Fledgling

by Tabatha Palomo

Chapter Thirty Eight

  It was a quiet, unassuming bar on the corner of the street, with a chalkboard sign outside the door that displayed the hours. Dustin held open the door for her and she walked in, taking in the sighs that greeted her.

  “We don’t open for another-“ a girl with a tight ponytail gave her a tight smile. She cut herself off, staring at the guy behind her, “Dustin?”

  “Hey Jules,” he said, raising a hand in an awkward wave. She blinked.

  “This is her?” the hostess asked, staring at Austin, “The girl you had to find?”

  “Yeah,” Dustin grinned, “I think the vacation time was worth it.”

  “She’s quite the Juliet, Romeo,” a waiter raised his eyebrows at Dustin before going back to wiping down the tables.

  They were speaking about her as if Dustin thought of her as anything other than a sister. To Dustin, she was just his charge, and she wanted to change that. She wanted him to think of her as nothing more than the one who survived.

  “Dustin called earlier,” a short woman with full black hair walked forwards, sizing her up, “He said that you needed a job. Can you start tonight?”

  Austin gave one short, sharp nod, “Yes, what do you need me to do?”

  “Evan and Dustin will tell you everything,” the women, presumably the owner of the bar, informed her, “So you’re Austin? What’s your last name? You’ve got shoes?”

  “Austin Smith, and yes,” she answered again, looking around. She realized that she had taken Dustin and Mr. Smith’s last name as her own, but that didn’t bother her. The waiter who had called her Juliet waved, and she guessed that was Evan.

  “Make sure to ask questions,” the owner said and walked back into the kitchen, where her voice raised as she shouted in a language that was not English.

  “What should I do?” she asked, turning to Dustin.

  Dustin turned to Evan, “What do you need done?”

  “Tables are wiped down, for the most part,” the waiter said, his voice smooth. He stared at Austin as he worked, his eyes cold and calculating, “The ice needs stocked, though.”

  Dustin saluted and made his way into the kitchen to do as Evan said, and Evan turned to her, “You need to know the drinks we carry.”

  He ripped a piece of paper out of a notepad and brought a pen out of his shirt, scribbling down some words, “These are the drinks we carry. Memorize them; especially take care to know the beers. And we also carry snacks.”

  She took the paper from him and stared at it, trying to put it all into memory. She made a song out of it in her head, “Thanks. So I’ll be waiting tables?”

  “If Jo had shown up, probably not, but we need people on the floor,” he informed her, straightening up, “So you’re the girl Dustin talked about?”

  She nodded, “I would think so.”

  “Forgive us for being surprised. From the way he talked, it made you seem younger. Much younger,” he said.

  “Maybe he’s just older. Much older.”

  Evan chuckled, nodding, “Maybe I am, too.”

  “How much older?” she asked slowly, wondering.

  “A lot older, Juliet,” he said, picking up the rag he held in his hands, “So believe me when I say that I’ve known Dustin for awhile.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good,” he said, “But he’s different now. The Dustin I know was obsessed with you. Now he’s…slightly less obsessed.”

  “I yell at him whenever he gets weird,” Austin said.

  “I’m sure that you do,” Evan laughed at that. He ran a hand through his dark, gelled hair.

  “But…he’s better?” she asked. She wasn’t a fair judge of the situation, but it did feel like he had made progress. She hadn’t seen him kill anyone in days.

  “Much better,” he said, “Now, what beers do we carry?”

  She listed them without looking at the shred of paper she held in her hands. Memorizing lists and words was easy. After all, she had worked for a storyteller nonstop for days.

  “Good. When you get an order, just tell the people in the kitchen and they’ll bring it out as fast as they can,” Evan told her, “Oh, and you need one of our shirts. Let me get one for you.”

  He brought her to the back of the bar and handed her an extra shirt, small in size. She went into the single bathroom and took off her shirt. The door opened behind her and Evan stood there, staring at the exposed skin on her back.

  “Interesting,” he said, shutting the door quickly. Austin’s face flamed and she locked the door, leaning against it as she slid on the dark green shirt.

  Austin pulled her hair into a ponytail, set to work since they all thought that she was old enough. She was only three years and however many months away from being legal age to work at a bar, and that was close enough.

  She worked hard for hours, dealing with even the customers that the others were wary of serving. A hardcore Christian couple tried to convert her, but, of course, they couldn’t have known that she already knew how her world was created—didn’t she? The Origin story didn’t cover that, and that made her wonder.

  Her mind preoccupied with thoughts such as these, she helped a drunk girl call a friend to pick her up, and then she went to washing dishes. Her eyes met Evan’s and she blushed, remembering how he had accidentally walked in on her that afternoon, but work made dwelling on it impossible. She never thought that waitressing could be so busy, or so tiring.

  “You have to have superhuman powers to do this job,” she said, bringing out new drinks. Dustin laughed and stuck a new order on her tray and she winced. Even sword training with Aiden hadn’t prepared her for this. She didn’t know that it was possible to hurt in so many places.

  “Then it’s a good thing we do,” he said, disappearing back into the kitchen. Austin laughed and shook her head, going back to work. She placed orders and gave orders for the rest of the night, getting along just fine despite the way she tripped over words. Most of the customers forgave her awkwardness and even left tips—tips that Evan said she was allowed to keep. Some weren’t as kind, but Austin could deal with them. By the time the last customer had left the bar, she was beat.

  “Juliet, we still need to clean up,” Evan tossed her a towel, “Tomorrow you’ll be doing something harder, so don’t get used to the easy work.”

  “My name isn’t Juliet,” she said, but went to wiping down the tables and sweeping up the chips that had fallen on the floor. They didn’t sell real food here, only things for people to snack on. Soon, she was done. Dustin handed Austin her coat and herded her out the side entrance, where Evan was smoking a cigarette.

  Evan took the stick out of his mouth and breathed out, releasing a cloud of smoke into the freezing air, “She isn’t chaos.”

  Austin stared at him, her blood running cold. Evan had given her hints that he was chaos, of course. Did he accidentally open the door to the bathroom this evening, or had he done it on purpose to see if she had telltale tattoos? She wouldn’t put it past a chaos; actually, she wouldn’t put it past any sort of dragon. No species had proved themselves trustworthy yet.

  “She’s a Halfling,” Dustin said, prepared for this interrogation.

  “She could still be-“ the waiter rose his voice with every word. Austin stepped forwards, taking the knife out of Dustin’s belt; her guide used his abilities to keep people from noticing the weapon, but now that it was in her hands, it took center stage. She pointed it expertly in Evan’s direction, the tip inches from his throat. It felt natural in her hands.

  “So I have to be one of your kind for you to accept me?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet, “How very…Anathaem of you.”

  Evan’s purple eyes –a color that customers probably thought came from colored contacts- flickered from the knife to Dustin and back again, “I don’t doubt that you raised this one, Dustin.”

  The knife was her bluff, he
r words her weapon. Wasn’t it the other way around with most people? The waiter looked at Dustin once before turning his head and walking away, “Good luck getting the others to buy this, Dustin. They aren’t as easy to sway.”

  Dustin smiled and nudged Austin, “They already have. The others helped raise you, for god sakes.”

  “Who?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She didn’t remember any chaos but Dustin.

  “The people who live on our street, your father, and random passerby,” Dustin said, mumbling through half of what he said.

  “What was that middle one?” she asked with empty curiosity. Dustin shrugged, nudging her with his elbow.

  “If you keep ignoring me, you might miss something important,” he rolled his eyes, “But actually, I only said the people who live on our street and random passerby. No middle thing.”

  “I could have sworn…oh well,” Austin shrugged, “Shall we go back to the apartment?”

  “Yeah.”