Alex in Wunderstrande: The Clairvoyance Clock [BOOK ONE]

Chapter IV: Midnight Visitors

Despite Uncle claiming he had absolutely no idea what the message from the PenArrow meant, he acted peculiar for the remainder of the day. He blazed through the rest of his appointments half-heartedly and spent the time in between pacing around the presentation hall. I eventually became bored with his silence so after the end of my shift, I wandered off to MacMurray's Pub.

I slipped into one of the leather booths near the large front windows, giving me the perfect vantage point of Main Street. While Lancaster's nighttime streets lay silent besides the humming of gas lamps and rumbling of motor carriages, the pub buzzed with activity. Servers expertly maneuvered around guests, tables, and chairs to deliver mugs of beer and steaming hot food from the kitchen. Pub regulars laughed boisterously and joked with each other and their favorite bartenders. A small group of musicians played a hearty tune from a tiny wooden platform near the center of the room, which soon transformed into a drunken rendition of the song I'd heard one too many times.

"Staaaaay sharp, staaaaay alert, hold your head up hiiiiiigggghhhh!"

Most of the time, MacMurray's Pub was my sweet escape; I could walk through the doors unnoticed and blend in with the crowd. But despite the lighthearted banter from the more intoxicated individuals, a good percentage of the pub goers were still sober. Tense. Brooding. Several pairs of eyes scrutinized me. I thoroughly blamed the stony glances on the rotten article in the morning's paper.

"I hear them Wunderstrandians wanna go attackin' us when we ain't expectin' it," said one bald man who had finally stopped staring at me long enough to re-engage into his table's conversation. "Reckon they wanna seek revenge on the good general."

"Nah, they'd never," growled his friend, noisily slurping the froth atop his beer. The Great Northern Forest is crawlin' with Watchers to keep 'em at bay. Them dirty bastards'll never have a chance."

Another man at the table stroked his thin mustache. "Sure. But if they do manage to get past the guard, I personally hope they eat that snot-nosed nephew of his. Show his lazy ass a lesson."

I slumped deeper into my booth.

"Wunderstrandians ain't cannibals," muttered the bald man. "Are they?"

"O' course they are!" answered the noisy drinker. "Why do you reckon half our soldiers came back with no arms an' legs?

"The usual?"

Starting in surprise, I realized I'd been so caught up in the absurd exchange that I didn't notice Lili, one of the waitresses of MacMurray's, patiently waiting for my order.

"A cream ale would be great."

"Excellent!" Lili answered jubilantly, her painted red lips in a permanent smile. She tucked away her parchment pad and fountain pen in her apron pocket without writing anything. "How's your Uncle?"