Chapter Five – Stephanie

 

I took a deep breath of the cool night air, savoring the feeling as it filled my lungs. Didn’t even matter that the smell of the trash went in right alongside it, either. I was just happy to be out from behind the bar for even a few minutes.

The light behind Stan & Sons barely illuminated the unpaved back of the bar, and the mountain sloped down into a nothingness of darkness and shadows. This wasn’t the city, with fancy alleyways and dumpsters. Or concrete. Instead, we had trashcans you needed to seal tightly against the possums and raccoons, and trees. Lots and lots of trees that stretched for miles and miles, far as the eye could see.

Of course, at this time of night, there was a fat chance you were going to see anything.

I finished emptying the trash and stood there for another long moment. I had some help inside, at least for the time being, but as I stood there with my hands on my lower back, I tried to steel myself for the rest of the beatdown that was coming.

In a small town like this, and an even smaller bar community, word got around when workers couldn’t come in, or when someone was stuck by themselves all night. Heather from Round Table had heard the call and stopped by a few minutes earlier as I’d served my umpteenth customer for the evening.

“Go!” she’d shouted as she slipped behind the bar and took the drink shaker out of my hand. “Get!”

I’d been more than happy to take her up on her offer, no matter how abrasive it had been, and took the opportunity to grab one of the already-overflowing trashcans on my way out back.

“God, this sucks,” I groaned to no one in particular. “But, guess it’s time to get back at it.”

I grabbed hold of the now-empty trashcan beside me, turned around, and went to grab the steel door I’d propped open with a heavy rock. Just as I grabbed the edge of the door and pulled it open, though, I stopped in my tracks.

I thought I’d heard something. Laughter, maybe?

No, laughter had mirth to it. Joy. This was more sinister-sounding.

I let go of the door, turned to my right. Down at my feet, the rock that had been keeping the door propped open rolled over, tumbling inside the back hallway of the bar.

I didn’t realize the door was swinging all the way shut till it had slammed closed, and the latch clicked into place. “Son of a bitch,” I said, slamming my fist into the door. “Come on! Heather!”

There it was again. This time, a little closer than before.

I stopped on the second strike of the door, and turned to face the noise.

A chuckling chortle, high-pitched and snickering, almost like a hyena, that seemed to cut through the rabble roaming up and down the busy streets of Camelot.

Down on the side of the building, where there was a little alleyway, a bottle shattered against a wall.

“Hello?” I called, trying to keep the unsettled feeling from creeping into my voice.

Instead of an answer, there was just more laughter. This time, though, there was something different to it. It was softer, but higher-pitched than before. More feminine, though that wasn’t the exact word I’d use to describe it.

My heart began to race, and I swallowed hard as I backed up against the door. “Hello?” I shouted again. “Hey! What’s going on over there?”

More laughter. More of that snickering.

“Hey!” I shouted, my mouth suddenly dry. “Who’re you? You’re not supposed to be back here! This is private property!”

“Just two more satisfied customers,” called back a voice as the footfalls of its owner came out of the concrete-covered alleyway and stepped onto the soft dirt and grass behind Stan & Sons. “Wanting to tip you in private.”

I recognized that voice. And I recognized the woman’s malicious-sounding laugh that followed hot on its heels. I licked my parched lips, every ridge and bump of them suddenly pronounced under the tip of my tongue. “J-j-just get out of here!” I said, trying to shout the words, but failing. “Leave! Before I call someone!”

“Call someone?” Centurion asked as he stepped up to the pool of yellow spilled by the bar’s rear bulb, the jaundiced light illuminating just his cheap sandals. He stood there, looming in the darkness like a shadow given life. Beside him stood his little toga-wearing girlfriend, her body pressed against his side like they were posing for a 70s action film poster. “Who you gonna call? Bill Murray, or Dan Akroyd?”

My heart was in my throat, beating like I was sitting down for a final in school and had forgotten to study the night before. Swallowing hard, I lunged towards the trashcan, stuck my hand in the top, and found an empty glass vodka bottle.

“Whatcha got there?” Centurion asked as his girl snickered.

I wrapped my fingers around the bottle’s cool, slick surface, drawing it out like a discarded sword from a trash stone. “I said to get out of here,” I hissed as I brought the bottle up, brandished it at waist level. “Now, get! Go!”

“Not until,” he said as he stepped into the light, “I get an apology from those lips of yours. One way or another.”

Instinctively, my eyes drifted down to his waist.

Clutched in his hand was his own weapon. A green beer bottle, its edge a mess of jagged, serrated shards. “I’ve got a million followers on Instagram, bitch,” he growled. “No one talks to me like that. No one.”

Suddenly, the crowds on Main Street seemed very far away, their hoots and hollers almost mocking me with how distant they were. All those people, young and full of life, partying their night away as they prepared for the festival scheduled for tomorrow.

And where was I? Trapped in this back alley with some fucking psycho talking about his social media accounts.

“No one talks to us like that,” agreed Toga Girl. “No one, ever.”

The broken bottle in his hand, though, wasn’t what was worrying. No, it was his eyes. They were those same cat eyes as before, that I’d seen in the bar for that briefest of moments while I was talking to the only normally-dressed patron in the place. Yellow and weird, like something from a feral animal. And, God, the way they peered out at me. Like I was just prey, nothing more than a piece of meat for the slaughter.

I stepped back, brought the bottle higher up in front of me. Maybe I couldn’t cut them with it, but I could at least get in a few licks if they decided to attack me. The bottle was heavy, almost comforting in its hefty weight, and I knew it would take more than a couple swings before it cracked.

Just like me.

“So, you gonna apologize,” he asked, his words sharp and flint-like, “or am I gonna have to make you?”

“Please say it’s the second one,” said Toga Girl with a giggle. “I want her to squeal.”

“Back the fuck off,” I growled, taking another step back, my heel hitting the metal door that led back inside. “I’m warning—”

“Hey!” called a man’s voice from the edge of the shadows. It was deep, resonant, and seemed to carry the weight of authority behind it.

Both of the partygoers stopped in their tracks as, right before my freaking eyes, their eyes shifted back to normal. Completely normal, except for the confusion and embarrassment buried inside them. The shattered bottle tumbled from Centurion’s hand, shards breaking from its ragged edge as it landed among the rocks and pebbles strewn over the packed dirt beneath our feet.

“We got a problem here?” asked the voice as he stepped into the lights.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and all the tension seemed to flow out of my body in one go, as I saw the face of my savior. The good-looking guy from earlier in the bar, the one I’d given a scotch, on the house.

“N-n-n—” mumbled Centurion as he and his girlfriend looked back and forth at each other, almost confused and shaken over why they were even back here with me.

“Why don’t you two just go,” he said, his question more an order as he took a step closer, his shoulders squared and his chin tucked in a little. One glance, and I knew he was a fighter. “Get out of here, and never come back.”

“Yeah,” Toga Girl said, all the ruthlessness and sadistic glee evaporated from her voice. “Babe, let’s go back to the hotel room, okay?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” the handsome stranger said. “Think you two have had enough. Don’t you?”

Centurion ran his fingers back through his styled hair, mussing the careful coiffing as he shook his head. “Yeah, I guess so.” He turned and looked right at me. “What’re we doing back here?”

“I don’t know,” I said, completely honestly. “I really don’t know.”

“Come on, babe,” Toga Girl said, reaching down to grab his hand that had, just a few short moments ago, been holding the broken-bottle-cum-shiv, “let’s go. Let’s get out of here, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Let’s go.”

And then they were leaving, without even an apology for the way they’d acted. As they stumbled through the shadows, making their way back to the alley, their retreating backs looked more like two frightened dogs with their tails between their legs than the menacing threats they’d been only moments before. The stranger turned and watched them go, like a shepherd dog watching two wolves disappear over a hill.

As they turned the corner, I breathed another sigh of relief. My fingers relaxed and lost their grip on the vodka bottle so it tumbled to the ground next to me with a crystalline thunk and the sound of pebbles scraping on glass. I brought a hand up to my mouth as I wrapped my other arm around my waist, hugging myself for dear life.

“Jesus Christ,” I said from behind my fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

The stranger turned back to me. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head and letting out a deep breath. “Yeah, thanks. Thanks for your help. I’m fine, just shaken up.”

“No problem.” He glanced back to the alley, turned back to me. “Kind of what I do.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “What the hell’s wrong with people these days?”

“No idea. Get that a lot during these festivals?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard,” I replied as I shoved off from the door and straightened up. “Thanks again.”

“Name’s Ryder, by the way. Ryder Williams.”

“Stephanie Kaufman.” I turned my head, looked out into the night. To the trees, the thick foliage that surrounded the town. The kind of wilderness that seemed to choke a place as small as Camelot, even as it brought life to everything around it.

“Kind of surprised you were out here,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and putting his weight on his back foot.

Something about his stance was just disarming. As much as this guy towered over my smaller frame, and as much as I somehow knew he was a born fighter, I felt safe with him. Even in this dark and deserted patch of Camelot’s nightlife, where only moments before I was a near-victim, I somehow felt at ease in his presence.

“Got someone watching the bar?” he asked, his words bringing me back into the moment.

I shook my head, blinked a couple times. “Yeah, someone from another bar came down to help,” I said with a wave as I looked up at his heavy features, at the shadows creased in his face from the sepia-toned overhead light. “What about you? What brings you back here?”

“Me?” he asked, a little half-smile cocked on his lips. “Saw those two leaving the bar, figured they were up to no good.”

I chuckled. “You a cop, or something?”

He shook his head, that half-smile turning into a full one. “Not really, no.” He shrugged. “Just trying to do the right thing, I guess.”

Smiling up at him, I nodded a little. The right thing? God, that was sweet. And, wow, those eyes of his. I could feel myself slipping into them like a warm bath on a cold night, the water just flowing over me as I sank lower and lower into its embrace. And speaking of embrace, I began to idly wonder what those strong arms of his would feel like…

Reality set in, though, and I remembered I needed to get back to work. That I was the only one responsible for Stan & Sons tonight, and there wasn’t any cavalry to call.

I shook my head, let out a long sigh.

His brows furrowed a little, and that little smile began to fade. “Everything okay?”

I waved him off. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” I jerked a shaky, nervous thumb back over my shoulder, even as my eyes returned right back to his. “I should probably get back inside, that’s all. Night’s still young, you know. No rest for the wicked.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Right.”

Eyes still on him, I reached back behind me and tried to grab the door handle, not even remembering that it was a fire exit, and I was locked out. My fingers flailed, grasped, hit nothing but flat steel. Something about those eyes of his, I just felt myself falling into them. The last thing I wanted was to break this connection we seemed to have.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I didn’t respond. All I could do was blush as I turned around, trying to find the handle. God, I couldn’t believe I’d just forgotten the door was locked.

“Everything okay?”

A sheepish grin on my face, I turned back to him, trying to cover the lack of door handle with my back as I did.

He craned his neck a little, looked just past me. “Locked out?”

I shrugged a little as my smile turned into a wince. “Maybe? You wouldn’t wanna escort a girl back through the alley, would you?”

Ryder chuckled. “I’m going back that way, anyways.”

Together, we headed towards the alley. As we stepped into the shadows, a vision of Centurion and Toga Girl’s eyes flashed before my mind, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Cold?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head in the darkness as, side by side, we walked through the knee-high grass. “I’m just…well, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.” He sounded no-nonsense and genuinely sincere, too.

I shook my head. No matter what I said, he’d definitely think I was crazy. Whatever I’d seen, it had just been a trick of the light. Or me getting sick, coming down with whatever had gotten hold of Christina and Jeff. That was all. People’s eyes didn’t change like that unless it was in the movies. Instead of my elaborating, we rounded the alley corner in silence.

“I was thinking—and believe me, I know this is out of left field—do you need any help tonight? I tended bar back in college, and clearly you need some help tonight.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Excuse me?” I asked as I turned to face him, to look up at those dreamy eyes of his.

“I was just wondering if you need some help, that’s all.”

I’m not sure what it was, but something about the question just rankled me and got my hackles up. I knew I’d needed help back in that alleyway, and that was appreciated. But the idea that he wanted to swoop in and help with my bar? That was just too much. It was my bar, the bar Mom had left me. I’d hired people to work, and those people were sick. This place was my responsibility, not anyone else’s.

Arms crossed over my chest, I took a step back. “You want to help me?” I asked, turning to look at the crowded street, with the droves of partygoers moving from Stan & Sons down to the Round Table. “Tend bar?”

He mirrored my action and took a step back, too, but kept his hands by his sides. “Just offering some help, that’s all. What happens if some people get rowdy again?”

I shook my head even though his words struck a chord. What was I going to do if the Centurion and his girl came back? Or if someone else did something stupid? Alcohol plus idiots has never, not once in the history of the world, been a good combination. In previous years, we’d never really had a problem.

Of course, in previous years, we hadn’t ever had this big of a crowd. It had mostly been families and ghost watchers, not rowdy college-aged students looking to see some bands and experience some ghosts along the way.

“Well?” he asked. “What do you say?”

Still unsure, I looked him up and down.

He was pretty big, and definitely imposing. Clearly Centurion hadn’t wanted to meet him in a dark alley.

Maybe I could work with that? “Tell you what,” I said, planting a fist on my hip as I cocked it out to the side, “why don’t you watch my back tonight?”

He blinked slowly, those thick lashes of his fluttering a little. “Excuse me?”

I bit my lip as I looked away. “Security. I need that more than I need another bartender. Just someone to watch this rowdy crowd tonight. Okay?”

He scratched the back of his head as he looked out towards the street, to another passing group of drunks. He turned back to me, gave another flash of perfect teeth. “Yeah, I guess I can do that.”

“Good,” I said with a nod as my hand shot out between us. “Shake on it?”

“Absolutely.”