Flashfire

Ch6

That evening Caleb was sitting cross-legged on the bed reading his spellbook. He flexed his feet, his toes cracking in his socks. Liam was nowhere to be found and so he had the rest of the day to study the ancient text. Caleb assumed that he had gone out as he usually did to get whatever they needed for the bar; salt, cleaning supplies, liquor. Whatever they needed, he made a list for it and then went out.

It was almost as if their lives had not changed one bit. He was very deep into demonic lore, a blond lock fell over his face though he didn't pay attention to anything other than the text, feeling it rather than seeing his hair splayed slightly in front of his eyes. Caleb jumped and the book closed as it fell to the floor, a loose page coming looser as the door flew open with a massive whoosh of air.

The gust carried Liam in like the wings of an owl.

"Caleb, I have something very important to say!" Liam yelled.

Caleb blinked, wide-eyed.

"What?" he practically yelled back. His heart knocked against his teeth.

"Salt was on sale at the quick mart," Liam said. He smiled.

Caleb's shoulders fell. He slumped, then went limp onto the headrest of the wooden bed.

"Not funny, Liam."

"It's not funny, you're right," Liam said nodding. "I am dead serious."

They both froze momentarily at the, normally figurative, expression.

"I didn't mean it like that," Liam added.

Caleb picked up his book and squinted at Liam, licking his finger to pull apart a certain page that he quickly found again after being so rudely interrupted over salt...

Salt.

"That actually is very important. We're going to need more salt."

Whether Liam realized it or not, he had just helped him with that bit of information, intentionally or not. Caleb stared up at him, squinting at him just as he had the mysterious text in the book.

Liam pulled at his shirt and looked away, never one to like the attention, unless it was for the express purpose of getting something or other. Then he would do anything to get it. It had worked on Caleb once before, and now they were together. Weren't they? It seemed that Liam did anything to actively avoid his attention now.

"What?" Liam asked.

"Nothing."

Caleb looked down and went back to reading. He didn't know how else to spend his time, or what he could do about it. Talking to Liam fell further down on his list the more he prioritized learning all the book had to offer, and the more determined he became to find out what happened. Liam really didn't remember a thing, so his input was about as good as his, he reasoned.

The text was thick and at first it was impossible for Caleb to understand. However, he was a fast learner. The Fódil had become more clear by the day; soon, he could read about half of what it said. The farther he buried his nose into the book, the more distracted he became.

Caleb remembered the first night that he walked into the bar. Schneider's Bar & Grille was not really a place to eat, so the latter half of the sign was just for show, but Caleb didn't care about that. All he wanted was a beer to take his mind off of his life, so any place would do. What he didn't know at the time was that he would be coming back for many nights after. His leg pressed against the stretcher beam that ran between the two legs of the barstool he sat.

The service bar was empty. He looked past the grainy, wooden table that circled around the double doors of the kitchen. There were small, rectangular windows in both doors. He peered into the glass, but it was that warped, thick kind that kept away any prying eyes.

Caleb wondered when he would ever get any service. There was nobody here, with the exception of an older man in a brown top hat sitting by the window in the booth seat. He let out a long sigh, stippling his fingers on the wood and looking up constantly at the round clock above the kitchen doors.

The time read 2 AM. Caleb could not sleep and the only cure for this was somehow to walk in the still-cold night in March. Caleb planted his one foot on the ground, swinging the other slowly as a puddle formed from the snow melted off of his shoes and onto the speckled floor. The lone lit bar which was a liminal space on its own, with the establishments around unfamiliar in the dark, reminded Caleb of the Edward Hopper painting, Nighthawks.

Even with the other man so close by, he had never been more solitary and alone.

The double doors opened just a crack, then a man with brown hair wearing an apron burst out all at once with a tray for some strange reason. There was no food in this establishment, at least there didn't seem to be. Caleb didn't smell anything cooking anyway, but as the man turned all of his thoughts went void as he looked into his grey, sparkling eyes as the man smiled back at him.

Did he imagine the look that had been exchanged? Was the man just eager to serve a customer, aside from one that looked half asleep in the booth and, now that Caleb looked closer, yes that was a homeless man just trying to get out of the cold. He was his only customer.

"What can I get you?" the man asked.

Then there was that smile, which the man quickly hid behind his hand.

"Uh, a beer is fine," Caleb said distantly.

"Sure thing."

Before he could blink the man turned around and took out a glass. He seemed so surreal, so different, but Caleb couldn't put his finger on why. It was as if his every word and action were pushed by some frantic force. He reminded Caleb a little bit of a bird, flitting from the glasses that he pulled from and filling one from the spigot, long elegant fingers sliding his beer across the table.

"Enjoy your drink!"

Caleb blinked and he was gone.

He stared down into his drink...

Did the man wink at him?