The Edgewise was pandering to her again. Agatha sighed at the chair, the usual upholstery altered to a familiar pattern, a sign and sigil of home. Her fingers tightened around the leather straps of the mask, dangling from her hand. The events of the day required a drink that would smash her in the face like Baelsmyth's hammer, not the gentle nudge of an empathetic anthropomorphic building. Scowling, she dropped into the chair across from it, rubbing her face with her free hand.

There were no approaching footsteps, but a gradual awareness crept over her, informing her she wasn't alone. "Not in the mood, your majesty," Agatha spoke through her teeth.

"Please do not address me as such here," replied a smooth male voice. Agatha spread her fingers, peering through the gap at the vampire in an imperial dress uniform, mostly covered up by a filthy bar apron that fell to his knees. He'd rolled up the sleeves over his forearms, exposing pale skin, an adjustment that almost brought a smile to her lips. In the twenty years she'd visited the Edgewise, Eugene's appearance remained the same, down to the last detail. Between the bared forearms and the strands of hair carelessly framing his angular faced, he was downright unkempt. He caught her gaze, raising a brow at her blatant perusal. "What will it be this evening, my Lady?"

She dropped her hand to unleash her scowl on him. "Likewise on the formalities, Eugene," she snapped.

He held up a hand, tilting his head to the side. "Apologies. I'm nervous Agatha. Do you want a drink or not?"

What a vampire prince had to be nervous about was a mystery, but Agatha took pity on the man, noting how much paler than usual he was this evening. She glanced around, realizing what had her friend so off kilter. "Mack and Cal called away?"

Eugene nodded. "This is the first night they have trusted me to mind the bar alone."

That explained his painfully formal speech. Agatha sighed. "I'll take a glass of Abyssal Shine 95' and remember to use contractions."

He paused. "The Abyssal Shine? Are you sure?" He asked, choosing to ignore her snark. His brows drew together in a small crease.

"I'm sure," she said. She didn't meet his eyes while he lingered, clearly wanting to say something to her but Eugene was always blessedly awkward about such matters. Once he left, her corner of the room was quiet, the knot of tension in her chest slowly coming loose. Just her and the chair, the familiar cloth design tugging at memory. A lump formed in her throat, bright heat pricking at the corner of her eyes. Agatha leaned across the short distance, carefully placing the object she carried with her everywhere these days.

The glass eye holes were filmy and scratched, having seen more than a few scuffles the past few days. Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing the heat behind her eyes to settle. Her arm twinged, still healing from the glancing blow she'd taken yesterday.

You're not taking care of yourself. The chiding voice a phantom of her loss. Gods, how she missed him.

The subtle clink of glass on wood startled her. Eugene slowly straightened from where he set her drink down, nostrils flaring. "You were injured?"

Agatha pursed her lips. "Much as I trust your control, I'm not so careless with my life to come in here bleeding. How did you know?"

He pulled a face at her. "That ridiculous paste you have smeared all over yourself has a distinctive odor."

The glass of liquor produced an eerie luminescence, a brilliant blue black color wavering in patterns across the wood grain of the table. A faint fog wafted over the rim, the glass ice cold to the touch, sticking to her fingers.

"This poultice is perfectively effective," said Agatha, delicately sipping the Abyssal Shine. Contrary to appearances, the liquor wasn't cold. Quite the opposite. Years of conditioning allowed her to keep a straight face as the liquid scorched her insides. The liquor was developed as a fuel source for ever burning illumination on a world of eternal night. It was also two hundred proof and left you with a hang over akin to being kicked in the head by a mule.

"Hedgewitch herbology," Eugene muttered, leaving her to her internal suffering.

"Snob," Agatha sneered, forcing down another sip without choking. That would be bad. Her sinuses might catch fire if she gagged. Inevitability, her gaze flickered back to the empty mask, tugging the chair closer with her booted foot. The blue-black glow of the liquor winked through the eye sockets. An imitation of life.

The tear that slid down the side of her nose was cold. A creak shivered through the rafters overhead. Agatha's lips tilted in a sad smile. "I know you miss him too," she said.

After all, it was Yosepf who brought her here.

Words tripped and stilled on her tongue. The urge to give voice to the longing ache in her chest was crippling but Agatha knew better. Words had power, especially in places between reality. She bit down on the unspoken vow and sipped her drink, letting it muddle the sharp edges of her thoughts.

She didn't know how long she sat there in a Shine induced stupor when the tavern door swung open, belching forth a filthy tavern master and apprentice. Eugene cleared the bar in an impressive display of agility, catching Cal before she hit the ground. Mack wasn't so lucky, hitting the floor with a wet slap of muddied limbs.

The tavern master cussed, struggling to his feet while Eugene gently wiped the mud off Cal's cheeks, a close-lipped smile to match her loopy grin.

"I take it you managed to fix the leak," said Eugene, carrying Cal to a nearby chair so he could take full stock of her condition.

"We did, though it was a bit of a mess," said Cal, her eyes sparking mischief.

"The epitome of understatement," said Mack, leaving a smear of muck on the bar as he searched for a drink.

"You're being dramatic. It was one little sinkhole," said Cal. Her expression darted to the nearly empty tavern. "Quiet night?"

"Yes," said Eugene, his tone neutral. He continued to clean her up. Cal caught his hand, threading their fingers together.

"Everyone's been rather busy lately," she murmured to him. Of course they were. Even Agatha normally wouldn't be here with all the mess they were collectively dealing with, but today had been particularly hard. Eugene and Cal moved in their own little bubble. They leaned into each other's space, drawing in that quiet bodily comfort from proximity.

A thread of jealousy wove through Agatha's chest.

Squelching footsteps approached behind her. Mack sighed, carefully prying the near empty glass of Abyssal Shine from her rigid fingers. His gave roved over the empty mask keeping her company, ancient in a way that Agatha couldn't fully comprehend but was keenly aware of. In many ways, the tavern master and Yosepf were similar, though she doubted he'd welcome the comparison.

"How long since you last took a sip?" Mack turned the glass over in his fingers, smudging the glass with his filthy hands. Irritation flickered across his features. He shrugged his shoulders, his body briefly blurring before coming into focus, not a spec of dirt on him.

Cal sputtered from across the room. "No fair!"

"Go take a bath," said Mack, giving a pointed glance to Eugene. The other man scooped Cal up and carried her off, ignoring her protests.

Agatha raised her brows. "I've always wondered how those two managed," she blurted. Her face immediately scrunched up.

"Been at least half an hour since your last sip," drawled Mack. Agatha bit her tongue. Abyssal Shine was a beacon in the dark, though it also had a rather unfortunately side effect of shining a harsh light on one's inner thoughts. More potent than truth serum. Mack's teeth clicked, a finger tapping the glass. He moved closer, a third chair appearing where it hadn't been a moment ago. Agatha scowled up at the rafters.

"What part of losing myself in a glass don't you understand?" She wagged an accusatory finger at the ceiling.

"The Edgewise worries about you," said Mack, gently tugging his beard as he regarded her.

Agatha flinched. "Oh, do stop staring. Worse than a bloody dragon, you are."

Some of the ancient ice broke, Mack planting a hand on his chest in mock outrage. "Madame, I fail to see the comparison to a big scaly lizard."

She giggled, slapping a hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to contain the sound.

Mack's expression swung back to pensive. "I know this has been harder for you than the others," he said, his tone painfully gentle. Agatha didn't want gentle. She wanted to drink and forget. "Despite all the mess and chaos, most of the others came through unscathed."

Jacob hadn't come through unscathed. Neither had Mack. Eugene nearly lost a leg. Agatha bit back her retort. Swallowed the words down. Words to wound. Words to soothe. She didn't trust her inebriated brain to sort out the proper ones.

But there was only so much she could keep at bay. The words swelled inside her, a flood of grief and rage that battered against the back of her teeth, until they found a crack to slip free. "You don't understand what I've lost."

Mack looked at her, but not even the dragon could stop the seething anger building inside her. "You're right. I don't. But I know Yosepf was unique." He broke the strangle hold of their stare, turning her glass over in his hands. "I can hardly imagine how you feel."

Agatha didn't want to answer him, but the Abyssal Shine coated her tongue, widening the hole in the damn of her emotions. "Like I've lost a vital piece of myself," she said, the words hoarse.

The Tavern Master stirred, a shark scenting water. A fine tremor ran through Agatha's limbs at the power stirring behind his eyes. She shouldn't have come tonight. "If there was a chance to get him back, what would you do?"

Pressure wrapped around her throat. Agatha wanted to scream at him. How dare he? Did he think she was ignorant to what he was? How he operated? But anger warred with desire. A single word swelled inside her until she choked on it.

"Anything."

Words had power. It was the first lesson Agatha ever learned. Words could kill or heal. They could bind or break. The word burst free from her, the unspoken oath she'd clamped down on since the moment Yosepf's form broke beneath Jacob's assault.

Above her, the lights flickered. The glass cracked in Mack's hold, the remains of Abyssal Shine seeping through the fractures. The walls of the Edgewise pulsed in a way that made Agatha's skin crawl. Mack set the glass down, absently wiping the liquor on his pants where it began to eat a hole through the fabric.

Mack spoke, his words swirling around her with the finality of a judge's gavel. "Well then, Realmwalker, it is time for you to Wander."