by David Angelo
A wave of relaxation swept over Fin as the high kicked in. He exhaled one more time, sat back, and let it take him…
“He’s not from around here.”
Startled, Fin jumped and turned to see Scarlet standing next to him. She was looking in the stranger’s direction.
“He’s the first person I’ve had in a long time who ordered the kiddie wine,” Fin replied. Scarlet continued to look at the stranger, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t trust him,” Scarlet said.
“He’s mad,” Fin teased. “He’s probably going to slit all of our throats when we go to bed tonight.”
Scarlet gave Fin a playful shove.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Scarlet asked.
“You know it,” Fin said, taking another drag from the pipe. “So, I take it you closed the kitchen down for the night?”
“It’s a new rule Alto made,” Scarlet replied with a nod. “He doesn’t want the kitchen staff working past midnight from now on. I had them clean the place up and made them go to bed, and I figured that you might need some help, but it looks like I’m a little late.”
Fin looked at Scarlet and smiled. “Babe,” Fin said, “I’m the last dragon on Edon who’d mind your company.”
Scarlet edged a little closer to Fin, who offered her a hit of his pipe. She held up a hand in polite refusal. “Not tonight. I’m not feeling up to it right now.”
“I understand.”
“Did you get any tips?” she whispered.
“Why, yes, I did,” Fin replied. He got up and reached for a small coin pouch that he kept with his pipe under the counter. Then, with pipe in lips, Fin weighed the pouch in hand, scrunching it in his fingers, feeling and hearing the coins scratch against each other.
“Let’s see,” Fin said. “I made about ten rallod today in tips. Combine that with the forty in the bag, and we have fifty rallod in all. We need eighty rallod for a coach to get us to the Pine Orchard, plus an additional ten for food and perhaps another ten for other expenses, so we’ll need…” Fin frowned. “We still need fifty more rallod.” Fin tossed the coin pouch back in its cubby.
“Damn it,” he said. “It took me three months to make all that, and we’re still only halfway through.”
“Why not let me contribute some?” Scarlet said.
“Baby, you know how I feel about this,” Fin replied, but Scarlet put her head on Fin’s shoulder.
“I don’t mind helping,” she said. “Remember, this is our trip.”
“Yes, but I promised you that I’d pay for this myself. Money’s tight, and I—”
“But that’s why I want to help. Admit it. You can’t make that kind of money off tips by yourself. Just think: the faster we meet our goal, the faster we can make it to the Pine Orchard. Then we’ll be free, like rabbits, and there won’t be a Cullidon there to control us.”
Fin smiled, slowly nodding his head in solemn agreement.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll let you contribute. I’ll swallow my pride, stick a fork my ego, and be a burden to the love of my life because I can’t earn enough…”
Scarlet put her finger on Fin’s lips.
“You’re not a burden to me,” Scarlet said. Fin placed his pipe between two fingers while his other arm reached around Scarlet’s shoulder.
“It’s very kind of you to lie like that,” Fin said.
“I’m not lying,” Scarlet said, taking hold of Fin’s wrist and giving it a gentle kiss, causing his dorsal spines to turn a shade of bright red.
“You’ve gotta lighten up, Fin,” Scarlet said. “Take a deep breath of air and let your frills down.”
“You know,” Fin said, “moments like this make me feel…”
“What?”
“It’s the same feeling I felt a year ago, when Alto said he was going out of town, and he put us in charge of the pub for the first time.”
“I remember,” Scarlet said, giving Fin’s wrist a gentle nudge with her cheek. “How can I forget?”
Fin nodded and smiled.
“Imagine,” Scarlet said. “After we get out of here, that can be our new normal.”
“I can’t wait.” Fin leaned forward and gave Scarlet a gentle kiss on the forehead…
“Hey, lovebirds!”
Fin, Scarlet, and everyone else in the pub jumped. Turning his attention to the front of the dining room, Fin came face-to-face with a Cullidon standing in the open threshold, his brown cloak soaked to the thread with rain and snow.
“Here we go,” Fin growled. The Cullidon entered the pub and approached the bar, his every footstep sounding like a miniature earthquake in the silent dining room.
“I’ve already had the displeasure of hanging a member of your kind today,” the Cullidon said, “and if you and Lemon Drop don’t keep your hands to yourselves, you could be next.”
Fin let go of Scarlet and leaned against the side of the bar. He pumped his arms and flexed his chest in an attempt to make himself look tough. The Faranchies at the bar moved away as the Cullidon climbed onto a stool and removed his hood, revealing a shaved head covered with ornate tattoos.
“What can I get for you, sir?” Fin asked in the politest tone he could muster.
“First of all,” the Cullidon said, “my name is Cato. Second, give me the hardest thing money can buy. It’s been a long day, and I want to get so blitzed that I won’t remember seeing your ugly face in the morning.”
Fin tensed up, wanting nothing more than to verbally retaliate. But not wanting to risk getting himself arrested, or worse, Fin swallowed his rage.
“Coming right up,” Fin replied. He knelt down behind the bar and opened a small oak cupboard with a felt cloth interior. He motioned for Scarlet to join him.
“I knew Alto bought some of this a while back,” Fin said, reaching inside. His hand came out with a small glass bottle that contained a black liquid, its cork covered in red wax that had yet to be peeled off. Scarlet’s eyes widened when she read the gold label on the side of the bottle.
“A hundred and fifty proof,” she said in disbelief.
“Good old Red Special,” Fin said. “It’s barely safe for consumption, and it’s the strongest liquor we can legally purchase. Alto says it’s only to be sold during special occasions.”
“Hey,” Cato shouted, “what’s taking you two so long?”
Scarlet glanced over her shoulder. “You call this a special occasion?” she asked.
“Don’t you know?” Fin said, his mouth contorting into a devious grin. “All Cullidons are guests of honor.” He stood up, popped the cork off the bottle, and poured a small glass.
“Here you go,” Fin said. “Strongest stuff we’ve got.”
Cato picked up the glass and studied the red liquid, which was so dark that it was almost impossible to see through. The Cullidon’s nose wrinkled when he sniffed the potent concoction.
“You sure this is safe to drink?” he asked.
“What, you think I’m trying to poison you?” Fin replied sarcastically.
Cato put the glass on the bar. “You drink it. Then if you’re still standing by the time the glass is empty, I’ll take another.”
“Fine,” Fin said, grabbing the glass and holding it up to his lips. Fin could smell the strong fumes from the glass, which were potent enough to peel the paint off the walls. Everyone in the bar waited, looking at Fin, seeing if he would pop the poison back or if he would back off. Scarlet began to chew her claws in anticipation, while Cato rapped his fingers on the bar.
Smooth one, dumbass, Fin scolded. You had to make a joke about poison, didn’t you?
“I’m waiting,” Cato said.
Fin looked into the glass, the dark substance inside looking back at him, waiting to assault his tongue and torture his stomach for the rest of the evening. Fin could feel the perfect storm of a hangover that would inevitably follow, which would leave him crouched in the fetal position on the floor of the outhouse, praying to the Elder for
mercy, or death.
“Then I guess you were going to poison me,” Cato said with an evil smile. “You know what that means? Attempted murder of a parliamentary official carries a heavy—”
Before he could finish, Fin quickly gulped down the glass and swallowed. His eyes blinked several times as the liquid plummeted down his throat. It burned every inch of the way. Fin closed his eyes and shook his head, his lips sealed, trying as hard as he could to keep it all down. For a brief second, Fin thought he was going to pass out, but after a few deep breaths, he regained control. Standing tall and looking Cato in the eyes, he slammed the glass down on the bar.
“Your turn,” Fin said proudly.
Cato turned his head away from Fin and flicked his fingers, motioning for him to fill another glass. Fin poured the glass and handed it to Cato, who took a sip and puckered his lips when he tasted the liquid.
“You really showed ’im,” Scarlet whispered.
“Yeah,” Fin replied with a nod, “but I’m going to pay for it in the morning.”
Scarlet gave Fin a reassuring pat on the back. “I’m going to tend to things in the dining room if that’s okay,” she said.
“Go ahead,” Fin said. Scarlet left the bar and made her way to the fireplace, where she stirred the wood with a metal poker to get the flames going again.
“If only I was so lucky,” Fin mumbled. He leaned up against the liquor shelf and looked at the Cullidon through slitted eyes, observing him with a look of malice and distrust. Fin’s claws raked against the side of the shelf, and his tail flicked like an annoyed cat.
Just leave. He reached around the side of one of the kegs, looking for where he had placed his pipe. He put the narrow end back in his mouth, but the flame had since gone out while it was unused. Fin did not bother lighting it again, opting only to dump the spent ashes into the dripping mug and put the pipe back in its compartment under the bar. Not even a fresh high could save him from the misery of having a soon-to-be intoxicated Cullidon in their midst.
When Scarlet was finished mixing the wood, she got up and began collecting plates and silverware from full customers, striking up conversation with them as she went along. Scarlet was always good with the public, but on this night, most chitchat was muted, thanks to the presence of the uninvited guest. Cato barely seemed to notice, or care, about the cold shoulder he was receiving from everyone around him. The bar seemed to get quieter and quieter the longer he stayed, to the point that customers began to talk in hushed murmurs, out of fear that he might hang them all at the drop of a hat. All the while, Cato sat on his stool, sipping from his glass, a fixed look of disgust imprinted on his face.
“Today was hard,” Cato said in a slightly slurred voice. “I tied the noose wrong around your buddy’s neck. It wasn’t tight enough, and that poor bastard wiggled like a fish on a hook for about five minutes. Afterward, I got a heavy pep talk from my supervisor on how to properly tie a noose, blah, blah, blah.” He made a mouth with his hand and mocked his supervisor’s scolding. “I said, hey, it’s not my problem the son of a bitch doesn’t know when his time’s up. I must say, your friend got me into a lot of hot water today.”
The Faranchies in the bar glared at Cato like they would a bug in a bowl of soup. Everyone was thinking the same thing, cursing the Cullidon under their breaths and contemplating telling him to do something that wasn’t usually done in polite company. Fin balled his hands into fists and crossed his arms, his blood beginning to boil inside him. Cato finished his drink and put the glass on the bar.
“I needed that,” he said. “But there’s something else I could use that’s also nice and warm.” He turned his head to face Scarlet, who at this moment was bending over to pick up a spoon on the floor.
“Hey, Lemon Drop, feeling adventurous?”
“Hey, Horseface!” Fin barked, snapping his fingers inches from Cato’s ears. “How about you hit on someone of your own damn species?”
“Fuck off, kid,” Cato replied. He looked back over at Scarlet, who was now standing upright and facing him awkwardly, her cheeks beginning to blush.
“I have a soft spot for young Faranchie girls like you, because yellow’s my favorite color. But I won’t be soft for long.”
Fin slammed his fist on the bar, causing the Cullidon to jump. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” he growled. “I mean it. If you say anything more, I swear I’ll rip your Elder-damn throat out with my bare hands.”
“Listen up, Blister,” Cato replied. “Remember who’s in charge here. This is our world, the Cullidons’ world. You just live and shit in it.”
“Oh really?” Fin drew his head closer, almost nose-to-nose with Cato, their eyes locked in on each other’s in stares of hate and malice. “Remember where you are,” Fin continued. “You’re in my pub. Anything that goes down in this pub stays in this pub, and none of your cronies will ever know anything.”
“Is that a threat, Blister?”
“Perhaps.”
“In that case, I can charge you with conspiracy at the snap of my fingers. That warrants a lifetime trip to Triticon Penitentiary, the biggest, most heavily guarded prison in all of Edon.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Horseface. I’ve heard of Triticon, but I’ll only go there if you manage to get out of here in one piece.”
“Do you really think you can take me on? Please, you’re nothing but a little punk-ass kid whose head is too thick for reason. Once I’ve finished roughing you up, I’ll add a bunch of other charges to your rap sheet, and you won’t have a leg to stand on. You’ll spend the rest of your life in Triticon, and”—Cato motioned in Scarlet’s direction—“I’ll make lemonade.”
White-hot rage filled Fin’s chest. In that brief second, he recalled all the instances in his life where he was put down by a Cullidon. The disapproving looks, the offensive jeers, the feeling of oppression whenever he was around one. It all came back to him. But while it might have been easy to shake off the constant barrage of insults at the time, Fin could never shake the unrelenting hate he felt whenever someone directed a perverted comment toward Scarlet. Thoughts of what this sicko would do to her if he had the chance haunted Fin’s mind, settled in his gut, and made him want to curse the name of every member of that damned species.
Fin reached over, grabbed Cato by the collar of his cloak, and jerked him forward, pulling him over the bar. Fin peered down into the terrified face of the Cullidon, whose eyes bulged like white stones amid a sea of leathery teal.
“Listen,” Fin growled through locked teeth. “If you think I’m just going to back away and let you have your way with her, you’re wrong—dead, fucking wrong.”
Fin slammed his forehead into Cato’s nose and knocked him onto his back. Everyone in the bar gasped and looked at the Cullidon, who lay on the floor and clutched his nose in agony. Fin looked over the bar and waited for Cato make his next move. When Cato came to his senses, he sat up and sprang to his feet, but he was still wobbly in his legs and stumbled backward. Fin bolted over the bar and put his dukes up, slowly approaching the Cullidon with caution and reserve. All the while Scarlet and the rest of the patrons watched like the audience of a boxing match, waiting to see who got knocked out first.
He punched with his right, hitting Cato near the floating ribs, causing him to keel over slightly. Fin swung a second time with his left, aiming for the face, but before he could make contact, Cato put his arm up and knocked Fin’s fist out of the way. Cato grabbed it, then squeezed and twisted Fin’s wrist around, contorting it into an awkward position. Fin winced in pain and tried to pull away, but Cato only intensified his grip. Before he knew it, Cato spun him around, bent Fin’s arm behind his back, and pushed him toward the bar. Fin could see the bar coming toward him, and he was slammed into its side, knocking the breath out of his chest. Cato kicked Fin behind his knee and forced him to kneel. He rested Fin’s neck on the edge of the table, placed his left arm across the back of Fin’s neck, and pressed down.
Fin gasp
ed for air and flailed his free arm in a feeble attempt to ward off his attacker, but it was useless. Cato continued to apply pressure, forcing the last ounces of air from Fin’s throat. Fin tried to hold himself up to prevent his windpipe from breaking, but as the seconds went by, his strength began to give. Like a fish out of water, Fin slowly faded in and out of consciousness, trying desperately to swallow a few extra ounces of air. Fin knew that he was done for, that everyone in the bar was either too cowardly or too drunk to intervene. He was going to die right there, in his own bar, in front of a crowd of onlookers who would rather watch him die than risk their own lives to save him. All Fin could see at this point was the bottle of Red Special, the words on the gold label becoming blurred and hard to comprehend.
“Get off of him!” Scarlet said. Fin felt a heavy jolt, and the pressure on the back of his neck suddenly lifted.
“You want to play, too, Lemon Drop?” Cato asked. He let go of Fin and turned his attention to Scarlet. Fin collapsed, breathless and close to passing out. The world spun around him as he struggled to get up. Fin turned and saw Scarlet brandishing a barstool, holding it in front of Cato as if he were a lion.
“Get back,” Scarlet threatened. Cato lunged forward, but Scarlet slammed the stool into his stomach, causing him to keel over.
“You’re gonna pay for that!” Cato growled. He lunged forward and grabbed the barstool, wrestling it out of Scarlet’s hands and going for her wrist. Scarlet let out a frustrated groan and tried to break free, but Cato had her in a death grip. He yanked her toward him and forced his lips onto her cheek. Scarlet tried to push him away, but it was hopeless.
“This’ll only take a second, love,” Cato said, grabbing her other arm and forcing her to lie down on her back. He proceeded to bend over and place his knees between Scarlet’s legs, spreading them apart.
“Get off me, you bastard!” Scarlet cried as Cato’s lips pressed hard against her mouth. She wiggled and tried to turn away, but his grip was simply too powerful.