Storm of Evil

EMILIE

  EMILIE

  [Four months ago]

  It was going to be another late night at På Tykk. I walked down the bright lit streets, crossing my arms tightly around my frame to warm up as the blistering cold wind blew relentlessly. Sometimes, I really wished I owned a car...and had a licence, for that matter. I blew out a breath of frosty air, the feeling in my nose basically gone. I don't get paid enough for the effort I put in to just to get to this fucking place.

 

  I finally arrived, entering through the back, as my boss hated me going through the front out of uniform. Luckily, it was a family pub business, so I knew the boss quite well. I got changed into uniform, tied my hair up and sighed. Here comes another night.

  * *

  "Hiya," a deep and audibly pleasing voice spoke behind me said as I restored clean glasses onto the shelves and replaced a bottle of whiskey that had run out. I let out a small breath as I screwed on the top...wrong.

  "Just a second," I replied, ready to smash the thing if this lid kept going on unevenly. Finally though, it caught and I quickly put it back and turned around, only to come face to face with a rather gorgeous guy with long chestnut hair. He had pointed features, pale skin and unusual coloured eyes that were light brown with distinct gold flecks in them. His lips were kissably pink and pulled into a slight smirk/smile, a slight stubble around his mouth and his jaw.

  Dressed all in black, with a Celtic Frost sweater and black jeans that had nearly faded to grey, I instantly thought of the other individuals I knew dressed like that.

  ...Wow...just wow. Why are they always so attractive?!

  I cleared my throat after a bit of a long while of staring and guided my eyes away from his perfect features. Still have a job to do after all...

  "What can I get you?" I asked, finally looking back at him. He was still looking at me with that smile on his face. One that was a little curious; almost like he knew something I didn't.

  "Hmm, what's on tap?"

  I shrugged.

  "Well, the Becks has been popular," I replied, not sure what else to say. He made a slight cringe.

  "German beer. Mm...well what other imports do you recommend?" he asked. Okay, so...not German?

  "Well," I started, "Bottled?"

  "Sure," he replied with a slight nod.

  "A popular one is the Heineken," I suggested. He nodded with a look of consideration.

  "Sounds good. I'll take four."

  "Sure thing," I replied, fetching them and placing them on the counter. He paid for them, telling me to keep the change. I watched as he winked at me before turning around with his bottles and going to sit with some other guys, dressed similarly. I recognised one of them as he made very brief eye contact and nodded in acknowledgment, making my heart stop ever so slightly. Varg.

   * *

  It was a long night, but the end eventually finally came to when the clock itched closer towards the 3:15 mark. I'd wiped down the tables, and everyone had gone home. Locking doors, I bid my boss goodnight as he tallied up the last of the ordered supplies.

  "Favel," I waved and he waved back with a smile and a nod. I tightened my jacket around my body as I walked back into the blistering cold, bright lit street, barely alive with few cars.