Present Day

  It was packed for a Tuesday night. The floor was sticky, cigarette smoke left a thick cloud above the customers' heads, and a steady stream of classic rock was being injected into the small room by an old and worn down jukebox. One of the patrons drummed his stubby fingers against the counter impatiently, his long fingernails scraping against it with each rhythmic 'tap'.

  "Mark it and you're buying me a new one." The bartender scolded. She had a thick Brooklyn accent, which wasn't uncommon in New York, but hearing it from a six-foot tall woman with arms thick as tree trunks...well, that was a first for him. She looked immovable, like a bronze statue, with olive skin and dark brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail.

  Her faded gray shirt was short-sleeved, exposing forearms corded with muscle, and tucked loosely into a pair of worn jeans.

  She looked like she might kick his ass right off his body if he so much as scratched the counter. He moved his fingers away, trying to make it seem like it had nothing to do with how she was glaring at him. It did, though. Her eyes were almost pitch black. It was like staring into an endless void.

  He seemed to shrug the unnerving thought away and laughed. "Shit. How's the weather up there, Gulliver?"

  "Gulliver? Who the fuck's Gulliver?"

  "You know, Gulliver's Travels. The movie with that guy in it, Jack Black, about that big guy that got tied up by all the little guys on that island full of little...guys?"

  The barkeep crossed her arms and her expression shifted to one of mild irritation. "Hilarious. Now, what the fuck do you want?"

  "Well, what do you have?"

  She scoffed, gesturing to the wall of bottles lined behind her. "Alcohol."

  "Well, yeah obviously. I mean, what kind of alcohol?"

  The bartender jerked her arm again towards the bottles, a little more forcefully this time.

  "N-No...that's not what I meant," He replied, flustered. "Wine. I heard you have some good shit. Not sold anywhere else."

  The bartender slowly dropped her arm and leaned across the counter. "Where'd you hear that?"

  "A friend."

  "Yeah, I figured. Which 'friend'?"

  He hesitated, but only for a moment. "Dominic."

  She scowled. It made her eyes look even darker. "Fucking asshole. Fine. How do you like your wine? Sweet or dry?"

  The patron smiled, relief loosening his tense posture. "Surprise me."

  The bartender pushed herself away from the counter and started towards the splintered door behind the bar. It led to a room roughly the same size as the bar, but this one was piled high with boxes and wooden kegs.

  In the uppermost corner, a young man could be seen rummaging through one of the boxes. He had thick red hair and skin so pale that it almost looked translucent. Pinned to his white Polo shirt was a nametag with the name 'Leo' in bold font. He was the only one that could be bothered enough to wear it.

  "Oh, Di. Sorry, I was just gettin' more bourbon." He grabbed a bottle from the box and scanned the label. "Just so you know, the kegs are empty again."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yeah, deadass," he replied, jumping back up with the bottle still clutched in his hand.

  Di sighed. She probably should have been pleased that her wine was selling so much quicker than usual, but it wasn't technically legal to be brewing her own. She had a licence to sell alcohol, not make it.

  "It's fucking Dominic," Di grumbled. "He can't keep his mouth shut."

  "Yeah, but he's loaded so he doesn't have to." Leo smiled nonchalantly as he passed Di at the door. "Happy to kick him out the next time he shows up though, Boss."

  Di shook her head. "I'll handle it."

  "Suit yourself," he replied, letting the door squeak shut behind him.

  Di sighed in frustration and grabbed a large wine glass from a very unstable looking cabinet. She had been meaning to replace it, but if it hadn't completely fallen apart yet she figured she shouldn't give up on it either. In other words, she couldn't have been bothered, which was a good enough excuse in her eyes.

  After checking that Leo had actually been right about the empty kegs, Di took the glass over to the sink and filled it a little over halfway with cold water. She swirled the glass in her hand, and a small whirlpool spun to life in the clear liquid. It splashed against the sides of the glass, with small drops cascading off the rim and colouring the floor a dark red. In fact, the transparent colour inside the glass had turned the same shade of crimson. The room smelt of grapes with an understated earthly aroma.

  Di returned to the patron, much to her dismay, and handed him the glass of wine.

  The man eyed it sceptically, his nose scrunching in disapproval. He took a small sip and let it sit in his mouth for a few moments, swishing it from cheek to cheek like mouthwash before finally swallowing it. Silence.

  Then, in a sudden flurry of movement, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, brown wallet. He rummaged inside, took out a fifty dollar bill, and slammed it onto the counter.

  "That's some good shit!" He grinned and took the rest of his glass to a table at the back of the bar.

  Another flood of people entered the bar but Leo seemed to have a tight handle on the orders. He was quick and efficient, which was why Di had hired him in the first place, but he was also friendly enough to the customers that there weren't many complaints. At least, none that Di cared about.

  "You just sell more wine? I thought we were out..." Leo said, passing an overflowing pint of beer to a customer.

  "You were wrong, but that's nothing new."

  Leo turned to face her and scoffed. "Okay, respectfully, fuck that. I checked every keg at least three times."

  Di shrugged. "You must've missed one."

  "That's the thing though, I fuckin' didn't! You know what? I know what's goin' on here." Leo poked an accusing finger into her shoulder. "You're hidin' the good shit from me."

  "Why would I do that?" She almost sounded amused as she whacked his hand away.

  "The tips, man. They tip like crazy for that wine, and you know it."

  "I don't need extra tips, Leo."

  "Exactly!" Leo threw his hands up in exasperation. "You own this dump, so stop hoggin' all the fat tippers."

  Di sighed. "You done?"

  He paused for barely a second, as if he were giving this question some serious thought, then he straightened his back and replied flatly. "No. You know another thing that's been botherin' the fuck outta me is how you-"

  Di willingly tuned Leo out until his voice was nothing but white noise, mixing with those of the other patrons. The door swung open at the far end of the room, and Di was pleasantly surprised by the distraction that walked in. A woman, devastatingly beautiful, with thick black curls almost as dark as her skin and eyes like onyx. As she moved towards an empty booth, Di could see that she had a guitar case slung over her shoulder.

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  "Hey! You even listenin'?" Leo stepped in front of her, blocking her view.

  "Yeah, I got the gist. Now move it." Di placed a hand on Leo's head and shoved it away, hearing the frenzied stumble of feet as he tried to catch his balance.

  "What was that for?" The bartender whined. When Di didn't look at him, he followed her gaze and sighed. "For fuck's sake, are you serious right now? You can't keep sleeping with every half-attractive person that comes through! This is a place of business, man, not a stinkin' brothel!"

  "It's mine. I can do whatever I want."

  "No. Absolutely not. I won't fucking let you do this to me again. We still got four hours til close. You expect me to run this shit by myself?"

  Di finally glanced over at Leo, whose face was starting to turn a shade to rival his hair. She smiled mischievously and patted his shoulder. "That's what I pay you for, bud."

  Leo was still fuming when Di left the counter and sauntered towards the musician, who had found an empty table in the back corner of the bar. She carefully placed her guitar case on the seat beside her and glanced up at Di curiously.

  "What're you having?" The bartender asked.

  "That depends." She laced her fingers together, briefly exposing small calluses on the tips, then rested her chin on top of her hands. "What would you suggest?"

  "They say the wine's good, if you like that sort of thing."

  "And who's 'they', exactly?" The musician smiled playfully.

  "Me. I say that." Di smiled back, her lips curving with a hint of mischief.

  She slid effortlessly into the seat across from the musician, her gaze briefly flicking to her hands. They were a musician's hands with strong fingers that moved with an easy grace, tapping out a rhythm on the table as if playing an invisible tune.

  Di's eyes lingered on them for a second longer than necessary before meeting the woman's gaze. "So, what's your name?"

  "Erin," she replied. "And you are?"

  "Di."

  "Di? Short for Diana?"

  Di hesitated for just a heartbeat, a flicker of discomfort crossing her features before she masked it with a casual shrug. “Yeah, sure.”

  Erin leaned back in her seat, the corner of her mouth curling into a playful smile. “Diana, huh? Well, what do you think about giving me a gig here?”

  “A gig? You want to play here?”

  Erin shrugged, her tone nonchalant but with an edge of confidence. “Yeah. I’m good. I know how to get a crowd going. Bet I could get a few more drinks flowing around here.”

  Di snorted, rolling her eyes. “Live music? I got the jukebox, and it works just fine.”

  Erin didn’t flinch, only leaned in a little closer, her smile still easy but full of certainty. “Yeah, the jukebox is fine, but it’s not the same. People love a good live show. I bet you’d sell a lot more alcohol if they were watching someone actually play.”

  Di considered it for a second, then shook her head. “I don’t know about that. People come here for drinks, not a concert.”

  “You’d be surprised. Live music pulls people in. They stay longer, grab another drink, and before you know it, you’re raking it in.”

  Di let out a low chuckle, the skepticism in her voice still clear. “And you think you’re gonna be the one to pull all that off?”

  “Why not? I’ve done it before. I bring the crowd.”

  Di tilted her head, studying Erin. She wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something in Erin’s confidence that made Di pause, if only for a second. She sighed, half-amused, half-annoyed. “Alright, fine. I’ll give you a shot, but only ‘cause I want to see you again.”

  “Oh, well I’m flattered, Diana. I’d say we should talk details about this gig of mine, but…” Her dark eyes flicked to the bar, teeming with people. “Seems a little crowded in here for that, don’t you think?”

  Di smirked, letting the silence stretch between them just long enough to savor it before replying. “You know, you’re right, maybe I should show you where we store our wine.”

  Erin bit her lip like she was trying to suppress a laugh, but she rose to her feet without hesitation, grabbing her guitar case. "Oh? That sounds...educational."

  Di led her over to the bar, where Leo had his hands on his hips, looking every bit like a furious mother about to lecture a reckless kid.

  Di ignored him.

  Leo, on the other hand, did not ignore her.

  He let out a long, suffering sigh. "Really?"

  Di barely glanced over her shoulder at him. "Yeah."

  "Again?"

  "Mmhm."

  Leo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Di, it's fucking packed..."

  "And?"

  "And you own this place."

  "And?"

  Leo's eye twitched. "Unbelievable... You know what? I'm demanding a raise."

  "Demanding? Big word for you."

  "I mean it this time. I ain't comin' in tomorrow unless I get paid more."

  "You already get paid more than any other bartender in the city."

  Leo crossed his arms and huffed. "Still not enough to deal with your shit."

  Erin, watching the exchange with open amusement, raised an eyebrow. "You're a real dedicated boss, huh?"

  Di only grinned, slipping a hand onto the small of Erin's back as she guided her toward the back room. "I work hard. I deserve a break."

  "You barely work at all..." Leo snorted.

  Di held the door open for Erin. "Don't bother locking up tonight, I can do it when I leave."

  Leo muttered something under his breath, already turning to deal with the next wave of customers as Di followed Erin inside.

  The door swung shut behind them with a dull thud, muffling the noise from the bar.

  Erin set her guitar case down and let her gaze sweep over the shelves, the kegs, the faint scent of oak and alcohol in the air.

  "So," she murmured, stepping closer, "this where you keep the good stuff?"

  Di leaned casually against a shelf, arms crossing over her chest. "Something like that."

  Erin's lips curled in a slow, playful smile. "Think you'll let me have a taste?"

  Di chuckled, the sound low and easy. "I think I can do that."

  Erin took another slow step forward, closing the space between them until she was just a breath away. Her gaze flickered down to Di's mouth, lingering, before she reached up and ran a single finger along her bottom lip. Her touch was light, teasing.

  "How generous of you," she murmured.

  Di's smirk widened just a little. She didn't waste time playing coy. Instead, she reached out, gripping Erin's waist and pulling her flush against her. The movement was firm, effortless, like she'd already decided exactly how this was going to go.

  Erin's breath was warm against her lips before Di finally closed the distance, kissing her deep and slow.

  Erin exhaled sharply through her nose, melting into it. Her fingers slid up Di's arms, over the firm muscle beneath her shirt, before trailing up to her hair. She grabbed a handful of the thick ponytail, twisting her fingers into it.

  Di hummed in approval. She shifted, pressing Erin back against the nearest stack of crates. The wood creaked slightly, but neither of them cared. Di's hands roamed, exploring the curves of Erin's hips before gripping them tight, her fingers digging in just enough to make Erin gasp against her lips.

  Erin grinned, tugging lightly at Di's ponytail. "You always this eager?"

  Di smirked, her grip tightening on Erin's waist. "You complaining?"

  Erin laughed softly, shaking her head. "No."

  Di didn't give her a chance to say anything else. She kissed her again, harder that time, hands sliding lower as she pressed Erin even closer.

  Then it hit her, as sudden as lightning.

  Something was wrong.

  The thought barely formed in Di's mind before it started slipping away, lost in the warmth curling through her veins. She felt light, too light. A pleasant sort of haze settled over her thoughts, making everything feel slow, dreamlike. Her grip on Erin's hips loosened as a strange sensation washed over her. Calm. Euphoria. Like every bad thing she'd ever carried with her had been stripped away in an instant.

  Di had been drunk plenty of times before. She'd been high, too. This was neither. This was something else entirely.

  She wasn't an idiot.

  Her body might've wanted to sink into the feeling, to let it pull her under, but her mind screamed at her to snap the fuck out of it. She wasn't some wide-eyed idiot getting lost in the moment. She knew when something wasn't right.

  Di pushed the feeling down, forced herself to move, to act, before she lost the will to. In one sharp motion, she wrenched herself back and grabbed Erin by the throat.

  "What are you?" Di's voice was steady, sharp, but there was a tightness in her chest that she couldn't ignore. The room still felt off, warmer, brighter, like reality itself was warping around them.

  Erin didn't flinch. If anything, she looked pleased.

  Before she could answer, a deep, booming sound erupted through the bar, shaking the walls like an earthquake. The crates around them rattled, bottles clinking together dangerously. Dust rained down from the ceiling as the floor beneath them trembled.

  Erin smiled, utterly unbothered. Her dark eyes gleamed with something almost playful as she tilted her head, still perfectly at ease despite Di's grip around her throat. "You should probably go deal with that."

  Di's fingers flexed around Erin's throat, unwilling to let go, unwilling to walk away without answers...but the ground lurched again, and the sound that followed wasn't thunder, wasn't anything natural. It was heavy, like something massive shifting, something alive.

  She released Erin with a sharp exhale, her jaw tight. Erin just smiled, rubbing her throat lightly.

  Di turned without another word and threw the door open.

  The second she stepped back into the bar, she knew shit had really hit the fan.

  Patrons were scrambling, knocking over stools as they dove under tables. Glass shattered somewhere near the jukebox. The hanging lights above swayed dangerously, flickering in and out.

  Behind the bar, Leo clung to two very expensive bottles of whiskey, his knuckles white as he braced himself against the counter.

  "WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!" he shouted over the chaos.

  BOOM.

  The floor quaked hard enough to send plates and glasses flying. Someone screamed. The pounding grew louder, heavier, rhythmic. Like something massive was moving just outside the bar.

  Bang.

  The walls shook. A few lights blew out, plunging half the room into flickering darkness.

  And then...something else. A deep, guttural huff. Not human. Not normal.

  Di barely had time to process it before the wall exploded inward.

  Wood splintered. Bricks cracked and caved. Dust filled the air in a suffocating cloud.

  And standing there, framed by the wreckage, was a monster.

  It was massive. Easily nine feet tall, its hulking form covered in thick, coarse fur the color of dried blood. Muscles rippled beneath its skin as it heaved slow, heavy breaths. Its legs were shaped like a bull's, ending in cracked hooves that left deep impressions in the debris. Its hands were the size of dinner plates, fingers ending in jagged, blackened claws.

  But it was the head that made Di's stomach twist.

  A bull's, broad and brutal, with two curved horns that nearly scraped the ceiling. Its nostrils flared as it inhaled, breath fogging the air. Deep-set eyes, so dark they seemed to absorb all light, locked onto her.

  It let out a deep, rumbling exhale. Then it snorted, shaking its massive head, sending dust and debris flying.

  Di stared.

  Then, flatly, she said, "Fuck."