Page 4

Bat Out of Hell (Into a Pub)

" M urphy!" yelled Butcher, entering The Boozy Cauldron just before midnight, the unconscious woman precariously held in his arms. "Got a situation!"

A hush fell over the usually lively pub. The stocky Irish warlock, Murphy O'Reilly, possessing the build of a boxer and intense black eyes, glanced up from the bar he was cleaning. Seeing Butcher carrying a limp stranger in his arms, his thick eyebrows shot up.

"Bloody hell, Butcher," Murphy scolded, hurrying around the bar. His slight Irish lilt became more pronounced with concern. "You can't just bring corpses in here. This isn't a morgue."

From the back room came Uma O'Reilly, Murphy's daughter, her dark eyes narrowing under her black hair. Allen, her tabby familiar, strolled nonchalantly behind her, exuding the confidence of a seasoned observer.

"What's all this commotion, then?" Allen asked, his voice carrying the unexpected accent of a 1940s film noir detective. "A damsel in death, I see."

"Don't worry, she's alive," Butcher said, settling the woman into a booth. "Found her in the cemetery. And she's got a British bat."

Right on cue, the small bat glided through the door and perched protectively on the back of the booth.

"She needs sustenance," Bartie announced in his crisp, haughty British accent. "And perhaps a proper cup of tea, if you Americans can manage such a thing."

"We're Irish, you arse." Uma crossed her arms, smirking. "Allen," she said, "don't let that bat cause any problems."

"Don't worry," Allen replied, his tail swishing. "If Wings there gets uppity, I'll show him how we handle troublemakers.”

Murphy leaned over the woman to check her pulse, noticing the scratches on her arms and bruising on her neck. "These look rough. Some healed, some fresh." Murphy looked up at Bartie.

"Not from me! These are from their... methods." Bartie corrected stiffly. "They kept her weakened and scared."

The pub's warmth seemed to rouse the woman. Her eyes fluttered, then snapped open in panic. She jerked upright, immediately pressing herself into the corner of the booth, her hands raised defensively.

"Easy now," Murphy said gently. "You're safe here."

But her wild eyes darted around the pub, taking in the crowd of faces with visible terror. When someone shifted in their chair, she flinched. The sound of glasses clinking made her shoulders hunch up around her ears.

"What kind of bat is he?" Dottie Darwin whispered loudly, as she leaned in for a better look at Bartie.

"I am a fruit bat, thank you very much," Bartie retorted, puffing out his chest. "Though I've kept some... questionable company of late. The name is Bartholomew, but you may call me Bartie. I'm particular about who uses my diminutive, but given the circumstances, I'll make an exception."

Uma returned with soup and water. "Here, try to eat something."

But as Uma approached with the steaming bowl, the woman shrank back, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow. "No, please... they used to drug the food." Her voice cracked.

"It's safe," Bartie assured her, flying down to land on the table. "I assure you. No tampering. You need strength."

Her hands shook as she reached for the spoon. The first attempt sent soup splattering across the table as tremors wracked her fingers. She froze, expecting punishment or ridicule, her whole body tensing.

"It's alright," Uma said softly, sliding a napkin over. "Take your time."

"Where am I?" she asked hoarsely, her voice worn out from fatigue.

"Cauldron Falls, love," Murphy answered, helping her steady the spoon. "The Boozy Cauldron, to be exact. I'm Murphy O'Reilly."

"Cauldron Falls," she repeated, and for the first time, hope flickered across her face. "I made it. I actually made it." Then her expression crumpled. "He'll find me. He always finds me." She shuddered.

"Who'll find you?" Uma asked.

"Ronald." The name came out like a curse. "He'll be so angry. When vampires don't get their way..." She rubbed her arms where old bruises overlapped new ones.

"Vampires?" several pub patrons murmured the word.

"Someone call Roam," Murphy instructed one of the onlookers. "Tell him we've got a visitor, who might have a case."

"Already texted him," Uma said, keeping a wary eye on the stranger as she hungrily devoured the soup. "He was at FACTS & FIBS with Honey. Should be here soon."

At the mention of Honey's name, the woman's spoon slipped back into the bowl, and she grabbed her chest where a thin silver chain was visible.

"What, precisely, are FACTS & FIBS?" Bartie inquired, trying to distract his ward from her growing distress.

Gloria Pendlebury jumped in enthusiastically. "It's where witches and warlocks go to get paired with their perfect familiar companions. Honey Hadwin runs it while her parents are traveling the world rescuing rogue, and lost familiars."

Minutes later, Roam O'Reilly burst through the pub door, his presence immediately commanding attention. Close behind, Honey Hadwin followed.

"What's the emergency?" Roam asked wrinkling his nose as an acrid scent that didn't belong in the familiar warmth of the pub hit his nostrils.

Murphy gestured toward the woman. "Found in the cemetery by Butcher. Seems a bit... disconnected."

When Honey approached, the woman went absolutely still, like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes fixed on Honey's face with an intensity that seemed almost painful.

"Hello," Honey said softly. "I'm Honey Hadwin. What brings you to Cauldron Falls?"

"It's you," she breathed, her voice choked with emotion. "All this time... and it's actually you."

Honey's brow creased in confusion. "I'm sorry. Do we know each other?" However, as she inquired, memories began to resurface - sprinting through shadowy forests, a smaller hand gripping hers tightly, the sound of panicked breaths.

Pulling the necklace free, the woman showed a name engraved on the silver bar - a name she barely remembered, Maisie.

Honey gasped, her hand immediately going to her neck where a matching necklace was concealed under her shirt. Her trembling fingers drew it out, showing the inscription Martha on the silver.

"Bunny?" Honey whispered, using the pet name that suddenly flooded back.

"Honey," the woman whispered back, tears filling her eyes.

Memories flooded back, shattering the magical barriers that had held them captive. Running together as children. The terrified breathing. The voice of a woman telling them to run, to never look back.

Honey's voice broke, tears streaming down her face. "You're my sister?"

Moving to protect Honey, Roam approached as she rushed forward, embracing the woman tightly and causing the bat to stumble.

"I never thought I'd find you," Honey sobbed, holding her long-lost sister. "We've looked everywhere. For a year, ever since Leahnora told me... I'd almost given up."

The patrons of The Boozy Cauldron watched in stunned silence. Even Allen had stopped his vigilant watch of Bartie, his feline eyes wide with surprise. "Talk about a family reunion," he muttered to Uma, who shushed him.

Maisie returned the embrace weakly, her own tears falling. "I came to warn you," she said, her voice muffled against Honey's shoulder. "I had to escape so I could find you."

Honey pulled back, concern replacing the joy on her face. "Who did you escape from? What are you talking about?"

"Vampires," her sister declared, her voice suddenly firmer, imbued with urgency. "Led by Ronald."

A ripple of nervous laughter spread through the pub. A cackle erupted from Tandy Keyes seated in the back.

"Ronald?" Murphy questioned dubiously. "Funny name for a bloodsucker."

"The name is misleading," Bartie said, smoothing his feathers and returning to his perch on Maisie's shoulder.

"Ronald is not your typical vampire. He is ridiculously comical with his orange skin, atrocious comb-over, and habit of referring to himself in the third person.

Yet, beneath the farce lies a dangerous, single-minded obsession. "

The laughter in the pub quieted as Bartie carried on, his small bat characteristics managing to show profound worry.

"He may present himself as a buffoon with a spray tan but make no mistake. Ronald has left a trail of drained bodies across three states. He commands a coven of devoted followers who obey his every whim, no matter how outlandish. And he is fixated on Cauldron Falls."

Maisie nodded earnestly. "It's true. He has horrible taste in fashion, too. He thinks the tan helps him blend in with other kinds of creatures. But the other vampires hate it. And he's coming to take over Cauldron Falls and use the water."

"Wait, wait, wait," Gloria interrupted, stepping forward. "Are you saying we're about to be invaded by a tanning-bed vampire with bad hair?"

"Precisely," Bartie confirmed gravely. "His appearance might draw mockery, but his ambitions are undeniably serious."

Although more laughter spread through the pub, the woman's expression didn't change. Her fingers clenched the edge of the table.

"He wants Cauldron Falls," she continued, holding Honey's gaze. "The magic here---especially the water from the falls---it has a calling. The water protects and enhances those who freely claim it. Ronald plans to take the water and turn Cauldron Falls into a resort for vampires."

"A resort?" Dottie questioned, "Like with vampire concierges and blood cocktails by the pool?"

"Exactly," she nodded, relief flooding her face as someone seemed to understand. "He calls it 'Fangtasia Falls'---a luxury destination where vampires can bathe in the magical waters and temporarily overcome their vulnerability to sunlight, garlic, and all that stuff."

Doubtful glances passed between Roam and Murphy. Honey, however, was wholly absorbed by her sister's frightened eyes. "How did you escape?" she asked softly.