"Rukh, it’s going to besomuch worse for you ifIhave to come around the counter and call him."
The barkeep lifted a heavy-looking wooden club from somewhere beneath the bar, moving to the edge of the bar to add his voice once more to the din. Ris yelped when the club struck the base of the bar, several sharp thumps that seemed to rattle down the heavy wood, but the orcs intent on brawling paid no mind. The shouting had coalesced into a chant, it seemed, and she squealed again at the unmistakable sound of large bodies colliding. Although she was not able to see anything, Ris felt the moment when a huge body slammed into them, feeling the jolt against her back, hearing the grunt of the orc braced around her as she was pressed painfully to the bar. If he hadn’t been there, she would have been badly hurt, she realized, her heartbeat thudding in her throat.Silva, I’m supposed to call Silva.She didn’t understand Lurielle’s admonition, but it was all she could think of as they were slammed into once more, her phone too far out of reach to be able to do so. The arm around her tightened as her punkish protector shouted at the bartender, but the old orc had already hobbled a foot away, picking up the receiver of a cordless phone tucked unseen under the bar.
"We need some assistance down here . . . aye, I know . . . Iknow, wouldn’t have done so if it weren’t an emergency." He grimaced, face screwing up as the person on the other end of the line continued to speak, nodding in agreement with the unheard words. "At the tables. . . Aye," he gritted out, replacing the receiver in its cradle with a grimace after a brief moment. "Well, there’ll be blood to pay now, that’s for fucking certain."
Ris gripped the leather jacket of her orcish shield when another glass smashed, the fragments bouncing across the scuffed floor under her feet. The sound of huge fists connecting with flesh punctuated the shouts of the surrounding crowd, and she wondered how anyone but the police would be able to stop the brawl the group of giant men seemed intent on having. She had just tucked her legs up further when a lilting, musical voice cut through the din.
"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" In an instant, the room fell silent. The sound of her panicked breath was clamorous in her ears as the noise in the room ceased, her fingers still tightly clutching the arm of the orc pressed to her back. Ris felt the tiny hairs on her neck stand on end as the air chilled, all warmth leached away, leaving a heavy, tangible sense of dread hanging in the suddenly silenced pub. Lowering her head, she peeked again around the arm surrounding her to see this newcomer who’d ended the fight with a few mildly spoken words. She recognized him immediately.
The handsome server from the little bistro up the block, where she and the girls had eaten several times during their first visit. He’d been working each time they’d been there, had seated them the very first night, and slid a magnum of champagne into their ice bucket with a cocky smile when they’d come for brunch. He was smaller than the group of burly orcs he stood before, slimmer and shorter than everyone in the room but her, and the sight of him there was incongruous, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips and a wide, toothy grin, in what appeared to be pajama bottoms and a thin, v-necked t-shirt. Bare, pale green feet peeked from the pant legs, as though he’d been pulled directly from bed to materialize before the fight.Where did he come from?!
"Is that glass on the floor?Myglasses? Or did you bring your own for the occasion? Is there a reason those stools are tipped?"
His head was cocked slightly, as though he were greatly amused by the scene before him, and he continued to smile at the cluster of larger orcs. She gaped at the silent group, the men who’d been fighting only moments ago, now standing shoulder-to-shoulder in silence; watched, to her amazement, as one quickly bent to right one of the felled barstools.
"I’m not in the business tonight, gentlemen. It’s my weekend off. I’d thought you’d be able to carry on as usual . . . enjoy a pint, have a laugh with your mates, maybe show one of the tourists a billiard shot or two. But instead," he paused, glancing to the floor and nudging a shard of glass with his bare toe before beaming beatifically at the group of subdued orcs, "instead you poxy, gobshite fucks have proven me right yet again — you’re as stupid as you are ugly, and you’ve forgotten whose hospitality you’re enjoying under this roof." His smile abruptly dropped as he advanced several steps, one of the orcs in the motorcycle vests hastily backing away until his legs hit the pool table behind him. "I haven’t had a single night away from you cunts in fucking months."
Ris watched, spellbound as the smaller man continued to advance, enunciating every word, all trace of the false levity he’d displayed only a moment ago gone, the bigger orcs before him seeming to shrink.
"I have to listen to your pissing and your moaning every fucking day like a bunch of bleating old women, and I takeonebleedin’ weekend off to wash the stink of you from my skin, and this is what you get up to. You’ve forgotten your manners, gentlemen. But fear not — I’m here to remind you."
One of the agitators grumbled something then, the peacock at the center of the trouble. Almost as if it were choreographed, the two orcs on either side of him edged away, lest they be blamed for his words, but the damage, it seemed, was done.
"D’you have something to say there, Matuk? I’d take care to make sure it’s something you’re willing to bleed for, because it might just be the last words that fall out of that gash in your face."
"And you’ll do what?" the big orc sneered, puffing his chest out to tower over the smaller man. "You think you’re going to just prance in and threaten all of—"
The peacock, Matuk, never had a chance to finish his words, for at that moment something cracked, apop!that left her ears ringing, and the very air seemed to jolt, nearly rocking her off the barstool. The orc tented over her stumbled, gripping the bar to keep his balance and position behind her.
"Don’t look," the punk orc hissed into her hair, the arms around her tightening, steadying her on her seat. "Just take a deep breath and don’t look."
Before them, the older barkeep had hunched, his eyes squeezed shut and his head turning away from the pool tables. She ought to have listened, Ris thought after she’d sucked in a lungful of air, peeking around her protector’s arm again to see the handsome server again; ought to have followed the old orc’s example and squeezed her eyes shut. Instead, she stared open-mouthed, unable to look away.
It was his jaw bone that had cracked, Ris realized, unable to pull her eyes away from the smaller orc, his jaws separating like a python’s, giving room for long, jagged teeth the length of daggers to descend, a gruesome smile stretching back to his pointed ears. The number of his teeth was unfathomable, reminding her of some horrifying creature from the depths of the ocean, and the space between them where his jaw had opened was black as pitch — a void of screaming emptiness so sharp and shrill that she thought her eardrums might pop, a great maw that would swallow the room whole, she was certain.His hand had pulled back as if he were holding something in his grasp, and the room had frozen . . . except for the strutting, cocky orc before him who was being pulled forward, his big body fighting against the grasp to little avail. He was more than an orc, Ris realized, was something sinister and dark, some malevolent fae creature of the nighttime, like the ones from the stories her grandmother would tell her, terrifying her when she was a child. The sharp cold that filled the room carried the smell of pine and black earth, slicing through her and freezing the air in her lungs until an unseen weight pressed against her chest, leaving her unable to draw breath, her hands clawing at the leather-clad arms around her.You never should have come here. You should have stayed at the pool, you should never have listened to stupid Silva!
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, his flame-colored eyes met hers. She was unable to blink, trapped like some unfortunate animal who’d wandered onto the highway, held spellbound by the leaping fire of the smaller orc’s wild eyes. He recognized her, of that she was certain. He kept her trapped in his gaze for interminable minutes, ample time for her to see the jumping flames in his eyes, the smell of bonfire smoke curling around her, the spell broken when he shook his head as if he were shaking off a gnat. Tight fury colored his features when his head raised again, replacing the manic bloodlust that had been there, and the hand he’d drawn back opened, releasing the room from whatever airless thrall in which he’d held it. Ris gasped, sucking in a lungful of the air she’d been deprived of, the staggering orcs around her doing the same.
"We’ve a lady in our midst," he bit out, swinging his attention back to the orcs.
His jaws had begun to knit themselves back together, she realized as his face contorted, still unable to look away. The black void between his teeth began to shrink, air and warmth returning to the room, and Ris was positive she was the only reason why. "One of my guests, and this is how you’ve chosen to act in her presence. She could have been hurt."
"A whole table of ‘em," the old bartender rasped helpfully, his breath labored from the deprivation, earning the smaller orc’s attention. "Left screamin’ when the trouble started. Can’t imagine they’ll be back."
"Frightening away my customers. Smashing glasses, breaking barstools—"
"Ay now, nothing’s broken," interrupted one of the biker orcs, only to be interrupted in turn by the handsome server once more.
"It’s broken if I say it’s broken," he snapped, advancing on the group again, his bare foot coming down on one of the tipped stools, cracking the leg. "And if there’s so much as a ripple in that cloth, you’ll be replacing the whole bleedin’ table. Destruction of property and now you’re costing me business. You’ll all be making amends, and this’ll not happen again, you understand? Time to wind your necks in, gentlemen. Since you’ve had so much to say, you can start us off, Matuk." That unnatural, dagger-toothed smile stretched once more, further than any mouth should be able to stretch, lit with mania, and she shuddered. "You’ll all be payin’ the Piper, or I’ll see to it your grandchildren will wish you had."
The threat seemed to rattle off the exposed beams above her head, the old building doing her part to amplify the voice of her apparent proprietor, and for a long moment, the room was silent. The bandana-wearing orc moved first, pushing past the peacock and reaching into his back pocket, depositing a roll of bills on the pool table. Each of his motorcycle-vested brethren quickly followed suit before the orc called Matuk moved, still trembling, dropping his own roll of cash. Warmth slowly began to seep back into her bones as each of the huge orcs pulled out fistfuls of bills, dropping the money in a mounting pile on the pool table before hastily exiting the bar.
Ris was suddenly very aware of the enticingly spicy smell wrapped around her. Her mohawked protector had relaxed his stance, and now his big hand rubbed soothing circles at her back as they watched the procession of exiting orcs. Once the door swung shut behind the last huge body, the only sound left in the room was the labored breath of the slender orc, who looked as if he still might decide to kill them all. His mouth no longer resembled something from a horror story, Ris was relieved to note, but his eyes were wild and his breath hard and sharp, trembling as if he were standing outside in a snowstorm, his delicate features notentirelyrestored.
"Lock her up," he bit out, the barkeep jumping to obey. "Call down the street, have Cymbeline send you one of the boys to clean this mess up." He picked his way across the glass-strewn floor carefully, stepping around the bar to remove a bottle from the shelf along with a rocks glass, pouring himself several fingers with a shaking hand before leaning on the polished surface with a grunt, reaching back to rub at his neck.
"H’ve you seen a doctor for that back yet?"
The smaller orc’s eyes popped open, scowling at the old man’s words, and she was certain he’d change his mind on allowing them to leave. "That’s some nerve on you, lad," he spat. "Drag me from bed just because you let your man there flap his gums until those Ghul’nag boys were ready to knock you all arseways. Get this glass cleaned up, pitch that stool. We’ll be raising the price of all the drafts to buy a new set, and you can remind them of that every time they want to give out over it."
