Last Call

The pungent smoke was unusually thick this humid July night at Mulcahey’s Pub, considering the late hour. Mind you, the portly gent positioned mid-bar circumvented any hope of filtration from the undersized smoke-eater overhead, thanks to the Cuban clenched between yellow-stained teeth that belched acrid smoke every time he exhaled. The unusually large midnight population of patrons—more than two-thirds being cigarette smokers—added to the pollution, with assistance from the two revolving fans spaced equidistant from each other above the worn serving surface.

As the non-smoking bartender of the establishment, I was caught in no-man’s land—forced to inhale second-hand smoke no matter where behind the bar my service placed me. I could usually handle customers habit of poisoning themselves for the sake of the almighty dollar, but tonight the combination became more than I could tolerate without an influx of fresh air. Thank the stars the clock over the liquor rack chimed, proclaiming only an hour to go before last call.  So, with an announcement to those sober enough to relay the message to their brethren, I hurriedly stepped through the storeroom - out into the back alley.

Mulcahey’s was only a block from the marina—positioned so the breeze from the bay beyond flowed down the corridor backing the businesses lining the street with regularity. I leaned against the stucco exterior of the bar and slowly inhaled, expecting to savor the tang of salt complementing the cooling breeze. Instead, the unexpected stench of something decaying, something that offended my senses on an almost primal level elicited a gag and choking cough.

What the hell? That don’t smell like no fish guts I’ve ever experienced.

Inhaling in the crook of one arm I quickly returned I inside, slamming the door to deter that fetid, disgusting odor from following. I bent over, hands on knees and raggedly inhaled the musty smell of the storeroom. The damn stench lingered in my nostrils for a few torturous seconds before dissipating. Finally, I returned out into the bar, astonished at the amount of patrons lined up at the bar to pay their tab. Those regulars usually had to be escorted out the door after closing time arrived. Never before last call sounded. Strange.

While instructing those clamoring to be serviced immediately to hold their water and wait their turn, I noticed a new arrival. A young woman—not a regular, sat at the end closest to the entry, staring into her phone—ignoring the hubbub not ten feet away. Holding up a hand instead of attempting to verbally dissuade those suddenly anxious to leave, I ambled over to her position and offered up my most charming Gaelic smile, once I caught her attention.

“Hello there. I haven’t seen you in here before, and I never forget a face. I’m Aiden. What can I get you to drink?”

Her head canted to one side as she silently inspected me – like I was a lab rat or something along those lines. She looked to be early twenties, with shoulder-length auburn hair framing her face. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of emerald, and it took an effort to break away from her gaze. Her voice was surprisingly soft.

“I’d like some red wine – Lambrusco, if you have any.”

She held up a finger before I turned away and continued.

“I think first, you should attend to your other customers. They appear…anxious to depart.”  

She smiled for the first time, and my assurances those bums could wait died in my throat. Nodding, I moved back to those gathered and began divvying out the open tabs to each of my regulars. Another unusual occurrence that escaped me at the moment—every single customer paid me in cash, even those who always paid by card. To top that off, the tips were above and beyond what was fair and equitable. Even from those penny-pinching cheapo’s who’d leave a single George Washington for a twenty-five-dollar tab. Some even mirrored their bill total. Now comes strange occurrence number three. As each person paid they turned and exited without a good-bye. Without another single word uttered. Not even a grunt.

Eerie.

Suddenly I found myself alone in the bar, except for the green-eyed woman near the door, who quietly watched me move about as I found the Lambrusco (how did she know we even had any) and poured her a full glass. The silence was a bit unnerving, to say the least. As I set the wine before her I commented.

“You do realize we close in 40 minutes, right?”

She smiled and nodded, watching me over the rim as she took a sip, her eyes glittering for a long few seconds before she replied.

“I don’t plan on staying any longer than it takes to conclude my business.”

“What business could you have at this time of night?”

The corners of her mouth curled upwards, and she gestured in my direction with a well-manicured nail.

“I have business with you, Aiden.”

I blinked…then blinked again.

“Me? What business could you possibly have – with me at this hour?”

           She chuckled before sipping her sweet wine.

           “Why don’t you allow me to purchase you a drink and we can discuss the particulars. We have until closing time.”

           “I don’t drink while working. It’s a rule I’ve followed from day one.”

Her head slowly swiveled as she scanned the bar from entry to pool table in the back room, then looked at me with a bemused expression.

“There is no one here but you and I, Aiden. If this is my last drink then you technically have no one else to serve.”

Her fingers trailed along my forearm as she softly queried.

“Ergo, you can make an exception, can’t you?”

“I…I dunno. I am not much of a drinker. Don’t like the hard stuff, or beer. An occasional glass of wine with dinner is about it for me. Besides, I am not allowed to accept customers paying for drinks for me.”

She rested her hand atop my arm, sending shivers down the length. Her gaze locked mine and then she suddenly smiled brightly.

“Have you ever tried apple wine? I have some special home-brewed to share, so I wouldn’t be buying anything for you. You cannot object to that, can you? Then, we can discuss my reason for being here.”

Before I could object she produced a leather hip flask from the satchel slung over her shoulder, uncorking it and handing it to me.

“Here, just take a taste. It is out of this world. Trust me.”

She was insistent, I’ll give her that. Against my better judgement, in order for her to stop pestering me so I could get the answers to why/what business she had with me; I seized it from her and took a healthy swig. My expression had to be transparent as hell. It was delicious—Iike nothing I had ever tasted before. Without asking I helped myself to another mouthful, tilting my head back to swallow it down. Then a third helping. Finally, I handed the flask back. I smacked my lips, then pressed her for explanation.

“Okay lady. I don’t even know your name, nor do I know what business your so intent on conducting, but I have to close up, clean up, and rectify the books before I can go home. Faster you explain yourself the faster I can do what needs to be done.”

Her eyes twinkled as she replaced the hip flask in her satchel.

“My name is Adelina. I knew your mother, back before you were born.”

I snorted in disbelief.

“And how is that possible? You’re younger than I am, that much is obvious. What other bullshit are you planning on putting down?”

“Your originally from Ireland. Your mother was Dana – a leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

“Yeah, that was her name. How do you know that?  I moved here from Ireland over a year ago after my mom died in a plane crash.”

I frowned. That group name sounded so familiar.

“The who?”

She chuckled, her eyes bright.

“The Tuatha Dé Danann were the last supernatural beings to live in Ireland before the arrival of mortals. They were banished from heaven because of their knowledge, and descended on Ireland in a cloud of mist. They are thought to have disappeared beneath the hills when overcome by the Milesians. Legend foretold the Tuatha Dé Danann would become closely associated with the numerous fae who still inhabit the Irish landscape.”

Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

“They are similar, but different, trust that. Regardless. Your mother fell in love with your father, a mere mortal, a Milesian, and was cast out by the Tuatha Dé Danann for her blasphemy. They fled like cowards to a place they thought safe.

I pushed away from the bar and growled.

“Lady, I don’t know what game you’re playing but this ain’t your night. My Da died before I was born, so don’t talk smack about him or my Ma. I think you need to leave!”

Her smile sent chills down my spine.

“I plan to do exactly that, with you accompanying me.”

“I ain’t going nowhere!”

Her smile turned rueful.

“Do you remember the ring of mushrooms you used to play inside as a child?  The circle your mother warned you never to exit until the moon had risen?”

“How…how do you know about that?”

Ignoring my questions she pressed on.

“You were birthed by fae midwives within a similar circle of mushrooms, Aiden. It is a fairy circle. I received your mother and father after banishment and safeguarded them when she grew heavy with child. And…I was promised you upon birth - to become fae!”

She stood upright and smiled darkly.

“Your mother broke her vow and fled once you were born. She of all should have known never, ever verbally say thank you to the fae for a gift. It implies that the receiver owes them something, like a foodstuff, a favor, or their firstborn, no matter how deranged one might think that is.”

Her smile bordered on malevolent.

“Your father remained as she escaped with you to delay pursuit, and paid for it with his life. Stupid mortal.”

Drinking down the remainder of her wine she set the goblet down and began gesturing in my direction, weaving fingers in some strange pattern.

“She used the remainder of her magic and hid you from my sight until she passed, then you left for America. Even after you became unprotected it took me some time, and many travels to find you.”

A sensation of dread unexpectedly filled my body as her finger manipulation intensified. I began to back away.

Energy suddenly crackled from her fingertips, ensnaring me in unbreakable eldritch bands. Struggling was futile, as I was drawn towards what appeared to be a shimmering portal opening up where the bar entry used to be. The now familiar stench emanating from that rippling aperture turned my stomach.

“Time to go, Aiden. You have no choice. You received drink from a fae.  Finally you belong to me.”

Why did I disregard my rule and accept that drink?

 I should have known better.