The Greatest Pub in the Multiverse, page 16
part #1 of Greatest in the Multiverse Series
Liam picked up the glass and studied it for a moment before taking a sip. His eyebrows lifted as the flavors hit his tongue. “Damn,” he said, setting the glass down. “That’s really good.”
Emma crossed her arms with a satisfied smirk. “It’s smooth, a little sweet, with just enough bite from the coffee to keep it interesting. Perfect for someone who’s looking for a drink that’s different from beer or whiskey.”
Liam took another sip then glanced up at her. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d win me over with this glittery nonsense, but you’ve got something here.”
Emma’s smirk softened into a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Liam tilted his head, raising the glass slightly in a toast. “To the Opener, and to whatever other surprises you’ve got up your sleeve.”
Ingredients:
2 ounces vodka
1 ounce chocolate syrup or liqueur
1 ounce Kahlúa or coffee liqueur
1 ounce cold-brew coffee
Edible glitter (for garnish)
Ice cubes
Chocolate shavings or cocoa powder (for garnish)
Light corn syrup (for rimming the glass)
Directions:
On a small plate, drizzle corn syrup. On a second small plate, spread glitter.
Dip the rim of the martini glass into corn syrup, then into the glitter to coat the rim.
In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, combine vodka, chocolate liqueur, Kahlúa, and coffee.
Shake vigorously for 20 seconds.
Mix a small amount of glitter with a bit of cold water or simple syrup to create a glitter suspension.
Strain the cocktail into the prepared martini glass.
Slowly pour the glitter suspension into the drink, stirring gently.
Sprinkle a bit more edible glitter on top of the cocktail.
Optionally, add a few chocolate shavings on top.
James
James strode in through the portal, a bottle of sparkling wine in one hand and a tray of champagne glasses and what appeared to be a saber balanced carefully in the other. Liam and Kathy trailed behind him.
“Gloria,” he called out as he navigated toward the bar, “could you get Ha’dran and Tarvo? I’d like to make a toast before we open the gateway.”
Gloria nodded and scurried up the stairs, her eagerness suggesting she was either trying to be helpful or looking for an excuse to disappear.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Emma said, beckoning to James.
James handed the tray to Liam and Kathy. “I’ll saber this once everyone’s here, if you could get the glasses ready, and put the bottle on ice.”
They nodded and got to work as James followed Emma a few steps away, far enough to be out of earshot.
“Is this about the beer at Cuanmore Harbour?” he asked. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that ever since we left, but with everything going on, I haven’t had a chance. What the hell was that all about? It was as if I was transported to another . . .”
Emma held up a hand. “It’s not about that. We probably should discuss that too, but there isn’t time right now.” She glanced toward the stairwell. “Demon Box overheard Gloria and Ha’dran having a heated exchange.”
James reflexively looked toward the stairs then back to Emma. “About what? Did he . . .” James stumbled over the pronoun. “He?”
“Demon Box prefers to be referred to as ‘it.’” Emma smiled appreciatively. “It didn’t catch everything, but it did hear them say the words ‘burn this place to the ground.’”
James pursed his lips. “That could be concerning, but it’s hardly an uncommon expression. In fact, I’m pretty sure I had that exact same thought when I first arrived back from Canada. Are you sure he wasn’t blowing off steam?”
“Normally I’d agree, but Ha’dran is a fire mage,” said Emma. “He could be very capable of acting out such a threat. Plus, despite Demon Box having a flair for the theatrics, I don’t think it would have brought the statement up if there wasn’t some concern.”
Emma continued, keeping her voice low. “Gloria also seemed to want to confide something in me. I played my hand wrong, and it caused her to back off. But she called Tarvo an old fool.”
James nodded and lifted a hand to scratch his head. “So, do you think they are untrustworthy? We’re kind of relying on them to help us for now, at least until we can get more staff. And we are sticking our necks out by keeping them here.”
“That’s part of what Gloria seemed upset about—that they’re essentially trapped here. But I suppose as long as they’re not venturing out into your world, they’ll be where we can keep an eye on them. Hopefully that’ll discourage them from doing anything rash—if they’re planning anything at all.”
“I appreciate that,” James said. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Footsteps echoing from the stairwell mimicked thunder rumbling.
“One thing I can say about dwarves,” Emma added, “they don’t step lightly.”
James held a bottle of champagne in one hand, and a saber in the other. Was he really doing this?
Last week he had been sitting at home behind his laptop and a bag of Cheetos, minding his own business. Now he stood here, somewhere that was also nowhere. A pub that was between realities. His hands trembled slightly—he hadn’t really tried to process that one yet. Never mind that he now was also seemingly having to deal with mind-altering pints of beer, a sentient, smart-ass computer that had the ability to travel through dimensions, anthropomorphic tigers terrorizing other worlds, and dwarves who wanted to burn the whole thing down.
Maybe they should. Then I can be rid of this nightmare.
His eyes met Kathy’s questioning stare, and he wondered if somehow she could read his thoughts.
Sure, why the hell not? Everyone else had their secrets. Maybe she does too.
The inheritance, he reminded himself. He was doing this so they could split their inheritance. But surely they could split insurance money just as easily?
Of course, insurance wouldn’t likely cover a building that existed outside of time and space—maybe he was out of luck on that one.
How the hell is any of this real?
He understood how he had ended up inheriting O’Sullivan’s and being convinced to run it. That made sense to him. But The Pint and Portal? It had pretty much all spiraled out of his control, and here he was—holding a bottle of champagne, ready to celebrate its re-opening.
He cleared his throat; he had to rein his thoughts in, lest he spiral into a panic attack.
The dwarves, despite their arson-inspired leanings, had followed Gloria back downstairs. Rudy came down with them. The baker had a youthful glow as he stood behind Tarvo. Though nearly two feet taller than the dwarf, he looked perfectly at ease with their arms around each other.
Gloria was another matter. He wasn’t sure if she was scowling, or if dwarf resting-bitch-face was especially bad.
Ha’dran was as unreadable as a stone. He stood with his arms crossed, but James would have sworn he was more nervous than anything. The dwarf was set to tell a story this evening. James insisted he didn’t need to stay on stage for long. Ha’dran had said he wanted to do something to wow the audience. It was opening night after all; he wanted to make an impression.
Now the dwarf’s fingers twitched, his weight shifted from side to side. Ha’dran had already shown that he possessed some form of magic—the ability to wield fire. James wondered how smart it had been to invite someone to perform magic, real magic.
I’m standing in a freaking magical pub. I’m surrounded by real magic.
Three pairs of dwarf eyes, and three pairs of human eyes met his. Kathy passed him the bottle of wine and the saber, and he stood there for a moment in a daze.
All eyes were on him, and he realized that his companions were waiting for him to say something.
“Err . . .” James stumbled.
What was he supposed to say? That he’d been brought here by forces outside of his control, to somewhere he’d never wanted to be, to do something he wasn’t even sure was possible? It didn’t matter what side of that portal he stood on. It seemed his fate was tied to Cuanmore, and everything was crashing in on him.
The thumping of his heart was so loud compared to the silent anticipation of his friends that he was sure everyone else could hear it as well.
Suddenly, all the air had been sucked from the room. He felt himself waver as the edges of his vision darkened and a churning in his stomach threatened to reveal the contents of his supper.
“It’s all right, James,” Rudy said. The man didn’t move from his space beside Tarvo. But through his clouding vision, James could make out the creases of concern on his face. On all of their faces.
“Those of us here are your friends.” Rudy raised a hand, finger pointed up with intent and shook his head slightly. “No, that’s not right. We’re family. We don’t need a fancy speech. We all know this wasn’t your first choice. Never mind the shock of learning of magic, dwarves, and portals. This was a legacy passed on to you by your father. And even though you weren’t close, it still must be tough having lost him and having to face all of this without his guidance. But you’ve also discovered there was a side of your dad that you never got to know. One that you can never ask him about.
“I knew your dad a long time. He was a good man, and both he and your mom used this pub to help not just me, not just Tarvo, but many humans, dwarves, elves, gnomes, and all sorts of folk who walked through those portals in search of a pint of ale and a break from whatever reality they came from.”
James lifted a hand to his cheek and was surprised to find it damp. Emotion overwhelmed him, and tears flowed freely. He fought to keep his composure, holding back the urge to completely break down.
He allowed Rudy’s words to sink in and wrestled the reality of where he stood with the man he’d always thought he knew. This was his father’s legacy, and the man hadn’t bothered to tell him about it when he was alive. He and Kathy were about to open portals to other dimensions, and his father had neglected to provide an iota of instruction, details, or advice. He had to rely on Rudy and Moira, and one of them didn’t even want to open the damn thing.
His tears weren’t from sadness—they were from anger.
He slumped down onto a barstool and breathed deeply.
For as long as he could remember, he wanted a real adventure. He had wanted the stories that his mother told him to be real. He never thought he’d get his wish, but he’d always assumed he’d at least be able to get away. Away from O’Sullivan’s. Away from Cuanmore.
Everyone was still focused on him, a salvo of pity accompanying their gazes.
James cleared his throat and straightened. He didn’t want their pity. There was no use in feeling sorry for himself. He had no other options, it was true. But he had made the decision to see this through, and he was going to do the best damn job he could.
Rudy was right about one thing. Everyone in this room, whether man, woman, or dwarf, had offered to pitch in to help him pull everything together, and for that he was grateful. Heck, even Moira, though not present at the moment, had agreed to help wait tables, despite grumbling about it.
James sniffed and cleared his throat. It might have been overwhelming, but he pushed through, knowing he was capable of more than he believed possible.
“Thank you all for everything you’ve done this week. I know it feels like we’re flying by the seat of our pants. In most ways we are. Each of you has helped me to bring this pub and O’Sullivan’s back to life. Rudy especially, you’ve basically been at our beck and call all week, providing us with staff, equipment, and advice.”
Liam cupped a hand to his mouth to amplify his voice. “Don’t forget the sweet buns!”
Everyone laughed.
“I have no idea what is about to come through those gateways, and I don’t even know why I’m here at all, but I appreciate you having my back. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I wouldn’t be here without all of you.” He felt the weight of his mother’s journal in his back pocket and pulled it out.
“Maybe Mom and Dad didn’t tell us about this place, but Mom seemed to think it was pretty special. Rudy seems to think it’s special. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s enough. My life seems to have given me no other options but to be here. But I appreciate you taking a chance on me, and I know my parents would as well.”
James lifted the wine bottle and the saber, pointing it away from his friends. Whatever his misgivings, he was going to mark this occasion.
With everyone around him, for the first time since he’d returned to Cuanmore, everything felt as if it might be okay.
Stories of the Tíogar Mór are getting more frequent, and the pub’s magic seems to be getting more erratic. I can’t help but ponder that the two might be related.
I’m also ashamed to admit that I sometimes wonder if Tim and Moira are right, if we should close this pub and never speak of it again. But any time I think on what that means, on everything that The Pint and Portal has done for us, my heart mourns for the blessings that we would have never received without it.
We’ve all gained so much happiness, and we’ve helped so many people. Those we hold dear are only here because of this magical place. But if the portals were to fall into the wrong hands, I’m afraid everything might be lost for all our worlds.
Moira has insisted that the wards might not hold against their magic. Or worse: they might be attempting to siphon magic from the place for their own purposes—maybe even to weaken the wards. We have no confirmation that they possess magic. Yet with the recent power fluctuations, sudden breezes, and malfunctioning equipment, it’s hard to argue. But Rudy and I are of the same mindset. The pub has been here longer than any of us could possibly know, and so far, its magic seems to know what it’s doing.
This pub has brought so much good into our lives that I feel we must honor Tim’s family legacy, if not for him, then for James, Kathy, and their children. The Pint and Portal must always be a haven for those of us who were lost, and a home for those of us who have been found.
I have been both, and I don’t think it’s fair to withhold that gift from others who might need it.
James
James had the honor of pulling the lever on the far side of the wall. He wondered how often during his formative years this switch had been open, allowing people from all sorts of worlds to roam on this side of their portal, steps away from his home, and he had been none the wiser. What sort of stories would his father have been able to tell him if he’d been willing to open up and share them with his own children?
A now recognizable hum erupted from the lever’s box and filtered through the rest of the pub. It was not unlike turning on the lights in a gymnasium filled with old fluorescent lighting.
The seven of them stood in silence, expectantly watching the wall where the portals might soon open. Gray brick stood guard in silence.
“What if it’s been too long?” Kathy asked. “What if they’ve all forgotten the pub is here?”
James shifted his weight. “Would that be the worst thing in the world?”
Rudy chuckled. He sat down and took a long sip of his ale. “They’ll come.”
His eye caught the chalkboard filled with drink specials. Perhaps he should start by learning some of the drinks Emma had dreamed up.
“Maybe while we wait Emma could show us one of the drinks she’s concocted? It’d be good for us to know what we’re serving up anyway.”
“Don’t you need to man O’Sullivan’s?” Kathy asked. “I think one of us should be there.”
“Rudy’s staff have it under control for now,” James said. That was part of the plan at least. “I’m sure they can manage pouring a few pints.”
Kathy looked unconvinced.
“I can go,” said Liam. “Make sure they don’t need anything.”
James caught a surprising flash of disappointment in Emma’s eyes. Maybe he should allow those two to spend more time together.
“No, Liam,” James said. “Stick around. It’ll be good if you learn more of Emma’s drinks so we can serve them in O’Sullivan’s as well.”
Emma was good at concealing her emotions, but James still caught the glimmer of excitement that sparked in her eye. Though he couldn’t be sure if it was because Liam was staying or because she got to show off her mixology skills. Either way, she tried to mask it by slipping behind the bar and pulling out the barware she needed.
“That’s fair enough,” Liam said. “She already showed me how to make the Opener. It wouldn’t hurt to learn a couple more. I can show the staff after. We can serve these cocktails in both pubs—give the Cuanmore residents something a little more special as well.”
Emma shot a grin in Liam’s direction from behind the bar.
There was something brewing between those two.
Each of the dwarves heaved themselves up onto the bar stools.
Kathy’s gaze shifted from the wall where the dwarves’ portal had appeared and back to the one that led to O’Sullivan’s. “If it’s all the same to you folks, I think I might head back. That paperwork isn’t going to finish itself. And despite my faith in Rudy’s staff, I’d feel better if one of us was on the floor.”
Ha’dran, Tarvo, and Gloria let out loud noises of disapproval. Liam and Rudy joined along with quieter, but no less emotional, awws.
“You should stick around, Kathy.” It was Emma who put the protest into words. “It’s opening night, and you’ve been as much a part of this as anyone here. It would be good if you would celebrate with us.”
Kathy took a longing look at the portal. She’d never been one for socializing, and James could tell that she was ready to call it a night before they even got started.
