Squid rarely used taxis. The last time she did, it just about started a race war between werewolves and goblins. So, taxis were out and she was not going to explain it further. Bikes were an absolute menace whether or not one was riding them or beside them. Her motorcycle was in the shop after she nearly totaled it: a troll giant she was after had grabbed the second wheel and threw her against the concrete slab. Naturally, walking was automatically out. There were too many people. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, refusing to leave her building’s entrance. She didn’t own a car. Well, she once did but she got irritated when the ghost, who died in it, kept nagging.

Put your seat belt on!

That’s a yellow light!

Slow down — you’re fifty miles over the speed limit!

Hey, red light.

Red light!

RedlightredlightredlightredlightREDLIGHT!

Utterly annoying. Besides, lights were just… decoration. Suggestions, at most. For the living. She sold the car to a supposed medium. Her elbow was yanked forward, the rest of her body following as a the hoodied figure stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Our car is across the street; We’ll drive you,” the voice was muffled by the mask they usually wore. She raised an eyebrow as they released their hand. Ah, her roommate. Well, she said roommate but they really didn’t share a room. Or apartment. They just shared the same floor. Still, they were the only two individuals on that floor as it was considered haunted. She was rather proud their tricks worked.

“You know, anyone else would’ve screamed or hit you three,” she followed as they crossed the street, ignoring the honking of the shrieking cars. The car was black and sleek, definitely a luxury car. Squid decided it really wasn’t her business nor her problem to ask how they got such a high end car and not live in the protected palaces of the Elite. Instead, they opened the door for her and helped her inside before closing it and walking around to the driver’s side. As they closed the driver’s door, they looked at her, eyes flashing three different colors. She vaguely noted they had pulled down their mask. She just waited silently as they conferenced with each other. It must be hard to share one head, they had the one body down pat. Once, they had guarded the Gates. All three snarling at the mortals who dared to get too close. She was surprised Medusa wasn’t with them, but hey, most days she couldn’t seem to find her head.

Squid rolled her eye at the internal pun. It’s not like she lost her head in the oce- riiight. They looked at her pointedly, a single brow arched, three pupils in each eye. “I’m going to the Witch’s Bar,” she shrugged. “I didn’t ask for a ride.” Sometimes she wondered if they could still pierce into other people’s minds. It would explain how they knew when she needed a ride. Or just appear magically from nowhere… even though she never told them where she was going.  Those eyes continued to stare at her. Then the brows furrowed, a slight snarl forming on their lips. “I’m not working or anything. Just wanted some–” There was a chorus of three deep throated growls that vibrated into her stomach.

Damn, she forgot they could sniff out a lie before she could say it. It was always the small things that seemed to get in the way. And while she was technically telling the truth — she was going there and she didn’t ask for a ride — she had been lying by omission. Squid had informants all throughout the region, ensuring that all the rules set forth was understood by the supernatural/fantastical/nonhuman community. They were not allowed to reveal this network, this world to the humans because humans would freak. She pointed to the Orsen Alien Invasion Broadcast. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. She had been laughing watching everyone freak out. She shook her head, ignoring the growls. Terrifying to mortals, not so scary to an immortal who owned a rolled up newspaper. “Settle down, Cerberus,” she rubbed her temple as they settled back in the driver’s seat. “I’m not heading anywhere near Medusa. Not while she’s in the midst of a cultivation, anyway.”

They grunted in response.

Fine talking conversation companions they were. Absolutely terrific. If only she was being sarcastic. In fact, she enjoyed the level of quiet in the car. The outside noises were muted, leaving her to just herself. She leaned her head against the cool glass, ignoring the slowly darkening clouds and the light pit, pit of the rain. The Witch’s Bar was not technically a bar, although it did masquerade as one and presented itself as such. Her mind wandered back to Medusa. She was safe and sound for now, only Cerberus knowing her location. It was important that only Cerberus did. Perseus’s endless pursuit of her had… well, history hadn’t quite gotten it right. But better to think that she had died versus mad power-hungry shits using her. Speaking of mad, they were nearing the bar. She flickered her eyes to them. “Behave dog. Don’t rile him up.” She knew how unsettling her presence could be to other witches. Especially ones who masked who they once were. The Witch’s Bar’s owner was one such person. Usually on the up and up, he had been known to deal in the darker arts. But he rarely meddled or bothered to care what was going on. Whatever he heard – it must’ve been serious. She waited for the car to turn off before she took off her seat belt. Cerberus’s rule.

~~~

Once again, he had wondered if it had been a good idea to contact Squid as he continued to wipe down the bar top. It really wasn’t his business but then, it was cutting into his business. In fact, he was wondering if she would judge him liable. But no, his bar was merely for witches, mages and warlocks to relax. [Other incarnations of the nonhuman were also allowed in. As long as everyone paid, he was fine.] He served potions and spells that catered to what they needed – not wanted. No. No one ordered in his bar. And they could never exchange the drink they received. He watched as the floating lights above the tables shimmered. It had taken his years to finally make this place his. He closed his two different colored eyes. He had been born with a purple and green eye. It was distinctive back… then. Now, with a little bit of magick, they appeared black. He ran his hand through his short black locks.

He had lost much due to one mage. He had nearly lost everything. But, he was nothing if not a weed. Always coming back, even when yanked out by the roots. Kings came and went, countries faded in and out, yet even their shallow histories had barely made a mark upon nonhumans. It was as if they lived in two separate parallel worlds until a nonhuman strayed into the human. And sometimes, the nonhuman didn’t even need to do anything to gain the trophy they wanted. He felt his fist tighten around the cloth.

He hoped Merlin would never return. He hoped Merlin would never show his face again. And yet, he did, only so he could… old resentments died hard. If Merlin hadn’t sent that three headed mutt – the outcome would’ve been very different. The mage knew exactly how he appeared appeared: smooth, elegant and charismatic. He was no loner the arrogant and… well, fine, alright. He was still an arrogant bastard, a devious asshole and pretty much thought that nearly everyone he came across was below him. Regardless, he had been table to talk his way into his position now. He had steady patrons and his alchemist stores were sold at a hefty priceless dependent on quality. And how he felt that day. He still had his garden… done the ancient’s way. “They’re here,” he muttered, feeling that pressure of new magic.

Maorrighan [Mor-a-gehin] slowly turned around, flashing amber eyes as he observed who she brought with her. “Took you long enough,” he tossed the rag onto the black stone counter, crossing his arms. He was, perhaps, one of the few mages not afraid of the witch before him. “Got your pet here to bark at me as well?” Cerberus snarled and growled.

Squid waved her hand, a sign of truce. “I’m just here for the information.” He still thought her ridiculous octopus hat was… somewhat adorable. It had a shabby charm. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was an actual charm of some sort. But what? He really didn’t care to know.

“I said to come alone, not bring Toto,” he smirked at the growl he received.

Squid’s expression didn’t change as she didn’t bother to calm the situation. “Information.” The tone was cold enough to halt the four men in their standoff.

“Not sure what’s to it, but I overheard some sprites mention the Old Woman,” he said. “Normally, it’s just the usual drivel.” Sprites were a gossipy bunch and generally harmless. The ones to worry about were the ones summoned and bound to others. Forced labor could turn the most innocent into the most cruel. “However, one of the drinks I served – it was… not the worst, but just this side of gray. From the dark end. No sprite ever drinks that unless they’re in forced servitude.” He reached under the bar and tossed the sealed glass to squid. The drink hadn’t been finished and the sprite’s glowing blood floated on top.

The blood was a sparking gold, twinkling under the dim lights. She held it against the light, her eyes studying the contents. “A vuldaberger [vul-da-ber-er]?” Squid raised an eyebrow at him. “The sprite wished for death. But why such–” She stopped midsentence. This potion, while usually harmless to magicked beings, when mixed with a sprite’s blood would paralyze the magic user. They would be completely immobile and yet their senses would be incredibly heightened. “When did you hear it?”

He shrugged. “Hmm, I’ve seem to have forgotten.” He could be tight lipped when he wanted too. Even Squid couldn’t pry everything out of his head. [Side note: she had tried.]

“Morgana,” her voice still, using a hated nickname, “what are you not telling me?”

“Quite a bit.”

“The sprite didn’t order this,” she realized. “You specifically brewed it. You knew the sprite wanted to die. Who did it belong to?” He frowned at the question. The sprite had no intention of dying. No, the sprite was going to break the forced contract. Better not tell Squid. It wasn’t like the mage was going to die or be serious harmed. But, he would lead Squid to the Old Woman’s people. How… fortuitous the sprite had come in on that day.

He leaned back against the shelf. “Who else? But an Old Woman’s pawn.”

“She’s fast asleep,” Squid looked back at the drink. “Well, at least, she’s supposed to be.” Squid and the Old Woman had a long history. Too long. She looked over at Cerberus. They nodded and vanished into the hall. “What did you hear, specifically?”

“Someone wants to walk her up. Or they already trying. Word is they are tired of humans and want the Old Ways back,” he settled back into role. “Look, most of the stuff I hear is mere gossip, or drunken ramblings. This… this was different. Too secretive and hush-hush. Every time I looked over, they went silent. I sent Melanie to check on their drinks –” he reached into pocket and dropped the small amulet onto the counter “– they give her this. And I have no names. None that actually work.”

“A… I haven’t seen a crappily made talisman for about year a now,” her hand hovered, fingers spread, curling as she moved it down. There was a bright light, then a burning smell. They both sniffed the air. Cinnamon, apples and caramel. She lifted her hand, the talisman all but burnt. “Listening and enhancing. They were attempting to bug you. Or Melanie.” Amateurs. But it had confirmed both their fears.

The Old Woman was ready to wake.