The Infamous Beast

by T Shadow

  “No.”

  “Come onnnn, what if I get one that has no internet access?”

  “Aren’t they bricks?”

  “Well, I mean, some are… some aren’t.”

  “I don’t want the one with the antenna out of the top.”

  “They really don’t sell those anymore.”

  “Knowing you, you’d find one just to humiliate me.”

  It’s a little wheezy laugh that escapes Mika. The blanket fort she’s encased herself in shakes up and down with the movement of her shoulders. I’m hardly surprised when she produces her own phone from inside her blanket burrito, pinging and tapping away on the freaking thing.

  “Verity said she’ll be there at nine, and by nine, you know we’ve got to add on at least thirty to forty five minutes for her grand arrival. She also said she’ll be bringing Llewellyn?”

  “Llewellyn? That’s Welsh right?”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s actually Welsh.”

  “Fair enough, cute name.” Glancing at my rusted old clock on the wall, I note the time. We should arrive at eight in order to secure ourselves chairs and drinks before the grand entrance of one Verity Varras and guests. Pushing myself up from my worn and tattered armchair, I go in search of some party-worthy clothes— my mediocre outfit not quite cutting it.

  My wardrobe has an assortment of clothes, anything from casual clothes; jeans, leggings and shirts with various motifs and differing styles to party clothes. I obtained those while being strong-armed by Verity when she was here years ago. Partying was her thing, and she made sure we all went partying with her, whether we liked it or not.

  I didn’t like partying— I mean, I still don’t, but I’m the kind of person that would rather sit at the bar and torment the bar staff. And by bar staff, I totally mean Eldevair, because that guy is totally older than the bloody earth and has a humour spectrum smaller than the nail on my pinky finger. After working in the bar for so long— probably longer than anyone realises, Eldevair should have developed some weird sense of humor. He’s not a person who likes puppies doing weird things, he probably prefers slaying his enemies and laughing at severed dicks.

  Maybe he just likes dicks?

  I should probably stop thinking about whether Eldevair is a top or a bottom, especially when I should be getting ready. It’s a slight problem, considering that I’ve had less than an hours notice to get ready for this homecoming extravaganza. How can I possibly shower, do my hair, make-up— God forbid I don’t turn up with some makeup on— and try to make Mika look half presentable in an hour? I need some version of a modern miracle right now.

  Attempting to get Mika to shed her second skin— not her human one, the all black garment one, is virtually impossible at the best of times. Unless you know her as well as me. Unless you know that she’d only shed the black outer clothes for well covered, all black party clothes.

  She only has one dress that she wears, which is a high-necked, black, skater dress with long sleeves and a white collar. Basically, she puts it on and looks like that Wednesday Addams’ more fortunate cousin. I spot the dress at the end of my party clothes, and pull it out. It’s still as nice as the day we bought it, Verity and I. She thought it would be a great idea for Mika to have a nice dress, should ever the occasion arise for her to need it.

  The occasion has risen again it seems. Holding the stretchy black material in my hands, I rub my thumb gently on the collar. It’s soft, still held up by its inserts, untwisted and completely flat. Without having much more time to ponder the situation, or how the dress has held up so well over the past few years, the garment is delicately pulled from my hands.

  Mika, with her mismatched eyes and blonde, coon-tail dyed hair look back at me. Her face is free of makeup, both eyes staring into me with the same unwavering intensity. Holding the dress to her chest, clasped tightly in between her small hands, she nods. Just the once, an acceptance, an understanding. Mika normally fights with me on changing her clothes, even if it's just to wash them.

  Turning as she runs towards the bathroom, I stare into my wardrobe at the limited amount of options. Verity would demand that I wore a dress, especially for her. I was never one for dresses myself, but the only appropriate one I have is a forest green colour, long sleeved and similar to Mika's, minus the collar. Anything green usually went well with my ginger hair, but I personally am not a 'green' person. More like a blue or a black person.

  Our countdown is slowly ticking away, but I decide to shower anyway. Mika can blow-dry my hair whilst I do my make-up. I'll look better, less like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards, and Verity will see that I at least attempted to make an effort. Mika is better at doing hair than I am anyway.

  My shower routine is simple, efficient and fast. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes from stepping in, to stepping out. Safely wrapped in one of my grey fluffy towels, I leave my wet hair hanging down my back, ready for Mika to come and attack it once she’s fully finished. It’s only when I sit down at my antique-esque dressing table that I start to tackle my make-up head on.

  A gentle swipe of red eyeshadow here, a precise line of eyeliner there. Red lipstick coats my lips, swiftly, just enough to not look like I’m trying too hard. With my skin foundation free— my freckles only show through anyway— and my winged eyeliner sharp enough to ‘cut a bitch’, my face is as made up as it could be. I have just enough time to shrug myself into the outfit when Mika walks in, ready to start ripping hair from my head with wild abandon.

  Before she attempts to scalp me with a hairbrush, I make sure the zip is done up and the buttons are fastened. The green fabric hugs my body, showing off my figure, but giving me no room to hide or conceal anything. Stopping just above the knee and my sleeves stopping just after the elbow, the dress covers more than some. Verity opts for less fabric, the less the better. Easy access, she says. It’s a crude term, but even I can’t fault her logic.

  I’m still admiring the dress, playing with the hem between my finger-tips when Mika forces me into the chair. Time, it's to demonstrate how to give someone a headache in zero-point-zero-seven seconds. Grabbing her favourite weapon of all time - the paddle brush, Mika hones in on my long, copper hair like a heat seeking missile.

  Instead of having the grace and fluidity of a hairdresser, which Mika could be if she damn well wanted to, she has the grace and fluidity of a brick in a tumble dryer. The paddle brush feels like a garden rake in my hair, pulling the skin off of my scalp with ease. I’ve never been into the BDSM side of stuff so much, and I’m reminded of this when Mika continually slaps me upside the head with the paddle side of the brush.

  My torment can only last so long. It’s a beating I don’t experience too often, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish it would end sooner. Only when I feel the hairband tighten on the crown of my head do I exhale in relief. Rising from the chair with Mika still at my back, I look at myself in the mirror, giving myself the once over. Mika also nods in the mirror, pleased at the job she did with my hair.

  We only need to put our shoes on and leave. That doesn’t take as much time as getting ready in total. As I walk towards the wardrobe to look for semi-suitable shoes, Lucius walks in— his nose high in the air like he owns the place. Fortunately, the little bugger doesn’t walk up to me, but goes straight to Mika, who’s sitting on the floor, putting her New Rocks back on. Verity could make Mika put on only one of a few dresses, but she could never swap her New Rocks for high heels. It’d be a cold day in hell before Mika willingly swapped her favourite boots for ankle breakers.

  Mika and Lucius’ connection is quite simple. Both offer each other comfort, unrequited love and company. Sitting in front of Mika’s boot, he places his paw on her hand as she’s tying her laces. It’s a small movement, but Mika raises her eyes from her laces to him, staring back into his adoring gaze.

  “I think he might be asking nicely for lunch Mika.”

  “Lunch? I think it might be dinner time
Lucius.”

  His little paw starts to tap on Mika’s boot in a gentle rhythm. It's only when she starts to put on and lace up the other boot that he uses both paws to drum on the toe of her shoe. When the drumming becomes the jump-pounce that foxes do— that looks like a little dance, that I realise that patience only stretches so far.

  “That’s the dinner time dance.”

  “Oh, he does a dance now does he?”

  “Only when you’re the one feeding him dinner Mika.”

  Her smile grows, because something, no— someone, depends on her for something, even if it’s only dinner. Mika finishes tying up her laces and picks the furry fluff ball up, striding off towards the kitchen.

  “You get your boots on Remi, and then we’ll go. I’ll prepare Luci Wooci’s din-dins.”

  “Mika don’t coddle the bloody thing! He’ll expect it all the fucking time!”

  The sound that responds to me is Mika’s insane attempt at a maniacs laugh, and Lucius’ shrill screech as she spoils him with his favourite food. I’m definitely the evil Mother in this scenario, and Mika’s the fun-loving Aunt. I’m not wasting anymore time trying to compare us both to regular, standard families, considering Mika, Lucius and I are as dysfunctional as they come. Stepping into my Doc’s without tying them up I leave the laces open. It's the final part of my outfit, and probably the most controversial piece. I can hear Verity now, “you can’t wear Doc Martens with a dress! It’s a fashion faux pas! A crime against all designers and fashionistas alike!”

  I’ve got to keep some part of myself for myself, so the damn boots are staying. Leaving my bedroom behind, I head towards the sound of harsh crunching, smacking lips, and scoffing.

  There’s a sight in the kitchen. Lucius has his food bowl filled to the brim; chicken, peas and an obscene amount of broken up Bonio biscuits that’s probably supposed to last him all night, but Lucius, takes the opportunity presented to him, is laying down in front of his bowl, with his maw resting on the edge. He’s using the minimum amount of effort required to eat his dinner; he’s prepared himself for the ultimate food coma.

  Mika is engrossed in her phone, seemingly oblivious to the absolute carnage she’s created. If the fox wasn’t spoiled enough already, Lord Muck would now be requiring all meals to come extra large, with an extra side of biscuits. The tubby bastard.

  “Mika, did you not think to make Lucius a smaller dinner?”

  Without looking up from her phone, Mika just raises an eyebrow.

  “Hm? No. We might be gone until the early morning. If he eats a lot now he won’t be hungry later.”

  My eyes roll back in my head; I’m sure if they rolled back any further, I’d see the inside of my own skull.

  “Okay, if that’s your insane logic for overfeeding the fox, you can walk him when he gets fat.”

  Lucius stops chewing his mouthful, turning only his head to glare at me, as if he understood what I said. It’s only when he sneers with his mouth half full, dribble and food crumb galore, that the possibility of him actually understanding me becomes a reality.

  “What? Don’t look at me like that, I let you live here, I feed you!”

  Baring his teeth one last time, purely for dramatic effect, Lucius gives up the ghost and turns back to his one true love; food. In comparison to sustenance, Mika and I are just chopped liver.

  Taking it as our cue to leave, we exit from the kitchen with our ankles intact, the small beast occupied with his growling stomach. Grabbing keys, purses and phones, we leave the cottage, our night finally beginning.

  •°•

  You can hear the sounds coming from The Wyvern’s Nest at least a mile away. At half a mile away, you feel the vibrations from the music equipment and the stomping of feet. A quarter of a mile away, you hear the sounds of a hundred voices as they fill the air. Laughs, shouts, cries and joyous exclamations greet us as we step up to the finest establishment in Stonehold.

  The Wyvern’s Nest looks like a rave on the inside,different lights flash through the windows, casting shadows of all the customers inside. It seems as if Eldevair finally removed the stick up his arse and lightened up. Or news of Verity’s return reached him, and he’s prepared a party for her imminent arrival. Eldevair always had a soft spot for Verity, even when she’s being an over-dramatic vampire.

  When Mika pushes the door to the venue open, the sound escapes like it was trapped in a vacuum. It bursts forth and almost knocks us back, the sheer volume of the music and the people, the smell of sweating bodies rubbing together, as well as the unwanted and unwarranted touches; all of our senses have been assaulted.

  My feet stick to the floor, coated with remnants of spilled shots, spirits and draught drinks. The crunch of glass under my heel is swallowed by the songs that pump out of the speakers above our heads; I feel the bass through my skin, drawing goosebumps to the top of my pale flesh. Mika’s skin ripples, almost as if her tiger is enjoying the bass sensations from underneath her human counterpart.

  We don’t see Verity in the crowd, so we sit in a booth near the door— close enough to see her walk in, but far enough from the music that I only have to shout to talk to Mika, rather than scream incessantly. I’m sure that Verity won’t be long, considering the party is in full swing, and many people are kind of wasted, but well on their way to total annihilation.

  Our booth feels bland with the absence of drinks. Knowing Mika’s usual, I take it upon myself to go and procure our beverages. Tapping her hand to draw her attention, I tilt my head towards the bar when she looks at me. We only exchange a nod before I exit the booth and head to my new favourite bartender, Matthius. As if he’s finally found his place in the world, confidence exudes from him as he stands behind the bar, throwing bottles around like an expert mixologist. The lights from the bar are beating down on him, and his skin glistens from the heat. Wearing a tight black v-neck top that sticks to his muscles, he’s captured the attention of all the females who have crowded around the bar like a pack of hungry animals.

  Distancing myself from the hungry horde I sit at the end of the bar near the catch, waiting until Matthius has a free moment to serve and make idle small talk. The miscellaneous junk on the wall catches my eye again. I’m in the middle of reading the license plates for what must be the seventeenth time when Matthius finally makes his way over. Finished with pleasing the adoring crowds, Matthius uses the old dish rag tossed over his shoulder to wipe the sweat from his brow.

  “Remi! I’m not surprised to see you here again! Where’s Mika?”

  I nod my head towards the booth she’s occupying. Her attention focused solely on her phone rather than the doorway.

  “Waiting for Verity. I’m sure you’ve heard of her arrival?”

  “Ah yes, Eldevair mentioned it early. When she arrives, I’m off for the night.”

  “Oh! Is that so he can wait on Verity hand and foot?”

  Matthius' smile curves upwards and his eyebrows wiggle knowingly. “He never mentioned anything like that to me. Nevertheless, I know he isn’t your favourite person. What can I get you, before he gets here…”

  I rattle off our drink order quickly and Matthius leaves to gather our small order. It doesn’t take too long to make, but the amount of people that bump into me is considerably more than normal. I’m hardly surprised that many of the people in town have come to see Verity; she’s friends with every single person who lives here.

  Thankfully Matthius knows his way around a bar, and comes back with my order only moments after I asked him for it. Then again, we don’t order anything extravagant, a beer for me and a simple vodka and lemonade for Mika. Verity, however, orders cocktails like Strawberry Woo-Woo and other ridiculous concoctions.

  “I can only count the ways,I earn these scars but they’re all tokens. Every time I see your face, I know my hope’s no longer showing. I don’t need a reason to believe, If my faith’s already broken. How could I let love lead the way… When I don’t know where I’m going?”

  Just
as Matthius sets both of our drinks down on small square napkins the door opens with a flourish. Standing in the entrance in all her vampiric glory, is our friend Verity. Just as I’m about to open my mouth to greet her and exclaim my excitement, I’m halted before I have even uttered a sound— let alone form a sentence. Mika wastes no time in leaping out of her seat in the booth and smothering Verity in what seems to be the longest tiger-hug in the world.

  Verity is illuminated like a God by the lights directly above the door. Her long black hair hangs dead straight down her back, and her mahogany eyes have specks of red throughout— she has fed recently, which is always a good sign. It's her pale skin however that makes the lights have an added effect to her. She literally sparkles like a diamond in the sun, not like that weird vampire film sparkle, it's clearly glitter.

  I hear the little shrieks as they jump about in their hug-a-thon. Verity and Mika finally pull apart, but only for a moment though as their desire to hug again becomes overwhelming, and they do just that. The hug goes on forever, so I can't tell if it's the third or the fourth hug, but amidst their cling-a-thon, I manage to catch a glimpse of Verity's latest catch.

  Llewellyn, or Lellie as I'm now going to call him, stands just behind Verity. His tall, lithe frame engulfs her small five foot four stature, but from the way that his head almost hits the top of the doorframe, I’d say he must be just under six foot. His black hair is longer than expected, long enough to tie up into a loose bun on the back of his head and still have some left over. But his eyes are the one feature that pulls your attention away from his attractive physique. Bright blue eyes wander over the bar and all its guests, his stare not hard, but curious if a little cautious.

  His eyes land on me fleetingly, but he nods once before turning his attention back at Verity. Mika previously mentioned that he was a dragon who lived outside of the fold, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know exactly what goes on behind the walls of the Dragon Realm. Doesn’t mean that he hasn’t heard all of the stories either.

  But there’s some unspoken understanding between us, if that nod is anything to go by. He might not know who I am, but there are still some individuals who will recognise what I am by scent if they concentrate hard enough. His however? I smell the smoke and ashes from across the bar, but it comes with a hit of citrus, almost like the refreshing calm before the storm.