A Date with Death

by Scott Colby

  “No loitering,” Ulliver deadpanned. “You’re letting the heat out.”

  Billy waved back over his shoulder and headed on through, Driff close at his heels. Kevin hesitated, examining the entrance warily. Would it stay open long enough for everyone to get through? What if it decided to shut on him? Getting trapped in a man-eating bush but not being able to die in the process didn’t sound like a particularly good time.

  “Don’t worry,” the troll said reassuringly, “Sparky ate yesterday.”

  Kevin’s gaze quickly darted from the vines to Ulliver and then back again. “I hope Sparky’s a good boy.”

  “She’s the best.”

  “Sorry, girl,” Kevin muttered under his breath as he strode through the entrance as calmly as possible. His knees and hands quivered with every step he took until he gained the other side. The wall of thorns slithered together to seal the gap behind him.

  Ahead, the strange blue pavement continued on, flanked on either side by the spindly white and red trees, until it came to a nexus of sorts around a circular bar surrounding a central glass column wrapped in shelves packed with liquor bottles. The bar itself was made of the same thorny vines as the entrance, capped with a thick wooden top polished to a bright sheen. Tiny wisps of soft purple flame floated several feet above the counter at every third stool, making the entire setup glow invitingly. Crystalline picnic tables sprung up here and there around the bar like mushrooms around the base of a tree, about half of them occupied. Other roads radiated out into the forest at various angles and disappeared under the gloom of the thick canopy.

  “Nice place,” Kevin said as he rushed to catch up to Driff and Billy, playing with the free drink ticket in his pocket. He looked back anxiously at the wall of thorns. “How do we get out? That door seems like a bit of a fire hazard.”

  “It’s not,” Driff replied. Billy just nodded.

  As they emerged into the clearing surrounding the bar, Kevin felt every eye in the area lock onto him. A trio of short, spindly men seemingly made out of wood glared at him from a picnic table off to the left. To his right, a troll in a chainmail jacket smiled maliciously. At the bar, a stout woman covered in black scales and another with white hair and even whiter, semitransparent skin turned to watch his approach, whispering conspiratorially to each other. Kevin flushed and cinched his jacket tighter to his body, trying to make himself small. He knew those looks well; he’d given more than a few strangers who’d wandered into the Burg the same treatment. Kevin Felton’s arrival in Donovan’s was just as odd to those gathered as their appearances were to the human intruder.

  “Billy,” a warm, feminine voice called gently from behind the bar. “Welcome back, hon.”

  A tall, lean elf sauntered around the central shelving unit, casually wiping down a heavy stein with a white towel. Her high cheekbones and alabaster skin were straight out of a fashion magazine. She smiled fondly at Billy under piercing blue eyes and a thick mop of curly blond hair that dangled halfway down the back of her tight black T-shirt. The tips of her pointed ears barely peeked out from either side.

  “Hi, Lil,” Billy replied awkwardly.

  “Chocolate or vanilla?” she asked.

  “Mix ’em?”

  “Coming right up.” Lil winked and disappeared back around the other side of the central spire.

  Driff and Billy settled onto stools at the bar. Kevin stood behind them, examining the bottles of liquor that covered the central shelves. Most he recognized, but a few were labeled using characters he couldn’t interpret. A stocky blue bottle with two spouts contained a viscous, roiling liquid that reminded him of a tie-dyed T-shirt. Another, topped with an aerosol spray attachment, was infested with tiny turtles swimming to and fro.

  “That one’s not for you,” Driff said.

  “I was leaning toward a dry martini using that one,” Kevin deadpanned, pointing toward a square bottle full of eyeballs that had decided to stare straight at him. “Billy, do you recognize any of the other customers?”

  The reaper nodded. “They’re all regulars.”

  “Know anything about them?”

  “Not really.”

  “The wood nymphs over at that table are the Yrry family. Cousins, all born within a few years of each other. They’re the county’s biggest suppliers of locally grown narcotics and hallucinogens,” Driff said softly. “Garganol—the troll sitting by himself—works dispatch for the Woodville PD. Janice Redding and Carolyn Peters went to high school together in Uncton. They stopped talking for several years when Redding’s boyfriend left her for Peters. After he similarly abandoned Carolyn for another woman, the two made peace. They now traffic in a variety of magical charms and potions of questionable legality.”

  Kevin glanced suspiciously at the two women seated across from them at the bar. He recognized the name Carolyn Peters, but he couldn’t quite place it—and neither of them looked particularly familiar. The pale one flashed him a smile full of pointy teeth and stirred her drink suggestively. He looked away quickly, returning his attention to Driff.

  “You really did your homework, huh?”

  The elf nodded. “Lil is not the bartender’s real name. She was banished from Evitankari twelve years ago for interfering in the judgment of a shala’ni.” He paused. “Tip her well.”

  Before Kevin could ask for an explanation, Lil reappeared. She handed Billy the biggest milkshake Kevin had ever seen, topped with a heaping mound of whipped cream and three cherries. “Here you go, Billy,” she chirped.

  The reaper took a long drag from the thick straw, turning the clear plastic pink as the cool liquid traveled through it. “Perfect,” he said happily. Kylie would’ve thrown her hands up in the air and immediately demanded that Billy grow the fuck up.

  “Good. Now, what can I do for my favorite reaper’s scumbag friends?”

  “Scumbags?” Kevin snapped incredulously. “Who’re you calling scumbags?”

  Lil leaned forward on the bar, her eyes gleaming maliciously. “Two people who can’t possibly have a good reason to spend time with my friend here.”

  Kevin had never dreamed they’d run into someone so protective of Billy—or someone who’d so easily sniff out the possibility of an ulterior motive behind his friendship with the reaper. He frowned and curled his lip, hoping he appeared more insulted by her accusation than angry that she’d found him out.

  Driff wasn’t fazed. “My superiors are simply concerned about Billy’s state of mind and sent me to investigate. Mr. Felton here is acting as a local guide of sorts. When we met Billy…suffice to say that he needed a bit of a pick-me-up, the reasons for which Kevin is able to closely relate to.”

  Lil’s eyes narrowed as she examined the nervous human. “You havin’ trouble with a little blue bitch too?”

  That’s one way to put it, Kevin thought. “Not quite,” he replied. “The source of my difficulties is a gold-digging ex-girlfriend.”

  “Same difference.” She took a step back from the bar, satisfied but obviously still concerned. “What’ll you have?”

  Kevin whipped his free drink coupon out of his pocket and presented it to Lil as if it were a Nobel Prize medal he’d won for curing cancer. “What will this get me?”

  The bartender snatched the little piece of paper away and dropped it in the waste bin under the bar. “It’s a surprise. You’ll like it.” She turned to Driff. “What about you, four-eyes?”

  “Sidecar. Easy on the lemon.”

  “Coming right up.”

  As Lil grabbed a shaker and a bottle of cognac, Kevin turned to Driff. “That was anticlimactic.”

  The elf frowned. “Meaning…?”

  “Meaning you’re an elf who orders old man drinks! Wouldn’t you rather have some sort of magic flaming margarita flavored with agave grown on the banks of a mystical spring?”

  “Not on my budget, no.”

  “Meaning…?”

  Driff pushed his spectacles up on his nose and glowered through them. “Meaning there
are six such known springs in existence, all of which are controlled by a single corporation that artificially reduces the supply and thus drives prices through the roof.”

  Kevin’s jaw dropped. “I wasn’t serious…”

  “It’s really more of a special occasion beverage,” a gravelly voice interjected. A distinct feminine lilt punctuated the deep, scratchy tone. Kevin and Driff turned to find the two strange women from the other side of the bar approaching them. The smaller, paler of the two led the way and did the talking. “It’s not really appropriate for weeknight evenings out and about with random humans.”

  Something about Carolyn Peters and Janice Redding left Kevin feeling more unsettled than he’d felt around any of the other supernaturals he’d met. Though they seemed friendly enough, the two radiated a sort of chaotic danger Kevin couldn’t quite put his finger on. The world around them felt darker somehow. Whatever they were, they certainly weren’t people he wanted to mess around with.

  He couldn’t help feeling like he knew the pale one somehow. Up close, the curve of her face and the shape of her eyes were both frustratingly familiar. Perhaps he’d encountered her before in a magic disguise similar to the one Nella used around humans.

  “Especially not this human,” Driff grumbled.

  The pale woman took a step closer, favoring Kevin with her pointed smile. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s grown into a much more attractive young man than I expected, but it’s hard to tell just how someone’s going to turn out in the fifth grade.”

  Squinting, Kevin examined her a little more closely, tracing her square jaw line up across her round cheekbones. “Carolyn Peters. We sat next to each other in math class that year.”

  Carolyn nodded, her vicious smile widening. “Thanks again for helping me with my long division.”

  Driff snorted.

  Kevin couldn’t take his eyes off his old classmate. She’d been a small, spindly thing back then, but she’d always had a healthy tan and a full head of thick brown hair. Her face seemed to have changed shape slightly, too, as if her nose had flattened and her eyes had spread farther apart. All in all, the effect chilled Kevin to the bone; being introduced to this version of Carolyn Peters was like meeting some mad scientist’s attempt at recreating the real article.

  “One sidecar and one house special,” Lil called from behind the bar. “Shall I put the cocktail on the Combined Council’s tab?”

  “Combined Council?” Janice Redding snarled, a forked tongue flicking angrily between her scaly lips. “You’re a fucking cop?”

  “That’s right,” Driff said with an evil smirk as he took a quick sip of his drink. “Why do you ask? Have you been up to something I wouldn’t approve of?”

  Glowering at the elf, Janice took her friend by the elbow and dragged her away toward a table in the far corner. Carolyn smiled at Kevin one more time and mouthed “Call me.”

  “Are you always that good with women?” Kevin asked.

  Driff shrugged. “Some people have no respect for law enforcement.”

  Behind them, Lil cackled dramatically. “Ha! Actually, your real problem is that most people have no respect for hypocritical know-it-alls with nothing better to do than stick their noses in everyone else’s business.”

  As Kevin tried to parse the full meaning of that sentence, Driff turned and locked eyes with the bartender. The Council of Intelligence looked surprisingly disappointed, as if someone he’d trusted and respected had suddenly and inexplicably turned on him. Kevin knew that face well; he’d seen it in the mirror several times after Kylie left him. Seeing it on Driff in this particular situation made very little sense. Hadn’t Lil just insulted him?

  “I spent years on Poa,” Driff explained flatly. “I understand better than you what’s wrong with elven society. Evitankari’s got its share of terrible problems, but it’s still the most honorable power in the game.”

  Lil scowled and shook her head. “The biggest piece of shit in the bowl is still just a big piece of shit,” she growled as she wandered around to the other side of the bar.

  “What’s Poa?” Kevin asked. He’d understood about three words in that entire conversation, but one thing had been made perfectly clear: the elves of Evitankari certainly weren’t saints, and even their own recognized it. That fact made him wonder anew if there was more to Driff’s involvement in Harksburg than simply straightening out the situation with the reaper.

  “Drink your beer,” Driff replied, handing Kevin the frothy mug Lil had left on the bar. The elf looked to Billy. “What now?”

  Billy, obviously not expecting to be put in charge, choked a little on his milkshake. “Ummm…there’s a clearing over there that’s a lot of fun.”

  “Lead the way.”

  As the elf and the reaper took their first steps toward one of the paths radiating out into the woods from the bar area, Kevin paused to test his beer. As far as he could tell, Donovan’s special was just the locally produced swill the Burg and similar establishments sold for two-fifty a pint. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, but he didn’t have time to think about it; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Garganol the troll watching him with the sort of hungry glare Kevin had only ever seen on nature documentaries. He hurried to catch up to his companions, spilling a few dollops of foamy beer on his shoes as he skittered awkwardly after Billy and Driff.

  The only light on the narrow trail down which Billy directed them came from the stars above and the bar area behind. Kevin hadn’t been able to detect any obvious difference between the trail they’d taken and the others they hadn’t. There were no signs or markers labeling the paths or declaring their destinations. He wasn’t particularly comfortable with that.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “Cassiopeia,” Billy replied.

  “That’s a constellation. It’s kind of far away.”

  “It’s one of the many clearings in Donovan’s,” Driff explained. “Each is named for the constellation it exists directly under.”

  “But…stars move.”

  “So do the clearings.”

  Kevin took a long drink from his shitty beer and tried to wrap his head around that. It implied that Donovan’s whole setup—including the bar, the entrance, and all of the paths—turned like a wheel to match the movement of the heavens. And he had no idea how in the hell that could actually work.

  “Who the fuck is this Donovan guy trying to impress?” he asked.

  “He’s got a large family,” Driff replied cryptically.

  Ahead, the trail forked. A narrow path led off to the right while the main walkway continued on at a slight left bent. Laughter echoed in between the trees, high-pitched and childlike. Kevin peered down the branching trail as they passed. Thirty feet away, the thick forest opened into a tiny clearing where about a dozen lights of various colors flittered to and fro above a shuffleboard game. Squinting, Kevin could barely make out the gossamer wings keeping the lights afloat.

  “Pixies love that game,” Billy whispered, “but I don’t really see the attraction.”

  One of the pucks whizzed across the playing surface seemingly of its own accord, and Kevin’s heart caught in his throat as he flashed back to his telekinetic manhandling at the will of Mr. Gregson. He wondered if his neighbor was there with the other members of his kind, cheerfully playing shuffleboard as a means of passing the time and an excuse to socialize. Somehow, Kevin couldn’t picture the old curmudgeon out there among the other pixies—not that he would’ve recognized him without his Mr. Gregson disguise, of course.

  Their path took a sharp curve to the right, one that Kevin swore should’ve sent them back the way they came, and then the trees around them opened up and the trio strode into the largest clearing yet. Cut into the side of a hill Kevin hadn’t seen coming were three flat levels, widest at the bottom and narrower at the top, packed with glowing lights and logos of all shapes and sizes and colors interrupted intermittently by wooden staircases that allowed travel b
etween floors. A mishmash of sounds and songs echoed down into the clearing, creating a strikingly electronic cacophony sorely out of place in their woodland surroundings.

  Kevin paused. “Are those…arcade cabinets?”

  Billy smiled happily. “Donovan’s got one of the biggest collections in the state. Come on! Let’s see if anyone’s beaten my high score!”

  As the reaper wandered off toward the nearest set of stairs, Kevin and Driff traded concerned glances.

  “We aren’t going to meet any women in here,” Kevin said softly.

  “Probably not. Humoring him for a little while might make him more pliable later, though.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be really susceptible to suggestion after another milkshake or two.”

  Driff shrugged. “Got a better idea?”

  “Fine. How are your pinball skills?”

  “Bad,” the elf said as he took his first step toward the array of arcade machines on the hill. “I was always more of a skee ball guy.”

  Looking up into the sky at Cassiopeia, Kevin shook his head and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t come all the way out to Donovan’s crazy ass bar with Driff and Billy just to play Centipede. Dumping a pocket full of quarters into Galaga or Revolution X probably wouldn’t do much to get Mr. Gregson off his ass. And how long would Driff’s patience with their ridiculous endeavor last? Granted, an extended effort to fix the reaper’s broken heart would give Kevin more time to find a way to keep the elf from wiping his memory, but it also meant more time spent in danger of getting caught or pissing off the wrong magic asshole.

  The situation was a real catch-22. He couldn’t help flashing back to that time he’d decided to watch football all day rather than accompany Kylie to a new art exhibition featuring the latest from a blind, homeless lesbian who worked exclusively with drinking straws and chewing gum to create ten-foot-tall arches meant to symbolize the slow degradation of youth in the modern workplace. The more he ignored her calls, the more football he got to watch—but the angrier she became, to the point that she picked the lock to his old apartment, slapped him in the face with a box of souvenir drinking straws, then stormed out.