seymoure

Chapter 51

“Gremalgrin’s”

Just like, it seemed, the rest of the world, Gremalgrin’s bar was deathly still.

She didn’t know why she had hope that at least this place would show life, but she had.

She invited William Wetfoot in, but the boundary spell was still in place.

“Even after the end of the world, I can’t get in,” The Specter whined.

“I’ll be back in a minute, can I bring you anything?” Harriett called from the doorway.

“If they have any of the Salt & Vinegar Chicharron Pork Skins, I could use those, and maybe a pickled egg.”

“I hate to remind you of this, oh Mighty Chief Pontiac,” Harriett informed him, “But you are dead and therefore cannot eat!”

“Bitch . . .” The Ghost muttered.

She chuckled and closed the door behind her.

The place had rarely been a bustling hub of society, but she had never seen it totally empty.

Binger would have greeted her, if he had been anywhere. She had never seen him anywhere else, but she had never been here and not seen the lanky redhead.

Harriett walked behind the bar and took a bottle of Crown Royal and poured herself a hefty portion in a tumbler.

She had only been behind this bar once before. It had been when she worked for Binger on New Year’s Eve. When he suggested it, she first laughed. Then he offered to forget her sizable tab, and the detective became a bartender for a night.

Binger had let her out of the deal before 10pm that night. She threatened a Mafia Hit man, and when that was not enough, she bounced a bowl of salted peanuts off his skull.

They both decided she didn’t have the temperament to be in the service sector. Not a “people person.”

She still got out of her tab.

While filling her glass for the second time Dante let her eyes take in the room in a way she hadn’t done in a while.

The dark booths all called up memories for her.

She had done a lot of business in this bar, it was a second home for her.

Now, with no real home to go back to, it might be her first home.

“Stop it,” she told herself, “This is not your world, it is all phony. Like everything else about that bastard.”

She stopped herself, fearing to get to close to anything that might summon you know who.

She downed the drink and grabbed the big jar of eggs floating in some disgusting liquid. Then, with her free hand she grabbed a bag of pork skins, and began to come from behind the bar.

Then she was stopped in her tracks by a sudden thought. There before her were the curtained back rooms. She set the food down and reached into her pocket.

“Vaskania’s handkerchief!” She grinned to no one in particular.

Before her was Methaal.