“Thanks, boss,” Jason said with a grin.
“You’re welcome.” Miles took out his wallet and left some cash on the table. “Order another one for yourself on me.”
He turned and walked to the exit of the club; as he stepped outside it was as though a weight was lifted off of him and he could breathe freely, unobstructed. He turned to glance back at the Neutral Ground before disappearing.
Chapter Two
Lizzie
Lizzie could sling beers faster than anyone she knew, so she didn’t see the point in hiring any bartenders. She had two waitresses that took turns working and some staff that came in to clean along with a cook, so nothing major, nothing that required high maintenance, and nothing that caused drama. Her Neutral Ground was run like a well-oiled machine, and Lizzie liked it that way; although lately, it felt like something was up. At first, she noticed it with the Vampires that frequently came by for drinks. It was like clockwork the way they came by every night before they went off to do whatever it was they did. Lately, however, their party seemed to be short a few people, and then less, and then even fewer until there were just two of them. Not one to pry, Lizzie didn’t ask where they had gone, but then even those two didn’t come by anymore. Lizzie would have been upset about the loss of business, but a group of Fae quickly replaced the missing Vampires, so there was no lost coin for her.
Werewolves also became scarce, as well as Demons. It didn’t all happen all at once, though; it was over several weeks. As though their numbers just dwindled slowly, but the strangest thing was that as their numbers dwindled, so the other ‘side’ picked up. Fae, Angels, and all different manner of ‘good’ creatures filled her bar, and it was the oddest thing.
Stranger still was that from the first missing Vampire, the humans began acting weird. Typically, a Fallen Angel such as herself had minimal contact with humans, but Lizzie was not like other Fallen Angels. She had a rebellious streak in her a mile long and lived to break the rules. Lizzie did all her orders and collected them herself, frequently venturing out into the mortal world posing as a human. Not just like a typical human either—with her jet black hair with bright pink streaks that swung over her shoulder, her piercing green eyes, and beautiful full lips, at five foot six, Lizzie would dress like a little punk rocker and make sure she was noticeable and memorable. Everyone knew who she was, even if they didn’t realize they never visited her bar. It was readily apparent to her then that the humans seemed different. At first, it was just their mannerisms. They seemed more polite and more helpful than usual. Soon though, as time passed and the more ‘evil’ supernatural beings vanished from the scene, they seemed to be too good, almost brainwashed. Every little thing was a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and new rules started to pass as laws that would never have been accepted before in the city. Curfew was introduced and a ban on alcohol and guns and certain types of clothes, including what Lizzie liked to wear, though no one gave her any trouble for it.
Around the same time, Lizzie noted that more and more Balancers started to appear at the pub, but they wouldn’t stick around for long. They would generally talk to a few Angels before leaving, probably looking for the Demons or Vampires or Werewolves that used to come in. Hell, they didn’t even get Banshees anymore, and Lizzie wondered where they had suddenly all gone to. It’s not like they all just disappeared into thin air. It wasn’t until one particular night that Lizzie’s curiosity peaked.
She had just opened the bar for the evening and was behind the counter stacking glasses when a dark-toned man walked in. He was in a suit and carried a walking stick. Lizzie pegged him for a Balancer immediately.
“You’re early,” she said. “No one has come in yet.”
“I was hoping so,” the man said, pulling a card out of his pocket and sliding it across the bar. Lizzie reached across and picked it up. It read only ‘John Patrick, Balancer’ in gold twirly lettering.
“What can I get you, John?” she offered.
“Bourbon, please,” he said, taking a seat at the bar. “What can you tell me about the lack of evil in the city?”
“There’s a lack of it,” she said, pouring him a drink and sliding the glass to him before pouring herself a whiskey. “Haven’t seen anyone for weeks. It seems to be affecting humans.”
“Have you seen any Balancers trying to resolve this?” he asked, sipping his drink.
“A few have come and gone, but nothing has changed,” Lizzie said, leaning back. “Want to tell me what this is about?”
“Balancer business,” John said. “Just following some leads before I report back to Headquarters.”
“Your friends following leads too?” Lizzie asked, finishing her whiskey and setting her glass down.
“Hmmm,” John responded, finishing his drink. Suddenly an Angel came into the pub and seeing John speaking to Lizzie, he walked over.
“This guy bothering you, Lizzie?”
“No, I can handle my own business, move on,” she said. “Order a drink or leave.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, and it’s just we’ve had a lot of Balancers around lately asking questions,” the Angel said.
“Have you?” John asked, turning to look at the Angel, “And what have you answered them?”
“We’ve taken them where they wanted to go is all.” The Angel shrugged. “After that, they were free to do what they pleased.”
“Perhaps you could show me where that is,” John said, standing up.
“Sure,” the Angel responded. “I’ll be back, Lizzie, take care now.”
Lizzie nodded, and she didn’t know why, but something about the entire arrangement didn’t sit right with her. She knew in her heart that Angels were good guys and that Balancers were off-limits, but just the way the Angel, oh what was his name... Adrial! The way Adrial had spoken to John Patrick, it had felt foreboding. Lizzie didn’t have time to dwell on it though as Fae, Angels, and other supernaturals started to enter the pub; it was time to serve her customers.
When Adrial returned over an hour later, Lizzie wanted to ask him where he had taken John Patrick, but something stopped her from doing so, a sense of self-preservation to say the least. She poured his beer and slid it to him across the bar. He thanked her and gave her a big tip, and she gave him a small smile in return before she went on to serve the next supernatural that called for her attention.
Of course, some tried to flirt with her. That was the downside of running the bar. Every supernatural thought as a Fallen Angel, you were fair game to be toyed with. As an outcast to the paranormal community, you were just a thing to be used and cast aside. Lizzie couldn’t stand the way Fallen Angels were treated as property and bargaining chips, especially by their Angel parents. Lizzie knew if her father even tried to pull that shit with her, she’d put his head on a spike, and he knew it too. He would have laughed at the thought though, and he didn’t have time for such foolish games. Still, the patrons all thought of her as a prize and tried to catch her eye and ‘win her heart.’
She wasn’t interested. She didn’t have time to play their little games of cat and mouse. She was flirtatious enough to sell drinks and keep customers, but nothing beyond what the job called for and if someone went too far, well, she wasn’t just any Fallen Angel. She had a lot of power, and an influential parent, so she could certainly take care of herself and if she couldn’t, the shotgun beneath her bar certainly helped.