He coughs into his hand and sets the glass down. “Again.”
“What?” I grab the drink, ready to take a sip, but he snatches it away and gulps it down like he’s not one more away from a hangover.
“I said”—he clears his throat—“again.”
Who died and made him the expert? I may not be good at a lot of things, but I damn well know how to make good drinks.
I clench my teeth and smile. “All right, same drink?”
“Isn’t that what again means?”
Where did they find this guy? Shouldn’t HR be notified that the trainer has the personality of an ass?
I turn around before I say something stupid and get fired, and wedge myself between the other two bartenders. Tarek is on the far side of the bar, pouring out shots and smiling at all the girls flirting with him. One hands him a twenty that he puts in his pocket.
He makes it look way too easy.
Okay, focus.
I grab a fresh glass and repeat the process, except at the end, where I would normally add in the garnish, I decide to add some of the dark cherry juice on top with a slice of lime and orange. It will give it a similar effect. With one last sprinkle of crystalized chili powder, I make my way back to my trainer and hand the glass over. “Cheers.”
He stares down at it. “This isn’t a Dirty Thirty.”
“You didn’t like the real version of the Dirty Thirty. I assumed it was a test, so here’s my version of the drink. If you hate it, I’ll try again, but I figured you might like a little… twist.”
His eyes flash like he’s intrigued, but he abruptly looks down, grabs the glass, and tilts it back.
He starts choking immediately. The drink sloshes over the side of the glass when he sets it down on the bar top.
He wipes the back of his mouth with his arm. I’m convinced I just poisoned him, or he’s allergic to limes. This is it. I’ve finally done it.
I guess there was one more bar owned by a similar scary guy in Chicago, Sin, was it? Though rumors have it that the bar hides some weird tiger that eats people if they get out of line and that the main guy likes to taunt the Russian mob, but there’s no way that’s true. At this point I wonder if I’d be safer there than staring at this giant angry God of a man. I make a mental note to contact them and wait for the inevitable words: “This isn’t going to work out.”
“It’s good.” He finally squeezes out. “Might kill a few people, but what the hell.” He grabs another drink. “What made you think of altering it like this?”
“Spice,” I say simply. “It’s not enough to have it on the rim, where you have to lick it off, you need it in the body of the drink.”
His tongue slowly rolls across his lower lip, his eyes holding my gaze. “I’m Horus, by the way.”
“So I only get your name after my drinks meet your approval?”
“Yes.”
“Blunt.”
“Honest,” he counters. “I’ve spent way too long wasting time on needless words and actions. You either are or aren’t, so would you like to continue training now?”
I nod my head eagerly. “Yes. I would.”
He starts walking away, I’m assuming I’m supposed to follow, but he suddenly stops and turns back around, drumming his fingers on the bar top. “This whole passing out thing. Is it normal for you?”
I want to lie.
Correction. I always lie. I always say no.
But today, I want to say yes. I want someone to know my struggle. Wow, how sad and pathetic is that?
All I do is work and try not to sleep.
I want to scream into the darkness of night.
And I want to cry during the day.
Instead, I force a watery smile. “I have a sleeping condition. It’s bad during weird weather.” True. “And when the moon is full, which sounds ridiculous even though I know it happens every time.”
He nods. “It’s a full moon tonight.”
“Yeah.” My voice cracks.
“Is it because you can’t sleep or because you won’t?” His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity I’ve never felt before like he’s reading my soul and every mistake and triumph in my short forty-two-year life span.
I can’t speak. He’s not intimidating or even curious; I can handle those things. No, he’s looking at me like he sees the pain.
He looks at me the way I look at myself.
Without hope.
CHAPTER THREE
知らぬが仏
shiranu ga hotoke
“Not knowing is Buddha” or “ignorance is bliss”
~Japanese proverb
Horus
I’ve been alive a very long time; add on the fact that I skipped ahead a few thousand years, and I still haven’t seen anything like this. She has a strange feeling about her, but I know she’s completely human. If she were not, I’d be able to tell right away.
I would be able to smell her essence, and while she smelled different at first, I’ve almost gotten used to it, and it’s definitely human.
She has nothing but normal blood running through her veins, and while my powers are limited since I left my timeline and am now in modern times. It means that I’m basically half a god—at first, it was almost embarrassing that I couldn’t rise the sun or set the moon, but then I realized that in this timeline, it’s someone else’s job.
I clearly went into retirement the minute I left Egypt with my brother Timber, also known as Anubis. It’s still strange calling him by a different name from the one I’d called him for thousands of years.
But it’s growing on me.
Also, it does help that our friend Alex, another immortal who happens to be a male siren, often yells out “Timber” at the most random times, usually during Timber’s favorite shows, just to piss him off. He’s hilariously silent during commercials though.
Last night Alex started singing a song by some musician with funny hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Timber’s eyes glow so gold in my entire life.
Hilarious.
I think this is the perfect timeline for him. Even if he did have to suffer for thousands of years to find his mate again, at least he’s happy, at least he knows he was a demon by choice in order to claim a soul and find his again.
I shake my head and lean against the bar top. It’s already last call. I can’t say I hate this job; I just hate the boredom.
I want to yell at the stupid humans. Tell them who I am. That they used to worship me with awe and bring me gifts out of thankfulness that the sky still existed.
Now, I have beer stains on my shirt and just had to help clean up puke from table number nine after a girl witnessed her fiancé cheating on her when she came home early from a work trip.
I almost slip on barbecue sauce from wings that fell on the floor, but I catch my balance and look heavenward.
Is this really my life right now?
Humility. Such a thrilling experience.
I toss the bar rag onto the table and watch Kit run around and attempt to clean up all the rest of the tables in a frenzy. It’s late, but I’m not tired. Gods don’t really get tired; we rest out of habit. But here, I’ve noticed I rest a lot more. I used to be able to go days without closing my eyes, but now that I’m thousands of years in the future, taking a nap actually sounds tempting, and Mason, my other werewolf friend, said something about binge-watching Hallmark movies, whatever the hell that is, but apparently wine and socks are involved.