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Viv opened her mouth—then hesitated. 

On the one hand, she did want to meet the band. They seemed cool, and she’d never met a sidhe before, and there had to be some kind of bragging rights in getting to meet what was obviously a popular local band. And it sounded as if someone was hurt back there—if so, maybe she could help. She didn’t have magical healing skills, but she was first aid certified.   

On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she should be intruding in other people’s business, and it might be nice to use her win to make herself popular in the neighbourhood. Earn some friends, soothe anyone’s hurt feelings at her win. Plus, it would distract the pub crowd from whatever was going on backstage. But when she’d been told the prize level, it was things like ‘a gift card’ or ‘A free night of food and drinks’. Would a round of drinks on a fairly busy night be too big an ask anyway?

“Well?” Susan glanced over her shoulder again, then beamed at Viv. “Hurry, hurry! What’s your boon?”

Maybe she could just explain her train of thought. She didn’t want the crowd to think she was sucking up, or get them hyped up only to be told they weren’t getting their drinks after all, but…

“Do I have to say it aloud?” Viv asked. “Can I whisper it to you?”

“Oooh, scandalous!” Susan chirped. “That’s fine, secret boons are hella fun and everyone likes the mystery! Come on up here!”

Several people patted Viv’s back as she headed up from the bar to the stage, congratulations and teasing jokes following her. She had to duck down to Susan, despite her own short height; Susan was no taller than 4’5″. She smelled of fall leaves, and, up close, Viv could see that her hair curled like fern leaves as she tucked it behind one pointed ear.

Viv mumbled an explanation. She wasn’t sure how coherent it was; she felt like she was tripping over her want to meet them and her want to help with the situation and her not sure if the value is too high, but Susan just nodded along as Vivian laid out both her thoughts and her uncertainties about them.

“So selfless,” Susan said teasingly, pitched just for her, and then spun to face the pub crowd, spreading her arms. “Guess what? Our new friend and yours, Miss Pumpkinhair, has bought you all a round on the house!”

The cheer that went up was deafening as the crowd turned to swarm the bar, nearly as one. Viv tried not to feel disappointed; it was something she’d wanted to do, and really, whatever was going on backstage was none of her business— 

Susan’s bark-rough hand slid into hers. “Come on,” she whispered. “While they’re busy.”

For a moment, Viv was actually confused. It shouldn’t be possible that she got both—they seemed like such different wishes. But perhaps they were one and the same; in both cases, her desire had been to help with the situation, whether by distraction or by offering up her skills. If helping was just the boon, both outcomes would actually apply.

Led by Susan, Viv was tugged into the back room. It was, as she’d suspected, distinct from the kitchen; a backstage area with exposed beams, full of equipment and some couches that appeared to have been salvaged from street corners. There were doors off into the kitchen, employee bathrooms, and what she supposed was a dressing room—as well as a back door into the alley behind the pub, which she could identify clearly because it stood open.

The Merry Gentry band was gathered around someone on the floor; all Viv could make out was what looked like a heavy ashy gray cloak covering whoever it was.

“Hey, this patron says she’s first aid certified!” Susan said. “Have you called the ambulance?!”

“They say they don’t want one,” Dandelion said, looking up. “The kitchen’s called for a healer, should we cancel—”

Viv’s heart was pounding, the vagueness of someone else’s problem abruptly resolved into wait, this is my responsibility now. “No, definitely you want to send a healer, I’m not a professional. Certification just lets us help until the real healers show up…!” She let go of Susan’s hand as the pounding of her blood through her body drove her forward to the fallen person’s side.

In any other circumstances, she’d have never dared just shove in next to one of the sidhe, but here she was doing just that, sliding on her knees to where Dandelion held the person’s hand, equally gray where it showed under the cloak. The haze of the cider was gone now, either adrenaline or her own natural magic pushing it away out of necessity.

Viv ran through first aid steps in her mind. Check the scene and the person. Whatever had caused this person to collapse didn’t seem to have happened here; judging from what she’d heard and from the still-open back door, they’d made it in here after fleeing something else, and had collapsed on reaching safety. There was no visible blood, though she’d have to pull their cloak back to confirm that there weren’t other visible injuries. 

She still didn’t see blood, but there was no point in taking risks. “Get me gloves and a first aid kit,” Viv told the closest person, who turned out to still be Dandelion. He put the injured person’s hand down, and simply went over to the kitchen to do so.

The moment the gloves were handed to her, she snapped them on, then gently picked the cloak up and pushed it back; it felt slightly dusty to the touch in a way that seemed somewhat familiar, but which she couldn’t quite place.

The person underneath was androgynous and beautiful; feminine at first glance, but with a lean, angular form. They had long, feathery white hair with zigzags of brown running through, like a chocolate design on vanilla icing; on closer look, their hair matched their cloak, which also had those streaks, though half their cloak was darker than the other half. Their face was pale, almost pure white, and quite round; ashen lashes half-covered eyes that appeared to be solid black. Thin brown antennae sprouted from their brow. They were wearing what was either a gray gown or a robe; Viv wasn’t sure which, not with them on the floor tangled up in it, their long limbs akimbo. There was no visible bruising, despite how they had clearly collapsed.

The injured person’s eyes were open enough that the next thing she should do was check if they were responsive. “Hi,” Viv said gently. “My name’s Vivian Dormer. I’m first aid certified, level one. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay, all right?”

“Is there anything we should do?” the satyr drummer asked.

“Give us some space,” Viv said. “Don’t move anything.” She turned back to the fallen person. “Can you understand me?”

A tubelike tongue wet their lips. “Uh… huh-huh.”

“Okay, good, that’s great. I’m just going to check you over while we wait for the healer to get here,” Viv said. She put her fingers to their neck. “What’s your name?”

“Thy… Thysa—”

“That’s Thysania,” Dandelion said. “The White Witch. They were supposed to be our opening act.”

“Thanks,” Viv said. She kept her eyes focused on Thysania. Their pulse felt fine. There was no way to check if they had diluted pupils, so she just focused her magic to try to sense Thysania’s magic, what kind of life force was moving through them. It felt weakened—wrong. Like something had drained half of it away. “What happened, Thysania?”

Their voice was soft and high. “Attacked. At home. The light… the light.”

“The light?” Viv focused on her own magic, pushing it gently out of her and into Thysania. She couldn’t heal them with it, but she could at least replenish their magical stores and help keep them from running out.

Thysania sucked a breath in. “I know you,” they said abruptly, eyes widening.

“What—”

A new person entered the room—an older-looking and worried witch, carrying an old-fashioned medical bag. He felt powerful, even just from looking at him. “Let me through, I’m the healer,” he said, coming over and kneeling beside Viv. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem,” Viv said. “Their energy is really low. I tried to transfer but I’m not very strong.”

The healer gave her a quick smile, though his gaze was focused on the fallen figure. “I’m sure it helped. Thysania, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Thysania said. They seemed to be staring at Viv still, and she got a small, uncomfortable chill.

“Okay,” Viv said. She rose abruptly, rubbing her gloved fingers against each other. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“Thanks, that’d be best—”

“No,” Thysania said. Their voice hiccuped. “Stay. Stay.”

“Thys, you have to let Isaac have the space he needs to work,” Dandelion said. He gave Viv a rueful, elegant smile. “Come, let’s give them room. I’d be happy to talk with you while we wait?”

Isaac had taken Thysania’s hand; a glow was passing between them, a strong and powerful will guiding his healing spell in.

“But—” Thysania groaned. Their eyes closed.

This was right, Viv knew. She’d done her part; any more was just interfering with the healer’s work.

But still she hesitated, Thysania’s plea echoing in her ears.

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No, Viv decided, she was being silly, thinking about chasing after Varsha. Varsha worked here, so she’d definitely be back later. There wasn’t anything urgent in Viv’s life right now anyway; no point in leaving now to get information about… what? Power outages? The neighbourhood? 

Nothing important.

In fact, every other place she could go tonight could wait too. The neighbourhood would be around later. She might as well have a second drink and enjoy her night.

Thus decided, she ordered another cider from the gargoyle bartender, and turned back to the stage, watching the dryad Susan working up the crowd.

“So,” Susan chirped, “here’s how it works! We pick a category, and the first person with their hand up gets to answer! We tally it as we go and by the end of trivia time, the person with the most right answers gets a reasonable boon from the Good Neighbours pub. Perhaps it’s free drinks or meals for a night! A gift card! Some of our merch! A chance to meet some of the performers backstage! Some fairy gold! Or something else of similar value—you get to pick the boon, and as long as it is a reasonable exchange for one night’s win, we will give it to you. However, the player with the highest number of wrong answers? Well, you’ll owe us a boon of equal value, and that boon will be our choice. So if you play once, you’d better keep playing—at least until someone gets more wrong answers than you. Keep in mind that one right answer cancels out one wrong answer, and vice versa—it’s all checks and balances. High risk, high reward, am I right?”

The crowd cheered. Viv took the drink that was handed to her and sipped, watching thoughtfully. Behind Susan, the Merry Gentry band had put their instruments down and were heading into the back room next to the kitchen, and even though she’d never heard of them before today, she was tempted to see if she could win to meet the band, because—why not? Bragging rights, maybe?

On the one hand, it was dangerous. Losing would mean owing a boon to the fair folk, and, she had to remind herself, for all their sweet talk, they could be as dangerous to bargain with as demons were.

But on the other hand, according to the rules, it was all checks and balances. She could listen and only answer if she was sure she was right. Just listening might get her more information, and playing a little, if she was careful, would mean she just didn’t win, not that she’d lose.

She put her glass on the bar and doodled in the condensation, drawing a line across the top. It wasn’t exactly cheating to use divination—it couldn’t give her any actual answers. But it could help her decide between two answers she was torn on.

“Our theme this week is… Halloween Media! Horror movies, spooky stories, local legends!”

Viv perked up even more. She loved spooky stories, and was a huge nerd for horror movies. Maybe she had a chance here. Sure, she couldn’t answer any questions about local legends—but sitting those questions out would still let her learn more about the city. Win-win. 

“First question… At the Theatre of Dreams, Lithway is currently performing a play they said was inspired by some secret shadowfolk lore. What’s it called?”

Oh! Viv’s eyes widened. She’d just been googling the Theatre of Dreams this evening, and had seen it on her search. What was it again, The Anglerfish’s Light or…

The condensation was dripping down the right side of the line a little faster than the left. Her hand shot up.

“Lil miss pumpkinhair at the bar! Yeah, you, the human!”

Susan was looking right at Viv. Her face went red and she squeaked out, suddenly unsure of herself, “The Lanternfish’s Lure?”

“Bingo bingo! Lithway stars in The Lanternfish’s Lure! One point to Pumpkinhair! Hey, has anyone seen it yet?”

To fill out the hour, Susan was clearly going to do little bits between each question. Viv’s heart was racing, and she took another sip of her cider, the warmth of both the drink and of the right answer spreading through her. Susan was talking with a patron about the play, about how Lithway used their insubstantial shadow body and stage lights to play with the viewers’ perceptions as the Lanternfish stalked its prey (who was also Lithway; apparently Lithway ran a one-shadow show).

“Anyway, anyway. Let’s move on! In the classic 1968 horror film Night of the Living Dead, what is arguably the real monster of the film?”

Oh, she didn’t even need to debate this one, she knew classic horror inside out and backward. Her hand shot up.

“Why, we have a brave one tonight, folks! Pumpkinhair?”

She drew a breath. “Racism?”

“It’s hard to argue that one, isn’t it? All right, let’s give you another point there! Hey, who’d be up for a showing of Night of the Living Dead this week? We could project it onto the menu board!”

The next half hour or so went on like that—Viv didn’t know a good half of the questions, but she only answered the ones she already had a good idea of, and racked points up quickly. Even the ones she sat out for taught her a lot—where the highest level of reputed hexeries were in the city (Hazy Green, an area in the southwest of the valley very near the gate), the names of the two local vampire lords (Ranier Dupré and Angelica Roth), and much more. As she downed the last of her cider, waiting for the next question, she found she was much more confident that if she needed something from the city, she’d know where to find it.

“Next up, we—”

Suddenly, there was a commotion from the back room. Several people were shouting—she could recognize the voices of both the bassist from the Merry Gentry and the lead, Dandelion—and could make out just a couple of words before the buzz of the pub’s reaction drowned them out: Are you okay? and What happened?

Susan looked around nervously, craning her head toward the back room’s door, then gave a perky wave at the pub floor, tapping the mic to get attention and be heard over the crowd again. “Wow! Sounds like something’s up, huh? Well, let’s bring this trivia to a close a little early so I can go check on that, shall we? Shall we? And you can all enjoy your drinks and mind your business while we get that all sorted! Our loser for today is… Unlucky Frank Walters, yet again. Frank, I’m starting to think this is your fetish. We’ll get back to you with what we want.”

The crowd tittered. A young man, deeply drunk, let out a horrified groan. “It’s not,” he said, barely heard over everything else.

Susan’s joke had worked to distract the patrons, Viv thought, who were now laughing, watching Frank and muttering to each other.

“And our winner… Well, its wee miss pumpkinhair! What do you want for your boon? Hurry, hurry, answer us now or give your reward up for good!”

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Viv hesitated, torn between the privacy of the booth, the excitement of the performers, and the opportunities of the bar.

But the bar seemed like the best option. She could get a drink right away and learn more about town from the bartender—wasn’t that one of their specialties? And besides, since she was being brave tonight anyway, she had to admit she would never forgive herself if she avoided the opportunity to talk to a gorgeous nagi.

She’d always thought snakes were lovely. 

Determination fueling her, she headed over to the bar and took one of the seats there. There were plenty of free bar stools, since more people were gathered around the tables near the stage or filling the booths for dinner.

Just as she’d hoped, the nagi bartender slithered over, giving Viv a bright smile and leaning her arms on the bar so she could be heard more easily without shouting. Her dark hair showered down over her shoulder, snakelike in itself. She was wearing a halloween blouse, black with little jack-o-lanterns all over it. “Hey there. What can I get you?”

“Uh… cider, please,” Viv said. She didn’t exactly want to get drunk, and the last few days hadn’t adequately prepared her for heavy drinks. “What’s your favorite?”

“Normally, pear ccider,” the nagi said cheerily. “But right now? I have to recommend the pumpkin cccider. We only have it in the fall, but it’s ssso good.”

Viv perked up more at the nagi’s bright attitude. “That sounds perfect! Very Halloweeny. Yeah, I’ll have that.”

“Sure thing,” the nagi said. She produced a cold can from a fridge behind the counter and poured it into a pint glass. 

While the nagi worked, Viv let herself get distracted by the band. The singer was one of the high lords of the fae from the look of him, a sidhe—although his typical Tolkien-elf sort of appearance was slightly bespoiled by a mass of fine silver hair that stood out around his head. She was reminded of when she’d been a kid and had touched one of those electrical orbs at the science museum.

“You like the mussic?” the nagi asked, placing the glass in front of her.

Viv looked back with a smile. “It’s great. I listened to a lot of much softer Celtic stuff growing up. My parents were mundane, but my aunt’s a witch and you know that whole sort of… well, you know the music.”

“Actual witch or the, you know…?” 

The nagi’s voice was cheerful, and Viv didn’t take any offense. “Actual witch but they kind of embraced the aesthetic.”

“Lotsss do,” the nagi agreed. “There’sss power in expectationss.”

Viv found she really didn’t want to talk about her aunt anymore and cast around for a change of subject. “You get lots of sidhe performers?”

“Among other kindsss,” the nagi said. “Our opening act didn’t show up today, ssso Dandelion iss onsstage early. The Gentry will be playing for sssome time yet.”

“Nice of them to go on early,” Viv said. She gave the nagi another smile. “So, uh, can I ask you something?”

“It doesssn’t hurt to assk.”

Viv drew a breath. Every dumb instinct she had was to flirt, but the bartender was working; she should focus on getting information. “So, I’m actually new; I just moved in a few blocks away. Do you know much about the area? I mean, you work here.” Belatedly, she wondered if she was being rude, and offered her hand. “Hi, um, Vivian. Viv to my friends.”

The nagi dimpled sweetly, taking her hand and shaking it. “Hi, Viv. I’m Varsha. I live nearby too, actually, ssso I know a fair amount.” 

“Great,” Viv said, a bit relieved. “I’ve had a few people recommend me places to go around here, so I don’t need that so much, but my apartment’s had a couple of things going on. Are there frequent power outages or, uh, bug problems in the area generally?”

“Bug problemsss?” Varsha tilted her head, her blue, forked tongue sticking out between her lips briefly. “I don’t have any problemss with them mysself. Power outagess, thossse are fairly regular. My building hass more than mosst reccently, I think.”

“That’s what I heard about my building too,” Viv admitted. “Maybe they all do around there, and everyone thinks it’s just them.”

“Hah!” Varsha grinned, showing small fangs. “Could be. Wouldn’t it be funny if insstead of being the ussual leyline ssspikes, it wass just Hydro One being lousssy in our neighbourhood?”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than some mysterious supernatural happenings,” Viv groaned.

“Oh, worsse,” Varsha said knowingly. “You can fix sssupernatural happeningss. You can’t fix public ssservices.”

Viv laughed, but before she could ask more, several new patrons showed up, and Varsha gave her a wink and slithered away to serve them as well.

She waited to see if Varsha would get free again, but it was only getting busier—she imagined that the Genry’s actual scheduled play time had started, and so their fans had shown in addition to the standard late-night pub crew. Her chance to get a booth had passed, the last one now taken by a girl who appeared to be part octopus, and so she just nursed her cider, turning her stool and watching the band.

They seemed to have endless energy. The sidhe leader, Dandelion, danced across the stage like he owned it, lights shining on his odd hair and the glittery glam-style makeup he wore. A satyr with a big beard and long curly hair played on the drums, a nixie played bass, and a tall woman in white, standing stiff as a board, played the keyboard. Every time a song ended, Dandelion would flirt with the crowd around him briefly, laughing and teasing as if he wasn’t fae nobility, and then would slam into the next song in his set, his guitar screaming out fiddle tunes into the night.

She wondered who the opening act had been and why they hadn’t shown up. Her paranoia had dimmed between the cider and the energy of the room, so although the thought of mysterious vanishings crossed her mind briefly, she assumed it was much more likely the ever-present fall flu.

By 11, she had long finished her cider and wasn’t sure she wanted another. Delaying here was filling a seat that a paying customer could have—and she didn’t think that she’d get the chance to get more information from Varsha, who seemed to be going off her shift, trading places with a stoic-looking gargoyle and vanishing into the back. 

The music stopped. “Thanks all for the love,” Dandelion said to the cheering crowd, blowing kisses to everyone his eyes fell on. “I’ll be giving my fingers a bit of a rest for a time, but you all know the next hour is trivia anyway. Stay and win—or lose—big. The stakes are always high, as you surely know. Susan, I’ll hand it over to you?”

A dryad bounded up onto stage. “Thanks for the introduction!” she chirped. “That was Dandelion and the Merry Gentry! Stick around for another hour, and they’ll be back. In the meantime, who is ready to risk it all? Hands up!”

Vivian looked down at her empty glass. If she left now, she might still happen to bump into Varsha as she left work. Of course, it was possible that Varsha would be less cheerfully willing to talk when she wasn’t on duty, but Viv considered herself relatively sensitive to that. If Varsha seemed unwilling to talk, she’d go her own way with just a greeting.

Then again, maybe she shouldn’t bother Varsha further, Viv thought, a little anxious. And there was no guarantee she’d run into her anyway. Perhaps she could stay and try the trivia game, or at least watch it, if she were willing to order a second drink. Or maybe she should just go home. Though, those weren’t the only options; there’d been other places that had been recommended to her which she could head out to, and surely other things she could do that she hadn’t thought of yet.

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Viv wrinkled her nose, stepping forward reluctantly. Something about the garbage room just seemed off—and she wasn’t entirely sure it was just in terms of the rot. Tentatively, she stepped forward, her garbage bag hanging loosely from her hand. 

On the one hand, it felt like this was deeply not her business; garbage rooms stank, it was something they did. She was just on edge. Sleeping three days and only waking up to stuff bread in one’s face and feed the cats would do that to a person, especially after then having a rich dinner of fried chicken and coke. The thing with the moth and Yasmin’s nervousness about this building had only added to it.

On the other, this was a heavily magical area, and her specialty was divination. Should she really be shrugging it off if she got a bad feeling about something?

Hesitantly, she made her way toward the garbage containers, picking her way around gross puddles of indeterminate fluid on the ground. Flies buzzed around the compost bins and the dumpsters alike, and fruit flies seemed to swarm on their surface. For a moment, she longed for colder weather to finally get here. No more bugs to worry about then.

The smell seemed to be the worst from the middle container. She made a face, looking up at it. If she really wanted to investigate, she’d have to grab the rim and haul herself up to look inside.

The light flickered overhead, and she froze in the middle of reaching for the rim. The last thing she wanted was for the power to go out while she was holding herself up over who knows what rotting, leaking mess. The stutter of the light sent large shadows through the room, warping the space around her.

“You okay, miss?”

She jumped, a scream strangling in her throat as the flickering light resolved back into the steady hum of fluorescent lights. Spinning in place, she barely held herself back from swinging her garbage bag at the newcomer.

It was an older man, white and with some sallowness to his skin, his salt and pepper hair swept back from his brow. He was leaning on a mop in a tub and wearing a janitorial vest with the name Theodore embroidered on it, his brows raised in some concern. She wondered how long he’d watched her creep her way across the floor toward a dumpster.

Viv’s face heated. “I! Yeah, sorry, I was just…” She trailed off. What could she say? She was worried about the garbage? “I was going to throw this out.”

“Let me get this for you, then,” Theodore said, still in a light tone, almost murmuring it. He left his mop in his bucket and came forward with a smile, hand outstretched. It didn’t reach his eyes, which were dark, hard, and, she thought, judgmental. “It’s nasty in here today, yeah? I’m just going to get this cleaned up and prepped to be taken out tomorrow.”

She wasn’t sure she’d been so embarrassed in her life, except that the entire last month had happened to her. “Yeah, sure! Thanks! Sorry,” she babbled, shoving the garbage bag at him, and fled.

When she made it to the ground floor, she ducked into the building’s gym room to wash her hands and splash her face. It still felt like it was practically sizzling. She must have looked like a total weirdo—she could only hope that he’d rounded the corner when she was at the dumpster already and it had looked like she was just waiting out the power glitch to toss her bag in, not playing amateur garbage detective.

She definitely needed to get out, Viv decided, looking at herself ruefully in the mirror as water dripped off her long, angular nose. Somewhere fun, somewhere that she could just relax for a bit. Live music and booze sounded like just the thing.

Besides—the quote she had read mentioned a neighbour’s party, and while she was pretty sure that the literal meaning was that you could learn to enjoy something outside your comfort zone if you just joined in… she had literally been recommended a bar that seemed like a party joint and was actually named the Good Neighbours. Couldn’t get more meant-to-be than that.

Trying to stop replaying the last five minutes over and over, she headed out into the night, determined to make herself enjoy the brisk air and the scurry of leaves around her ankles, red and brown and ashy gray. Autumn was her favorite season, and she was going to have a good night tonight if it killed her.

Google Maps wasn’t always reliable in Valleys—less through a fault of its own and more that the geography changed so often, roads shifting, buildings moving, shops opening and closing under their own power or, sometimes, their own will. There were even websites dedicated to trying to track the changes day after day. But Good Neighbours seemed like it was an establishment that had been around for a while, and sure enough, her phone brought her there easily enough.

From the outside, it didn’t look like much. It was a pub that had taken over what had once been retail space off a side street,with offices overhead—she had to assume that they worked opposite hours from the pub, so that the nightlife wouldn’t bother any of the workers. It had a brick front, and large windows with GOOD NEIGHBOURS written across them in sparkling gold and white window paint. The loud electric take on traditional Celtic music could be heard even with the door closed.

Of course, she thought, scanning the menu outside—standard pub fare, it looked like—with a name like the ‘Good Neighbours’, she’d expect a pretty high number of fae performers and servers. Probably under fae ownership as well, which would explain its reputation. Yasmin hadn’t identified it as such, but then, Yasmin also said she didn’t do bars.

From the poster hanging up outside, it looked like the band playing today was called the Merry Gentry, which only further affirmed her sense it was fae-owned. But it should be safe enough to go and get a drink; not eating or drinking on fae territory really only applied to spaces where they offered you something for free. A business was a totally different situation.

She headed in, almost bowled over by the music, and stood in the doorway, looking around as she got her bearings and adjusted to the noise of the screaming electric guitar jig currently playing, the dim lights and fog hovering around the tables, the patrons yelling at each other to be heard over the music. It looked like it was a ‘seat yourself’ pub, so she took a moment to figure out where to head to.

There were some quieter booths to the side and away from the stage, less occupied, where she could go and sit and just talk to a server when they came by; one booth was even entirely free. She could sit by the stage, and lose herself in the music, maybe get familiar with the band. Or she could go sit at the bar, where a beautiful nagi, a snake-woman, was serving up drinks. 

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The delivery driver perked up immediately. “Right, I’ve got your order here,” she said. She seemed to sniff at Viv briefly, making her wonder if her shower had somehow failed at its purpose, but she’d done a sniff test on herself after and was sure she didn’t smell of anything more than rosewater shampoo.

The driver just smiled down at Viv, apparently not noticing her sudden anxiety. “I brought the machine?”

“Thanks,” Viv said awkwardly, pulling her card out of her pocket. “Hey, I’m new here, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” The driver handed the card reader over. “How can I help you?”

Viv punched in a 20% tip. “I just moved here from out of town—you said that the buzzer was acting up again? Does it do that often?”

The driver relaxed minutely. Viv reminded herself that an OmegaEats driver probably got asked a lot more rude and intrusive questions than that—in the Valley or out of it. “Yeah,” the driver said. “I deliver in this neighbourhood a lot, and this building’s buzzer recently started acting up, I guess. Sometimes it’ll let me ring up but won’t let them buzz me in, and sometimes it’s just dead. Looks like it’s just dead today.”

“Wild.” Viv printed out the receipt and saw that the driver’s name was Yasmin, debated calling her it, and then felt weird at the very idea. “Does that happen to a lot of buildings in the area? Leyline spike?”

“Ehh.” Yasmin waggled a hand. “These problems happen more often than leyline spikes do; I think it’s just faulty wiring. The power goes out in this building fairly often too, I get a few orders just ’cause people can’t cook on one night or another.”

Viv pulled a face. “Ugh. Figures I learned about that after I moved in, not before.”

“Tough luck,” Yasmin said lightly. As Viv handed the card reader back, she took out Viv’s food from her insulated bag. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Viv said. “Anything in the area you’d recommend a newcomer check out?”

Yasmin’s thick brows raised in surprise. She was a rather attractive woman, Viv couldn’t help but notice, even as she chided herself for the inappropriateness of that—let alone the fact it’d be a rebound. Her hair was long and thick, bound back in a braid, and she was tall and strongly-built. At her own fairly short height, Viv found she always appreciated taller women. “Like, for entertainment, or otherwise?”

“Anything, really,” Viv said. “I’m from out of town.”

“Right, okay. Library’s nice. We’ve got a few theatres—the Theatre of Dreams is always pretty mesmerizing.” Yasmin said, relaxing further. She seemed pretty chatty, Viv thought, more comfortable to have a conversation than Viv had first thought from how antsy she’d initially seemed. “I hang out in the skate park a few blocks away a lot; it’s really friendly and open to every level of experience. If you’re outdoorsy; it’s part of a larger nature park in the area with good walks. I’d avoid the West Street Dog Park, though, it’s picked up a bad crowd. Food wise… lots of local stuff is good, I’d suggest trying all kinds of places, and ordering through OmegaEats.” Shameless. “If you’re a night owl, I can’t really answer about pubs or clubs—I’ve heard that the Good Neighbours is really wild after hours, but I don’t really do that sort of thing. Otherwise, Beanheadings is always hopping? It’s a fae-run coffee shop, but everyone goes there. Open 24 hours, fairly human-friendly, though it’s not in the best part of town.”

“Well, downtown?”

“Downtown, yeah.” Yasmin gave her a sunny smile. “That everything?”

Viv gave her one back. “Yeah. Thanks so much, I really appreciate it. I’m Vivian, by the way. If you work this neighbourhood, I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“Yasmin.” Yasmin offered a hand, and they shook. She seemed pleased to get an introduction; probably something else that didn’t happen a lot in her line of work. “Let me know how you’ve settled in next time.”

“Will do. Thanks again.”

With that, Yasmin headed back out to a motorcycle that she’d parked next to the entrance. Viv watched her put on her helmet and take off. 

A cold autumn wind rushed past in her absence, and Viv shivered, shutting the door and taking the stairs back up this time. She didn’t want to go back into the elevator room—and besides, Yasmin’s warning about power outages was stuck in her mind. No point in getting stuck in an elevator

The cats greeted her—or, more likely, greeted the scent of chicken—with a riotous chorus of meows as she reentered her apartment, and she wove through piles of boxes to her desk with them tripping her up the entire way.

As she drank her coke and ate her chicken, occasionally peeling off strips to throw for the cats, she looked up the places that Yasmin had named. The library did seem nice, though it would be closed at this hour; the Theatre of Dreams looked to be that famous shadowfolk Lithway’s theatre, as the rumors had said. The skate park had an immediate attraction, even though she wasn’t a skateboarder herself: it looked to be home to a number of feral cats, as pictures of the place showed them lounging insouciantly everywhere, heedless of danger. 

But the attached nature park looked big and dark and, she thought, the whole area would probably be safer during the day than at night. She continued browsing. The Good Neighbours was a pub, with live music and trivia and a reputation for fae trickery and mysterious disappearances; by contrast, even if run by a dullahan, Beanheadings seemed to have more of a reputation of everyone being safe there, regardless of whatever faction they claimed—or no faction at all.

“Ughhh. Pebbles, where should I go?” she asked Pebbles, who was licking Viv’s fingers clean of chicken grease. Pebbles chirped at her. “Just follow wherever my footsteps take me? I’d go introduce myself to the neighbours like the quote said, but I don’t want to interrupt them at dinner time… but I guess most people I’d meet at local spots would be locals themselves, right?”

Pebbles gnawed on her fingers and Viv tugged them away gently, booping her nose.

Before she went anywhere, she had to get rid of the garbage or the cats would get into the bones, since she hadn’t found where her closed garbage can had ended up yet. She downed a glass of water to chase away the taste of chicken, dug up a garbage bag from the clearly-marked box of cleaning supplies, then changed the litter boxes for good measure. After three days without cleaning them, the apartment was smelling a bit foul.

“I’m heading out after this, so don’t wait up,” she called to her inattentive cats.

Tying off and picking up the garbage bag, she headed out again. At the choice between stairs and elevator, she hesitated, feeling silly about her earlier nerves, then took the elevator down to the sub-basement with no problem. It took a little wandering through the parking lot there before she found the garbage room—but once found, there was no mistaking it.

It reeked even the bins seemed barely full; she gagged a little, hesitating at the doorway. It felt like it couldn’t be just from the accumulation of trash, but maybe bags were leaking, or hadn’t been taken away recently. Maybe that’s what Yasmin was sniffing earlier, a floor away. Another strike against this new apartment, she thought, a bit sourly.

Better get it over with, she decided. She still had to decide which place she’d go to after this—hanging around in the garbage room door wasn’t going to do her any favors.

 

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