The tavern was silent. Calponia stopped at the top of the stairwell, unable to completely banish the dread that settled in the pit of her stomach. The feeling increased as she descended the creaking stairs to find the bar empty, until it sat like a stone crushing her from the inside.

She found Mack sitting alone at one of the tables, staring at a misshapen tankard as if he expected it to explode. He waved her over without looking up. Calponia cringed. This was it. She was about to be fired and cast out, with no home and no prospects.

She sat across from him, unable to look him in the eye. Sitting on her hands kept her from twisting her fingers into knots. Calponia waited for the proverbial ax to fall; the minutes crawling by until she couldn't stand the pressure and chanced a peek at her boss.

Mack stared at her with an intensity that pierced all her defenses. The second her eyes met his, she was stripped to the bones, her nerves jangling as he flayed open her soul, scraping away everything but her bare essence. It felt akin to a mental meat grinder. Calponia whimpered.

He blinked.

The awful sensation stopped. Calponia took a deep gasping breath. What the hell just happened? Her eyes flicked over Mack's face, unwilling to risk a second direct stare, but she began to wonder if her boss was actually human.

Desperate to break the tense silence, she asked the obvious question. "What happened to the customers?"

Mack raised an eyebrow at her. The more she thought about it, she never saw coin exchange hands between any patron and Mack in the week she'd worked here. Did they pay? Or did the Edgewise have a slew of epic tabs on file? If that was the case how would Mack pay her wages? Her heart sank further. She'd been so grateful for the job and so busy acclimating to the work, they never discussed her wages. Now she was homeless, about to be unemployed, and, likely, thoroughly screwed out of her pay.

"You're turning blue, Calponia, take a breath."

She sucked air in through her teeth, afraid to open her mouth or she'd start begging and ranting. Mack watched her, a frown of concern on his bearded face. He gestured to the room, which on second glance wasn't as empty as she thought. The Munch continued to doze in his corner, uninterrupted.

"I sent the bulk of our clientele home," said Mack, absently spinning the warped tankard with his free hand. "You and I need to have a serious conversation about the bête noir."

That again? Calponia's hands were falling asleep beneath her thighs. She shifted, putting them on the table, her fingers tapping against the worn wood to regain feeling.

"Are you going to fire me?" She blurted.

"That is no longer possible," said Mack. He looked unenthusiastic at the prospect.

Calponia blinked at him, confused, possibly insulted, but mostly relieved. She shouldn't question it, but damn if her curiosity didn't get the better of her. "Why not?"

His eyebrows raised another notch. If they went any higher they might make a break for it and fly off his face. "Because of this," he said, tapping the ruined tankard. Calponia stared at it, uncomprehending what he was referring to when Mack sighed, tiredly rubbing his face with one hand. "You were holding it when you fell."

Understanding slowly unraveled her confused expression to one of horror. "I did that?" She whispered, green eyes wide. On closer inspection, the tankard wasn't merely twisted, but wrong, as if mucked up on a molecular level. She felt sick.

"You did not," said Mack, leaning back with his arms crossed. "That bête noir leeching off you, however, is now bleeding out to affect reality. Lift your hands."

She looked down. The table grain was warping and shifting beneath her finger tips.

Calponia shot to her feet, knocking her chair. "I didn't mean to--I didn't know--why is this happening?" She began to back up, keeping her hands up so she didn't touch anything.

"Wait!" She missed his warning by a second. Her legs collided with the fallen chair, tangling her up just enough to send her ass over tea kettle.

Her body jerked to a halt; Mack's hand wrapped around her wrist.

Calponia gaped at him. She hadn't seen him move but he was on his feet, leaning across the table as he held her upright. There was a strange tingling sensation in her wrist where his hand touched her. A mildly unpleasant tugging she felt in her veins, right through to her teeth. She wished it would stop but resisted the urge to yank her wrist back as he set her on her feet. Even then he didn't pull away, his grip tightening as the tugging sensation worsened.

Something was happening. Perspiration rose on his skin as she watched, and his complexion paled. She looked down, stifling her scream at the burned flesh rising up his arm.

"Let go!" She didn't dare touch him, afraid to hurt him further. At last Mack shuddered and peeled his hand off her arm. The air stank of burnt hair and skin, and the cracking wet sound his arm made as he moved it off her made her stomach flop. Her wrist was unharmed, bearing only the charred outline of his fingers. She felt lighter than she had in a long time, as if a weight were lifted off her soul.

Calponia had the strong urge to sit on the floor, feeling out of her depth, but Mack was in obvious pain. She rushed to the back room, grabbing the med kit as she tried to figure out what just transpired between them.

The kit contained a roll of gauze. Glancing at the cracked and bloody skin of his hand, stretching halfway up his forearm, she was going to need all of it.

"Do you have any burn cream?" He shook his head at the question.

She forced her eyes away, fetching a tumbler and bottle of brandy from the bar. She poured him a glass before setting to work.

Mack guzzled the drink down, pouring himself another. He didn't flinch once as she began to wrap his oozing wound in clean white gauze.

"What did you do?" Calponia kept her tone light. Inside she was a mess. Part of her wanted to run screaming into the fog and not look back. It was a small, not particularly bright part. Who knew where she could end up if she did that. Besides, the fog was chilly.

"I absorbed some of the bête noir's potency," said the barkeep, swallowing another tumbler of brandy. That was his fifth glass. Not that she was counting. She thought through the implications of his answer as she gently tied off the bandage.

Nope, he definitely wasn't run of the mill human. Considering their location, this didn't surprise her, but what was he? Calponia considered the tavern's other denizens she'd met over the past week but Mack didn't fit any particular profile. He definitely didn't have the muted glamour of the vampires for one, possessing features as muddied as their were unmemorable. Medium brown hair, dark blue eyes, an unremarkable nose and jawline. Aside from a strong physique born from lifting kegs for a living, Mack was built to be forgettable.

Glass number ten went down his gullet. The man wasn't knackered in the slightest.

"What are you?" Calponia sat on the corner of the table.

Mack squinted at her over the rim of glass number eleven. "The proprietor of the Edgewise," he said. Obviously.

Calponia nodded, clenching her teeth behind closed lips. Perhaps pestering her clearly alcoholic and injured boss wasn't the best course of action. She blew out a breath, huffing her hair out of her face. "I suppose I should...uh go home then?"

She jumped when Mack slammed his glass on the table. "Weren't you listening, girl," he snapped, seizing the bottle for straight chugging. After a few deep gulps he drained it. She stared at him, worried and a little scared. He looked up at her, his eyes slightly unfocused. "I can't let you go home. Your curse has grown too volatile."

"But you said you absorbed it," said Calponia. She slid off the table, glancing back to see if the table was bubbling. To her relief, it wasn't but Mack gave her a look that made her feel sublimely stupid. She scowled at him. "Look buddy, this is all new for me, so try to explain it like I'm five, okay?"

The man sighed, pouting at the empty bottle. "I'm sorry, Cal, it's been a long time since I've initiated someone into the life. Yes, I've effectively shoved your curse back inside your skin, but its temporary. The bête noir has had a life time to build strength and it seems you stumbled in here at the tipping point." He glared up at the rafters of the tavern. "The worlds are full of fantastic coincidences." Sarcasm dripped off his lips. Or was that drool?

He flapped a hand at the door. "Anyway, if I let you saunter back into your world, you'd likely destroy a city or something."

She gawked at him. "You can't be serious."

He gave her a hard stare. "How did your morning go today?"

Calponia nibbled on her lip, leaning back down on the table. Today had been spectacularly bad, culminating with her eviction but it hadn't been that bad. Had it? She strained her memory to recall her long walk home from the courthouse, dazed by the news of her newly christened crippling debt. Now that she thought about it, the weather had been a bit...apocalyptic this morning. Her shoulders slumped.

"You'll stay here," said Mack, eyeing another bottle of whiskey sitting on the bar top.

Calponia slipped and crashed to the floor. She struggled upright. "Really?" She tried and failed to throttle back the eagerness in her voice.

Mack shrugged. "The Edgewise wants you here, but" he shoved a finger in her face. "if you're living under this roof, you'll have to be more than a tavern wench."

"Okay," said Calponia apprehensively. Was he going to make her clean the place too? No, the tavern took care of itself.

Mack rose to his feet, remarkably stable for a man who chugged a whole bottle of liquor in less than five minutes.

"You'll shall be my apprentice," he declared. Mack took two steps toward the bar when the alcohol finally hit, all at once. He toppled face first to the ground, out cold.