Page 31 of Dark Destiny: The Turning Of The Loom

Yaaf pulled the door open, and noise and light spilled out.

They stepped inside. Yaaf closed the door behind them, and they stood in the entryway, taking in the magical world they had just entered.

Low lamps, wooden beams on the ceiling, wood floors, and wood tables and chairs that looked like they had been made from barrels. It was dark and made to look old, even though nothing in this village was, and it was noisy, with many voices, some louder than others, the clink of glasses, and music.

The room was full of immortals, and thankfully no one turned to look at her and Yaaf.

Behind the bar stood a man with cropped blond hair and muscles that looked like they had sprouted from more muscle. He had a charming smile and a booming voice, and he was talking to the people at the bar as if they were his childhood friends. A dark-haired woman spoke loudly to be heard over the noise, and she sounded different from the other immortals. Her English was accented.

"Sullha!"

Anita waved them over to the table by the wall, where she sat with Mattie, Dimitri, and Petrov.

They exchanged greetings, hugged, then sat on the stools Anita had saved for them.

"First time in a bar?" Mattie asked Sullha.

"Is it obvious?"

"Not at all. It's just that you lived your whole life on that island. It's not like you could have gone to a bar."

"There was a bar on the island," Petrov said, raising his glass. "A good one. Almost as good as this one, but not quite. Atzil, that's the guy serving drinks. He's okay. He brings the good stuff, and nothing is diluted." He emptied his glass. "Another round, Dimitri."

"Go get it yourself." Dimitri waved him off. "I'm not your errand boy."

"You are immortal, and I'm not. I'm tired, and you are not. Go get me more vodka, you lazy bum."

"Fine." Dimitri finished his drink and got to his feet. "What's your poison?" he asked Sullha and Yaaf.

Sullha looked at Mattie. "What am I supposed to say? I don't want to drink poison."

Mattie laughed. “It’s just an expression. People used to jokingly call alcohol poison. Now it is used to ask what alcoholic beverage you want.”

"Get her the Pink Lady," Anita said. "She's going to love it."

"What is that?" Sullha asked.

"A sweet drink that's not too heavy on the alcohol," Mattie said. "It's good, and Fenella knows how to make it just right. She's the one with the accent, and she provides nightly entertainment. She reads objects as a joke, and everyone loves it."

"What do you mean, reads them?"

"You give her something you own. She holds it and tells you what it's been up to. It's nonsense, but it's good fun." Mattie held out her hand. "Do you have something?"

As Dimitri went to get their drinks, Sullha opened her purse and pulled out her phone.

"That's all I have with me."

"That'll do. Keep it out for when she asks for volunteers, or victims, as she likes to call them."

Dimitri returned with a tray and set a glass of pink liquid in front of Sullha, a tiny paper umbrella floating in it.

"The Pink Lady," he said.

"Take it slow." Anita put her hand over hers. "You are still human, and these drinks are made for immortals."

Sullha picked up the pink glass and tasted it. It was sweet, fruity, cold, and delicious. After drinking no more than a quarter of it, she understood why Anita had said what she had.

Something in her chest that had felt clenched for so long she'd stopped noticing it loosened, then loosened further, and she found herself laughing at things that weren't even funny just because she felt like laughing.