A Werewolf, A Vampire, and A Fae Walk Into A Bar (Book 1 of The Last Witch Series) novel Chapter 1

"So, a werewolf, a vampire and a fae walk into a bar…" Joe says, his lips pursed in exaggerated performance.

"What's a fae?" Frank asks from the end of the bar. He follows his question with a long drink of his Guinness, sloshing a bit out of his glass and onto the counter I just wiped down three seconds ago. Frank’s a beefy type, with a thick body and a thick dark beard that covers his aging skin. He was a truck driver for 40 years and is now a professional barfly.

Joe shrugs, his eyes bloodshot and his beer belly hanging over his belt. "Like an elf. You know, like those movies." His alcohol habit has aged him by at least ten years. Well, that and grief. A broken heart will break your body just as fast. His 50 looks closer to 60, and his formerly brown hair is now streaked with gray.

"Nobody gives a shit about your stupid jokes, Joe," Phil says from his standard spot at a booth in the back. The youngest of them, Phil is tall and skinny, with a blond scruff of hair that dances wildly on his head, like it can hear music no one else can. He works construction, like most of the men around here, so he’s always got filthy fingers wrapped around my otherwise clean pint glasses.

Joe's face falls, but he retains his optimism. "You care, don't ya, Bernie?"

I grin, rubbing a wet cotton rag over the spill Frank just made. "Sure I do, Joe. As long as you tip." I wink to take the sting out of my words, and he chuckles along with everyone else.

It's Tuesday, our slowest night of the week, and these guys are all regulars. They've been coming to Morgan's since before I was born, and will probably haunt the place long after I'm dead.

Joe takes a swig of his Smithwick's. "Okay fine. You're right. Vampires are dead. No one likes those bastards since they started to sparkle. Hold on, I've got another one. The past, present and future walked into a bar," he says, and before anyone can give him a hard time, he wraps the joke up. "It was tense."

That one actually makes me laugh out loud. What can I say? I'm a geek at heart. I just play the tough as nails Irish girl to keep the locals happy. I mean, it’s not all an act. I was raised in a bar, my Irish heritage shines brightly in my pale skin and dark hair, and I’ll absolutely punch a drunk who gets handsy. And if it weren't for these locals, I'd never have made it out of this town, even if I did end up right back where I started.

Fate is a bitch, and if she decides to walk into my bar, I'll show her ass out.

A twinge of pain flashes deep in my abdomen. I lean against the counter, exhaling quickly and holding onto my protruding belly. "Hey there, little one. What's going on? It's not time to meet yet."

Joe glances down at my stomach and is about to say something, a worry line creasing his forehead, when a loud crash sends him into full panic mode as the walls of Morgan's Irish Pub shake.

"What the hell was that?" he asks. "Is it aliens? Is this it? They've finally come for us!" He starts looking around the bar for… what? I'm not sure. A place to hide from the aliens maybe? A light saber?