The Ring

Chapter 1: Clara

The deadbolt clunks into place and I sigh with relief. Another day done, my responsibilities and time no longer subject to someone else's whims, I can finally go home.

Finally is about right. The clock is fast approaching three am. Thankfully, I didn't have to enlist Giorgio to escort anyone out the door at last call and the few remaining regulars had left with murmured pleasantries before weaving into the night in search of further entertainment.

You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

I smile. I truly enjoy my job as a bartender in what has to be one of the weirdest neighborhoods I've ever stumbled over. Even though this has been a quiet night, relatively speaking, it doesn't change the fact that I'm a regular, normal, ordinary human, slinging whiskeys for the most outlandish crew of supernatural beings this side of Jersey.

Getting this job had been a mistake—no, I correct myself. Not a mistake. A fortuitous error. How was I to know that the ad I answered came from a pocket dimension? It certainly explained the waves of lightheaded disorientation I feel every time I step around the corner into the alley that leads to the cobblestone street of the quaint little village my tavern exists in.

I've never explored beyond the tiny street with its archaic architecture of Tudor-style buildings and gingerbread trimmings in a mishmash of conflicting eras and styles. Truth be told, I still have massive amounts of apprehension just walking the fifty yards from the front door of the Artificer's Jug to the shimmery barrier into my world. I've encountered enough things that go bump in the night to make me wary, especially after I first started here.

If it hadn't been for Giorgio and the owner, Max, I wouldn't have ever come back. But they keep me safe and happy, and I've gotten used to the rough crowd.

Those last few yards and hurried steps always lead to a tight chest and quick breaths until I'm safely on my modern, human, street; populated with normal, human, homeless people, and average, perfectly ordinary, human sex workers.

There's comfort in the mundanity of humans.

Still, I wouldn't trade the eclectic group of vampires, shifters, mages, and demons that frequent my bar for a million dollars. I have to chuckle. I've only been there a year, but I definitely consider it my bar. The only discomfort I ever feel any more is that solitary walk out. And that's just from bad associations.

Giorgio usually walks me home, well, at least to the barrier. He can't actually go any further than that. For whatever reason, this particular portal is for "humans only." Honestly, I don't know how it all works. And you can't just stumble through either. There's a dude who sits five feet to the left of this exact portal on the human side every single day and he's never accidentally fallen through even though I pop out of it every day at the same time.

Giorgio still always asks if I need a further escort, because he's awesome like that and would figure out a way into the human world if he thought it would help keep me safe. I always decline and he rolls his large, expressive eye with a smirk. "Such a brave little human," and then ruffles my hair.

He's a good guy, for a cyclops. He ducked out a few minutes early tonight, apparently for a hot date. Since it was just a couple of regulars and no one had been rowdy all night, I felt perfectly fine with shooing him out the door, demanding details tomorrow.

His eyebrow bounced and he grinned. "A gentleman never tells, Clara."

"Oh good," I teased. "I'd never get the story if you were one of those."

He gave a roguish laugh and left me to sweep, mop, and set things up for the next day on my own. I really don't mind. We run a tight ship at the Artificer and so clean up is generally easy enough.