed to get the job done and get out before things went any further off script.

"Not often," the woman shrugged, "but we don't get many visitors from the hill down here. Always seems like a special occasion when we do. I'm Saoirse, by the way." She offered him her hand, palm down.

"Pleasure." He took her hand, unsure if he was meant to shake it or kiss it. He gave it an awkward squeeze and wiped sweaty palms against his pants.

"And you must be the youngest brother, which would make you Bracken," she said. If she thought him rude for not introducing himself, she didn't show it, her voice warm and friendly. Sable's words came back to him. Of course she seemed friendly. Bracken glanced at her sideways and nodded, wondering if he shouldn't be trying to lie instead.

"He talks about me? Here?"

"Men talk a lot when they're happy. They come here to be happy." He finally spotted Sable, emerging from the kitchen door behind the bar and carrying with her two steaming bowls of stew. She kept her calm better than he had so far, her eyes brushing right past him without a flicker of recognition as she made a beeline for a nearby table and served the meals.

"She's not for hire," Saoirse said, misinterpreting his attention. Bracken looked away, reminding himself not to stare. He nodded and drummed his fingers against his glass, searching for a polite way to ask Saoirse to leave. Sable did a lap of the room with a jug of spirits, collecting payment and topping off glasses. All around the bar, girls sat in laps or at tables, laughing and drinking with the men.

They seemed relaxed enough, flirting and having fun, but as he watched, he realised that they were all quietly on guard. Their eyes darted towards the stairs whenever a girl took someone up or came back down. A handful roamed the room, orbiting tables and brushing hands across shoulders, subtly checking in, feeling the pulse of the crowd. Armed security watched from the shadowed corners of the room.

He got the sense that while the guests were welcome to rip one another apart, there would be swift reprisal for anyone getting violent with the staff. Sable circled Cinder's table, looking for a chance to approach. The mugs were still full, the conversation intense, and though one or two of the goons glanced her way, none dared to ignore Cinder while he spoke.

"That's the thing about Forging, see, it's dangerous. Got to be patient with it. Most Stained, they don't do that. They get stupid, yeah? End up killing themselves or going Hollow. S'the only reason I've been a Caller so long. Took my time with it. Most of these idiots, never gonna make it past Forged. Can't go further because their souls are all banged up or they're halfway Plane mad. Not me. Be a fuckin' Harbinger in a couple years, I will." Cinder hunched over the table, lecturing the glassy eyed pack of drunks.

They all nodded appropriately, as if the words meant a damn thing to Unmarked and Cinder was a credible authority on anything other than arson and racketeering.

"So, what brings a scion of the hill down to our lonely corner of the Gutters? Reckon they must have whiskey up there, so you're not just here to drink," Saoirse moved a little closer. She reached past him to grab a jug from the bar, brushing against his shoulder as she topped off her wine.

"Heard the music was good," Bracken mumbled, still trying to follow Cinder's conversation in case the bastard really did know something worth hearing about Stains.

"Reckon they've probably got good music up the hill as well," Saoirse sipped her drink. She'd gotten close enough that their shoulders were touching.

"Usually, when one of your sort comes down here, it's not so much about what we have on offer. It's about enjoying yourself without the people up there seeing it. Is that why you're here, Bracken?" The bar was still loud, but she whispered the last question in his ear. Bracken downed the rest of his drink and shifted uncomfortably. Saoirse laughed and refilled his glass with wine. He startled, reaching for the last copper in his pocket.

She stayed his hand with her own and winked, clinking her mug against his glass. Nearby, Sable was growing impatient. Hands reached out wherever she passed to cup, pat, pinch, or squeeze no matter how often she slapped them away. She stood straight, shoulders back, and kept the smile on her face, but Bracken could see an edge creeping into it, sharp as broken glass.

"Play your cards right boys, and maybe I'll have work for you. Won't be slumming it out here much longer. Be an invite in our future, for Pike and me, for a seat at the table downstairs," Cinder leaned back in his chair and threaded his fingers together over his belly, surveying his entourage to see if they were suitably impressed. He elbowed Pike.

"Best you finish your drink and we be off soon, though. Won't be Forging nothing but a hangover if we piss about here all night." Sable ran out of patience and caution both. A hand reached out to smack her on the arse from the next table over. She slapped it away and took a quick step towards Cinder's table, tripping as she went. She fell over Pike, splashing wine across the table and knocking over mugs. There came a cheer and a laugh from around the table, though Cinder shoved his chair back and scowled.

One of the men pulled Sable into his lap as she tried to stand, laughing as she wriggled from his grip.

"Sorry, sorry!" Sable apologised, picking up the rag that she'd dropped and quickly mopping up as much of the spilled wine as she could before gathering the mugs. A few of the other girls looked over in well-masked concern and the mountainous bartender grew still. Sable scurried over to the bar, still studiously ignoring Bracken as Saoirse stood and snatched up a clean rag, fussing over Sable and dabbing wine from her dress.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Sorry," Sable gasped to the bartender, shoving empty mugs across the counter. She flashed a tight smile at Saoirse and said, "Thank you."

"Don't worry yourself, sweetness. Least the dress is red, won't hardly see the stains," Saoirse patted her on the arm. When the red head stepped back, she placed herself between Bracken's legs, her back pressed to his chest. Sable finally glanced straight at him as Saoirse pulled his arms around herself. Sable flared her eyebrows and looked away, accepting a fresh jug and set of mugs from the bartender.

Sable hurried back to the table, apologising again though the men only laughed and whistled, none but Cinder annoyed by the mess. They parted, a pack of wolves welcoming a sheep into their midst as she set about refilling their drinks. This was her chance, but there was too much attention on her. She couldn't fish the poison from her pocket, much less pour it into a mug without being noticed as things stood. She needed a distraction.

"You didn't answer my question, handsome," Saoirse looked at him over her shoulder. Bracken made a split-second decision. He dropped his tumbler and hoped it wasn't as expensive as he feared. It shattered with the unmistakable tinkle of too much money being pissed away to pay for a single second's distraction. Nearby, people turned at the noise, including a few faces from around Cinder's table.

Another handful of voices cheered his drunken fumble as Bracken pushed Saoirse away and scrambled to clean up the broken glass.

"Shit, I am so sorry!" He spluttered, his panic entirely genuine. In the corner of his eye, he saw Sable's hand reach for her pocket.

"Don't worry, happens all the time," Saoirse knelt to help him gather the largest of the pieces.

"It's shit glass anyway. We'll just put it on your brother's tab."

"Thank you, that would be… thanks," Bracken fumbled, nervously placing the chunks onto the bar top, feeling the bartender's stare bearing down on him all the while. Had she just said Edrin had a tab? Just how often was he there? At Cinder's table, Sable was still taking her time refilling the mugs, laughing and making small talk as she did.

"You know, another girl might feel a little overlooked, the way you keep watching her," Saoirse stepped close to the bar, placing herself directly in his sight line. Despite her words, there was still a flirtatious smile on her lips. Silk spare him, he'd thought himself subtler than that.

"It's not that, er, you seem lovely. I'm just…" He trailed off, distracted by Sable finally stepping beside Pike and placing a mug before him. She started trying to pour but yelped as the same handsy drunk as before dragged her into his lap. Bracken's heart climbed into his throat, trying to leap out onto the floor to join the corked wooden vial that Sable dropped. The noctar. It rolled beneath the table, unnoticed.

Sable kept up the act, laughing and squirming in the man's lap, one foot kicking out after the vial to trap and drag it closer.

"I need you to do me a favour," Bracken spoke quietly and quickly, making another snap decision and hoping it wasn't wrong. It probably was.

"Sweetheart, what do you think I've been trying to do?" Saoirse giggled, placing a hand on his bicep. He leaned in close so no one else would overhear.

"You seem very nice, so, I'm sorry in advance. Please just play along and I'll, I'll pay you back as soon as I can. Promise." He leaned back. Saoirse squinted at him, unsure and more than a little nervous. Sable still squirmed in the man's lap; the vial trapped underfoot at her side. Cinder looked increasingly irritated by her lingering presence disrupting his court.

"What kind of game are you playing?" Saoirse asked. Bracken had run out of headspace for embarrassment or shame. Sable's window was closing and if they failed here, the risks of phase three would be much higher.

"He loves you," Bracken almost shouted the words. Saoirse froze. Heads turned to stare, including the bartender's. Bracken glanced around nervously, the words already feeling like a mistake.

"What?" Saoirse asked, her voice pitched much quieter than his.

"He's a wreck! Don't you understand that? Do you not even care?" Bracken worked himself up, voice still rising as he channelled his panic into the lie. He shook beneath the weight of all the attention turned his way. The patrons seemed amused, but the eyes of the staff were flat and cold.

"Or is it all just coin to you?" Saoirse hesitated a moment longer, smile faltering, eyes calculating. One word from her, a refusal to play along, and Bracken would find himself in a canal treading water with broken legs. He pleaded as best he could with his eyes. With the shallowest of nods, she puffed her chest out and raised her own voice in turn.

"I do love him! Of course, I do! But I am my own woman, and I mean to keep it that way!" She sold the line well. A touch melodramatic, but Bracken was hardly in a position to be giving notes. Behind her, Cinder and his entourage were now paying full attention to the exchange. Two men, security, peeled away from the walls and started approaching through the crowd. Shit. Sable managed to pry free of her captor's lap, sliding clumsily to the floor, one hand splayed by her foot as if to steady herself.

She was on her feet and smiling again before anyone could so much as offer her a hand up.

"He would give you a life! A home! You wouldn't have to do this anymore!" He pleaded with Saoirse, silently vowing to repay her twice whatever her nights usually cost. Sable stepped around to Pike's side, refilling the stone-armed halfwit's drink. The vial danced between the fingers of her hand holding the mug. Bracken glimpsed it for a split second and then the vial was gone, hidden once more.

"You tell your brother, that I love him. But I love my freedom more. You tell him he can purchase my body for a night, and he may have my heart for free, but my future will not be bought with a ring and a promise!" A hand, heavy and cold, landed on Bracken's shoulder, squeezing with an unspoken threat and the promise of a fight not worth fighting. Two guards emerged from the crowd, one on either side of Saoirse. Dogs with hackles raised, ready to sic him just as soon as they got the order.

Bracken glanced up and found himself in the shadow of a titan made of stone. The bartender glared down at him, eyes flinty.

"I don't know what the fuck this is about, but you need to be gone now, son," he growled. Bracken spotted a flicker of red as Sable weaved past the bar, disappearing into the kitchen. He managed a shallow nod at the giant and forced himself to look one last time in Saoirse's direction, mustering as much conviction and venom as he could find.

"You tell him yourself," he spat, "Either be with him or let him go, but stop toying with his heart. He's a good man!"

"Enough," the mountain grunted. One of the guards stepped forward and planted a fist in Bracken's belly. He folded in half, whiskey and bile stinging his throat. The mountain picked him up by the collar of his shirt and the back of his pants, carrying him like a flailing child to the door. Through the crowd he saw Pike downing his drink while Cinder watched at his side. The Caller sneered, lip curled with contempt and his eyes followed Bracken until bodies and tables blocked him from view.

A few people laughed at the sight, though most lost interest before he'd even reached the exit. Someone stood and opened the door, making way for the Mountain to throw Bracken into the street. He landed hard on the stones, rolling to break his fall as best he could. The door slammed shut and Bracken lay for a moment in near silence, the dull murmur of conversation and music far quieter than the thundering of his heart.

Shaking, his entire body as light and fragile as a leaf on the wind, he propped his elbows up beneath him and glanced towards the side alley. Sable poked her head around the corner, her face wan and expression worried. Seeing him there, she deflated and sagged against the wall. No doubt she felt as frail as Bracken himself. Worse probably. With one shaking hand, she gave him a thumbs up. Success. Phase three was a go.