A Werewolf, A Vampire, and A Fae Walk Into A Bar (Book 1 of The Last Witch Series) novel Chapter 7

Lying in bed, Rain asleep in her crib in the corner, I slowly come to. I can’t have slept much, my body and brain ache for rest... but it’s impossible to ignore the conversation going on right outside my bedroom.

I still don’t have a concrete idea of who - or what - Darius, Zev, and Rune are, but I know they are different. Not just in the obvious ways, like being grossly good-looking and able to help a first-time mother safely deliver a baby on the floor of her bar, but in larger, more cataclysmic ways.

For starters, they’re not from America. If I had enough to drink, I’d very quickly tell you they aren’t from Earth, but my brain still isn’t ready to make that leap. Nevertheless, they talk of places I’ve never heard of before and know things they should have no way of knowing. And while those particulars could be explained with a little con artistry, other things seem… magical.

It takes a lot of effort to get past my cynicism. On more than one occasion I’ve made a magician cry by yelling “bullshit!” until he or she pulled back the curtain to show me how the trick worked. Mysterious men, hot as they may be, don’t immediately have me believing in the paranormal.

And yet, things just seem… otherworldly. Everything from the timing of their arrival to the ways they dress, talk, and move makes me feel like these men can’t be explained using traditional terms and ideas.

I nodded off a lot during birthing classes because I didn’t think I was learning anything, but I’m starting to wonder if I slept through the part where they tell you that the pain of labor causes the most vivid hallucinations imaginable. Though, if that were the case, wouldn’t other women be talking about how they thought their doctors and nurses morphed into exceedingly sexy strangers?

These thoughts are keeping me awake, as well as the conversation my possibly hallucinated companions are having.

“Of course we can’t arrange a deal, Darius,” Zev says in a hushed tone. “We all want the child for the same reason. What are you prepared to offer that’s equal in value to being eternally allied with the Fates and saving your people from extinction?”

“I haven’t thought that far, friend,” Darius responds. It’s getting easier to distinguish their voices, and I’m still solidly pretending I’m asleep.

Growing up above a bar with very little privacy in our tiny two-room apartment, I learned the best way to get information the grown-ups didn’t want you to have was to fake sleep. I’m a pro.

“There must be something in the prophecy to use as a guide,” Rune says. “An impartial detail to determine who is the rightful courier.”

“Don’t be foolish.” The condescension in his tone lets me know this is Darius. “The entire point of the prophecy is that this last step is undecided. We, in this room, are the final sentence of the scroll.”

“Our version wasn’t written, only spoken amongst elders and royals.” Zev speaks with a tone that’s calm, sophisticated, and gruff. His voice alone gives me goosebumps.

“You relied on an oral translation of the Fate’s declaration?” Darius says snidely.

“Got me here at the same time as you, friend.”

I know I need sleep, but I can’t stop listening, and I don’t want them to stop talking. Also, for three beings who may or may not have superpowers, they are doing a crap job at noticing how loud they are and how nearby I am. Or maybe they just recognize that I’m vulnerable and powerless and they don’t really care what I hear.

I shift slightly on account of the ever-present throbbing throughout my body, and the movement immediately shushes the conversation. This is as good a time as any to join in on the Sexies’ little pow wow.

“What are you three talking about?”