Lunars Edge

Fresh seasoning mixed with the twisted aroma of liquor filled the bar. Laughing, alluring conversations, and the clinking of glasses competed with endless rounds of rock n’ roll storming from the speakers. The bustling nightlife was just enough to keep Vincent’s inner beast under control.

With the continuous noise and occasional fights that allowed him to engage in a good fistfight that ended with him kicking jackasses out of his bar, he found an odd sense of tranquility within the chaos.

Established in the fall of 1991 shortly after the birth of his baby brother, Vincent discovered the old building in the perfect nook between two streets and found it more than perfect. Completing all the remodeling himself, Vincent transformed the structure into a success while he lived in the loft directly above it.

Its rustic setting brought his love for the forest and a well-aged lifestyle to others with wooden counters, dark marble, and excessive use of masonry. Lunars Edge carried a piece of him in its own unique finesse.

Running a bar probably wouldn’t be the most ideal career for anyone raising a child for the first time in two thousand years, but for a werewolf left without a cure, it was the best he could do on short notice.

It has been a long twenty-five year stretch of fevers, impossible shifts, and agonizing pain. Vincent’s immortality was becoming more and more nonexistent, he wanted to take advantage of what time he had left.

With the excitement growing strong that Saturday evening, so were the crowds. Checking his phone for the twelfth time in the last hour, Vincent expected his brother to reply by this time. His brother was supposed to be here by now and having his help in the small dining section would be a huge relief right about now.

Sure, Seth had his own life and other things to do with his newfound independence rather than serve a bar all night. As long as he didn’t go back on his word and forget his promise to check-in. Vincent knew his younger brother wasn’t human, but the poor boy was completely oblivious to the fact.

With a long sigh and shoving the phone back into his pocket, Vincent focused on his job. He would have to settle for calling him later when he wasn’t enduring the crazy hours at work.

Wiping down the bar and throwing a few glasses in his dishwasher a blonde slid up on the barstool with a nervous smile. She was cute, petite, wearing and simple but figure-fitting mint green cocktail dress decorated with small sequins.

Her perfume was sweet with a soft touch of citrus that wasn’t too loud or overpowering. A definite plus for Vincent’s super sense of smell. Examining her further he could guess she was in her mid-twenties and by the jitters, not having the best time.

This will not do, not in his establishment.

Vincent made eye contact and was just about to ask her what was wrong when the problem presented itself to them. Her presumed date lazily throws his arm around the girl as if he scored a touchdown for the evening. With his drunk arrogance, he smacked his hand on the bar and snapped his fingers at Vincent. The werewolf nearly shattered the glass he was holding from the sudden clamor.

“Hey, bartender!” He blurted, smacking the countertop. “We need some drinks over here.”

Looking down at the glass, it indeed cracked under the pressure of his hand. Sliding it under the counter shelf out of sight he gave the young couple his full attention with an artificial smile.

At least not towards the male. The man was cocky, ambitious, and rather into himself. He seemed to be having the time of his life focusing on calculations of him getting laid more than anything else. The lady on the other hand gave Vincent’s heightened senses a whole new meaning of the term threatened.

She gave Vincent’s heightened senses a whole new meaning of the word distressed. She was fidgety, pressured, and leaning away from her date’s intentions to practically grind into her. His whole demeanor disgusted both Vincent and his date.

“We’ll have to White Russians” The male ordered, “And make them strong.”

“You got it.” Vincent sighed, with no real intentions of making the ladies drink strong under this situation.

Before he could even turn around to get started the girl snatched his wrist and was hesitant on letting go. He could feel her tremble against his flesh, but her smile was ever so sweet. “Actually, I’ll have Angel’s Dust.”

“Angel’s Dust?” Her date squinted towards the back of the bar board, “I don’t see that on the menu.”

“It’s a special drink.” She replied, forcing her smile to linger. “A friend told me about it and that they can make it for you only if you ask.”

“The lady’s right,” Vincent added.

“Well, what’s in this special drink?”

Vincent shrugged and threw his hand towel on his shoulder, quickly making up ingredients at the top of his head. “It’s a martini with a raspberry mix of sweet and sour. Containing sugar, vodka, triple sec... among other things.”

“Sound boring,” The guy scoffed. “I’ll keep my original order; she can order whatever she wants. I’ll be right back babe, gotta go take a piss.”

Her grip tightened on Vincent as her date playfully smacked her thigh. It wasn’t until he was out of her sight that she exhaled and released the bartender.

Angels Dust, special secret indeed. This non-existing drink could only be found written on the mirror wall of the women’s restroom. A Lunars Edge safe word for women in need of a quick escape from a bad situation.

Vincent came up with the idea after he caught a woman desperately trying to crawl out of the restroom window located towards the ceiling and ten times too small. Evening the playing field, men had their own secret drink called Devils Desires.

“First time in a bar?” He asked the young woman “Or is your boyfriend always this big of a jerk?”

She nodded, “It was a blind date set up on a website by my friend. He’s not anything like his profile picture.”

“Yeah, they never are.” Vincent shook his head. Seth once tried to get him to use social media to promote the bar. Vincent swore that if he ever put him through that again he would break his legs. “Come on, let’s make you disappear before that asshole gets back.”

Tapping the kitchen service shelf as he passed, Vincent gave a nod for his chef, Noah, to watch the bar as he took the hand of the current damsel in distress. Understanding the situation, Noah gave them a wink and continued his work with a watchful eye.

On a normal night, Vincent would escort the individual out the back while using with the excuse that their card had declined or some other bullshit and needed more information. However, tonight was excessively busy for a Sunday and had to intervene as quickly as possible. This time he took her into his office, as well as the entrance to his apartment, which was located just above the bar.

Closing the door behind him, he placed her jacket on the arm of a small black sofa sitting in the corner. She turned and focused on a mirror frame across from the bartender’s workspace and noticed the dented glass revealing the bar.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“A two-way mirror,” Vincent smiled at her, “You bet your sweet ass it is.”

“You have trust issues I suppose,” the woman folded her arms. “Or does every bar have this?”

“I just like to know what goes on in my establishment when they think I’m not there.” Taking a deep breath Vincent prepped to execute his plan. “I can’t get you out as fast as planned in this rush. Just sit tight for a moment, I’ll get rid of our problem first.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll tap on the glass went the coast is clear,” Vincent said. Heading towards the door before suddenly stopping “...and don’t take anything.”

“Got it.” The woman nodded as she eased herself down on the sofa, feeling more comfortable knowing she could watch closely from the other side. Vincent grabbed a small crate of brew and slipped back out into the bar just as Mr. Exclusive made his way back to his stool.

His jaw dropped and he scanned the bar for the beauty that had officially ditched him. Unsatisfied with the outcome of his date, he turned his anger towards the bartender who was going on about his own business.

“What the hell dude?”

Vincent stopped stocking the crate and turned towards his customer. “Problem?”

“Yeah! The girl!” he snapped “Where’s the fucking girl I was with?”

Dumbfounded, Vincent looked around and then shrugged “I don’t know man, she was there a moment ago.”

“Did you see which way she went?”

“No, sorry”

“NO! What do you mean no?” The guy said, raising his voice. “Why didn’t you watch her?”

“I’m the bartender, the one who serves alcoholic beverages from behind the bar,” Irritated, Vincent put down the crate and rested his elbows against the counters. “Not to be confused with marriage counselor, matchmaker, or babysitter! - She probably figured it wasn’t worth it and left your stupid ass.”

The man scoffed and straightened his leather jacket. “She say something? Am I not good enough for the bitch or something?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Vincent shrugged, “Maybe you came off too strong, maybe you made her uncomfortable or maybe she had second thoughts. Hell, maybe she thought your penis was too small. Whatever the reason, if a woman says no or decides she wants to leave I respectfully stand by the decision.”

“You son of a bitch!” Insulted, he took a swing. Vincent let the fist come in contact with his jaw before grabbing him. Jumping over the bar he twisted the guy’s arm and slammed his face against the marble countertop.

The bar grew quiet as some eyes found their way towards the men. Some were nervous and watched with curiosity, but a few regulars watched with a smile. Fully knowing their bartender would straight up knock anyone on their ass if they even looked at him wrong.

A small power Vincent enjoyed having over people. He never started fights but wouldn’t tolerate being provoked. The man yelped in man under his unbelievably strong grip.

“Stop! You’re breaking my arm man!” he cursed “The is assault!”

Vincent leaned down to the man’s ear “Usually in situations like this I’d let you get a few hits in, feel like a man before giving you the beating of a lifetime and throwing you out on your ass. Lucky for you I’m tired and still have a long shift to complete.”

Other people had stopped what they were doing and watched as Vincent held down this loud squirming individual. “Now, when I let go, you’re going to walk out that door without a fuss and if you come back, I’ll finish what I started. Send the police? and I’ll hunt you down and do more than break your arm...do we understand each other?

“Yes, man!” The man hissed. “Just let go!”

With that, Vincent released the arrogant bastard and waited for his next move. At first, he thought the man would rush at him, but once he got a good look at all of the eyes looking in his direction he stormed out of the bar.

Long moments passed and the bar found its way bustling back to normal. Seeing it was safe Vincent went back into the room, grabbed his jacket, and took the lovely lady through Noah’s kitchen and out the back door. Just in case the ditched date was too arrogant for his own good.

The air was chilly and wet from the rain that currently drizzled outside the bar. For fifteen minutes Vincent struggled to hail a cab while the woman held his jacket over his head. It was amazing that in the heart of New York, one of the busy cities for nightlife, and you couldn’t get a cab when you needed one. Any other time the roads would be swamped with them.

“You don’t have to wait out here with me,” she suggested, feeling like she had become a burden to the man. “You’ve done more than plenty.”

“Maybe if I show a little leg, I’ll get somebody to stop.” Vincent teased.

She laughed “I’m serious dude, you’re going to get sick running around in this rain.”

“I don’t get sick.”

His damsel loosened up since watching him goof off outside. Vincent had her laughing after the first five minutes. To his luck, a Taxi came around the corner and he was able to successfully claim it by jumping halfway into the middle of the street.

Opening the door, Vincent gestured for her to climb in.

“Thank you.” She said most relieved. “You saved me from a lot back there.”

“No problem, just doing my routine hero work.” He replied with a wink.

“You’re full of yourself, and a bad flirt.” She said handing back his jacket before taking his hand and easing her way into the car. Vincent felt something crumble against his fingers and her hand pulled from his. “but cute as hell though, I’ll give ya that.”

With a lingering smirk, he closed the door and smacked the hood of the car. Signaling it’s take off. Looking down at the torn piece of napkin she had slipped to him before her departure. Unfolding it revealed a cute doodle of her name and number.

“Look at that, a little heart and everything.” Vincent chuckled to himself. He exhaled and tore the soft paper until it was no longer recognizable, dropping it to be carried off by the drain. “Good seeing you...Catherine.”

⁜※⁜

The night went on and the excitement eventually died down. Vincent had a few laughs with Noah and took care of any remaining drunks and disoriented individuals before calling it a night. The werewolf completed another long weekend and was more than ready to crawl upstairs and pass out. Vincent was flipping the chairs upon his table when he heard the front door open from behind him. “We’re closed,” he called out on instinct as he finished up cleaning.

Turning he saw the rejected jerk from earlier that night standing in his bar. He was completely soaked, water dripped from his clothes into a fresh pool around him. The look on his face was beet red with anger and he reeked of cheap beer.

“You took her from me!” he shouted.

Vincent exhaled and rubbed the tiredness from his face. “Look man, it’s two in the morning. I had a long shift, I’m dirty, I’m exhausted and in no mood to fight with you.”

“Fuck you!” the young man cursed. Retaliating, he pulled a gun from his pants and aimed it at the bartender.

Vincent slowly raised his hands, showing the deranged man that he was fully unarmed. His heart fluttered, staring down the barrel of his gun brought back many unwanted memories. “Let’s just take a deep breath before one of us does something we regret.”

“Not so tough now are you!” The man spat, “You stole her, she was my girl! Mine!”

“I understand you’re upset.” Vincent kept his hands up and his voice calm as possible. Knowing that any tone found aggressive to a drunk could turn the situation in an ugly direction. “She was scared and wanted to leave.”

“Bullshit!”

Vincent flinched slightly as the drunk violently shook the gun at him. He wasn’t afraid of the man, but given the hell, his mind has endured over decades of war, Vincent’s body just reacted on its own. He noticed his fingers were beginning to tremble and had to extinguish this encounter before he lost control. “Look you’re pissed, and I get that, but you are currently holding a loaded weapon at a military veteran and need to lower it now.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“No,” Vincent inched towards the man. His mind thinking of various ways to disarm him quickly. “But if you pull that trigger, cause me to have an attack, or if I blackout? There’s no going back from that...Now lower the fucking gun!”

The man wavered, the gun still shaking in his hands. For a short moment Vincent could see his rage fade but only to come back moments later of how his life would be over now that he threatened the public with an illegally owns weapon.

“I won’t press charges,” Vincent assured him. “We’ll just go our separate ways.”

The man was distracted enough. Vincent took his chance and moved for the gun, slipping his finger behind the trigger before it could be pulled. Catching the man’s wrist, he twisted and pulled his gun arm down. During the struggle, something happened that Vincent was used to, but not currently stabilized enough for the sound of a gunshot.

The noise shook him causing panic to set in, triggering his PTSD. Vincent’s hands trembled and his breathing became heavy. Stumbling back, he glanced down at his stomach to find his blood spreading quickly across his shirt.

Realizing what he had just done, his attacker freaked. Thinking he had to finish the job, the man fired one more time and struck Vincent in his chest. Falling backward, Vincent watched as his attacker fled. Leaving him bleeding out on the floor.