The Greatest Pub in the Multiverse, page 29
part #1 of Greatest in the Multiverse Series
What he was looking at was a substantial check. Multiples of what James would have expected to receive for the sale of the pub if he could sell it.
“Mr. O’Malley.” James folded the check again and held it outstretched back to the rival pub owner. “You know that I can’t sell the pub. Not yet.”
“I know, I know,” said O’Malley. “But consider this a promise until you can. You maintain ownership of the pub. Run things as your father had—dry and dull and boring. You don’t need all this excitement. You can head back to Canada and know that you and your sister will receive your inheritance. When the deadline comes a year from now, I’ll take ownership and reopen this as a second location of The Cursed Dragon.”
James swallowed. It was everything he had convinced himself to hang on to O’Sullivan’s for—Kathy to get her share of inheritance, and a little bit of cash for him. He could get out of Cuanmore once and for all.
If he had held this check when he’d first arrived, there wouldn’t have been a question. He would have shaken the bar owner’s hand right there and then. His eyes drifted up to Kathy, who was carefully watching their exchange, then to Adam, who shifted his backpack.
Hell, a few minutes ago he had felt out of place here. But suddenly, with the prospect of being able to make this all go away, something shifted within him. He could sense Emma mixing drinks on the other side of the portal, sense that Liam was swooning over her, that the dwarves were busying themselves and laughing among newfound friends, that Hal was quenching his thirst at the bar with a mighty pint of ale.
He knew that the Sky Riders were en route to their next destination, setting up their dragons in camp for the night so they could take a break from their adventuring, their search for their missing ally complete.
That somewhere in a distant land, some group of farm boys on a quest to save their world was about to stumble across a newfound gateway.
That a table of dwarves was elated to have found the magic ingredient that had been lost to their peoples for centuries and were already crafting songs about the pub where they found the revered Tears of the Gods.
He knew gnomes would be laughing, chittering away in anticipation of receiving a few drinks, their squeals only understood by themselves.
And most of all, he knew that friendships had been forged and rekindled—Rudy and Tarvo, Emma and Liam, and all the other groups who had needed a break from their adventures in worlds he had never known existed a few weeks ago. People had been able to find a rest from their quests, all because The Pint and Portal had been reopened.
He also couldn’t shake off everything that had gone wrong. The flickering power that his mother had warned was a sign that things were not going well, to the mushrooms in Adam’s bag that might attract inter-dimensional warriors bent on destroying each world they encountered.
He thought of Moira and her hesitance to allow magic to cross barriers. Of Tarvo and his world destroyed by the Tíogar Mór.
Perhaps accepting O’Malley’s offer would be the final way to do what his father had hoped to achieve by closing its doors, what Moira had hoped to do by her incessant pleas to shut the gateways—keep the magic at bay. Keeping threads of other dimensions out of their own and ensuring their world remained safe.
James looked again at the number in front of him. This offer seemed too good to be true, too exceptional, but it seemed to be exactly what he had wanted when he arrived.
“If I may ask a question,” said James. “Why is it that you want this pub so badly?”
A grin formed on William O’Malley’s face. “Well, I would have thought it would be obvious by now,” he said. “Look around you. Look at what a little bit of proper management can do. You’ve done well, lad. I know you feel obligated to your father, but he’s not here. And no amount of beer slinging is going to bring him back.”
The directness of the statement took James aback. All he could do was blink in astonishment.
“I apologize if that seems harsh,” O’Malley continued, “but it’s true. You may think that this is an okay venture for you now, but will you feel that way in a year? Two years? Five? How long will you be content here? How long before that itch inside you grows and beckons you to leave again, seeking your own adventure? How long will it take before living in the shadow of your parents is no longer enough for you? I watched you grow up, boy. I know the spark that is in you to see worlds beyond this place. I’ve seen it too many times before. All the men and women that have come through these pubs over the years who were passing through. I can tell when the spirit of wanderlust has its grip on a man. I’m offering you the opportunity of freedom.”
“Right,” James said. “Out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Hey.” O’Malley raised his hands in mock surrender. “I am an entrepreneur, but that’s my nature. No doubt this is a fine opportunity for myself. The chance to run two successful pubs? To me, this is everything. It’s what I love to do.”
James hesitated. He had too many conflicting thoughts to know what to say.
“Hang on to that check for now,” Mr. O’Malley said, apparently sensing James’ hesitation. “I won’t wait forever, but you think about it. Think on it over the weekend. I’ll return on Monday. I would like you to make a decision by then. If you don’t want to do this, I’ll take my money and place it in another investment.”
James’ phone buzzed in his pocket. Relief flooded over him at having an easy way out of the conversation. “I’ve got to take this call, Mr. O’Malley. I’ll let you know on Monday, one way or the other.”
Mr. O’Malley nodded with a satisfied smile, apparently content to receive an answer that wasn’t a sharp no.
A familiar name and number appeared on the phone’s display, and the image of Trevor in front of the Vancouver skyline lit up the screen. Whatever the reason was for his colleague’s sudden call, it was a welcome interruption.
He wound his way through the patrons, heading to the exit to get to a quiet space.
As he stepped outside, he glanced at O’Malley’s check one more time. He blew out a puff of air in disbelief. Could the pub be worth this much to the man? What would happen to The Pint and Portal? They’d truly have to shutter it for good.
He quickly shoved the check into his pocket and answered the phone.
“Trevor, how are ya keeping?” he asked. As the door closed behind him, the noise of the pub echoed into the street.
“Good, James,” came the voice on the other end. “How have you been, my friend? How’s Ireland treating you?”
James ran a hand through his hair. “It’s been challenging.” That much at least was true.
“I can only imagine,” said Trevor. “Hey, man, listen, I hate to bother you again. I know I told you that you would have lots of time over there with your family, but, well, we got a bite on one of our offers.”
“Oh?” James asked, intrigued. “Already?”
“Yeah, surprised me too, but a game studio down in LA likes our work and wants to bring us on board. It’s a big project. I’m talking multi-six figures for each of us.”
James blinked in surprise and swallowed. That was an unbelievable sum for a single contract.
Not only that, it meant he no longer had the excuse to stick around Cuanmore.
Every objection to staying at the pub had eroded in a matter of minutes. But there was still something nagging him at the back of his mind.
“Wow, that’s great,” he managed. “When does the project start?”
“Yeah, so that’s the thing.” Trevor drew out the words as though unsure of how to relay the information. “They need us to start right away. They’re asking if we can get going on Monday.”
“Monday?” James said, “I can’t be back by Monday.”
“I know, I know,” said Trevor, “and I told them that. I said that we’re not in a position to begin Monday, but given the circumstances, we’ve got the green light to hold off until the first of the month.”
James swallowed. That was only a couple of weeks away; it still wasn’t much time.
Beside him, the pub door swung open as a couple stepped out, each with huge smiles painted across their faces. His gaze wandered past them and into O’Sullivan’s.
It’s like when we were kids.
Suddenly he wasn’t sure if he was ready to leave this all behind.
James scoffed. One moment ago, he was wondering how he could stay here, and the next how he could leave. He shook his head. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.
He felt like he was going crazy.
“Listen, Trevor, I—I’m going to need some time to think about this before I give you an answer. I’ve made some commitments here, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do about those.”
“Yeah, go ahead. Don’t worry about it being in a couple weeks or whatever. You just let me know when you’ll be back. I’m sure we’ll make it work. Okay, buddy? I can fill in the gaps until you get here. But listen, I’ve got to go. Say hi to your family from me, and I hope it’s all going okay.”
The other end of the line went silent as Trevor hung up without James being able to say another word.
He scratched at the back of his head, his short hair rubbing against his fingertips. He should be excited. He should be thrilled.
He wasn’t anything of the sort. If anything, he was more confused than ever.
Adventure. That was what he had always wanted, what he had dreamed of. It wasn’t like Vancouver was some grand quest.
Maybe listening to stories could be just as much as an adventure. Certainly, sitting in a pub that was a hub between fantasy realms had to be more of an adventure than sitting behind a computer in Canada.
James snickered. It all seemed so ordinary now.
He pulled out O’Malley’s check again, letting his gaze go over the hefty amount written on it. Adventure or not, it would be a lot of money to say no to.
So why am I having such a hard time saying yes?
Emma
By now Emma had grown accustomed to the opening and closing of portals as part of The Pint and Portal’s background noise, so she had barely noticed the warble of the most recent one. Dozens of patrons were coming and going, and the sound had started to blend into the rest of the bar’s activity.
But the sudden, unnatural silence that followed this time snapped her attention to it. The noise didn’t simply die down, it vanished, causing a stillness that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
It was only broken by the gasps of several patrons around the room, a few scraping chairs, and a clinking of glasses as patrons set their drinks down. Emma couldn’t tell exactly where the sounds came from, but it didn’t matter.
Her instincts kicked in, and she grabbed her daggers, one in each hand as she spun around, ready for another assault.
Only it wasn’t an assassin.
It wasn’t anything she’d ever seen before, but she knew instantly what it was.
Standing in front of the still-shimmering portal was a tiger, standing on two legs, dressed as a human, frozen where it stood.
Tíogar Mór.
The tiger-like figure didn’t move. It stood frozen, its amber eyes warily scanning the room with a dangerous gaze, as though assessing whether he was predator or prey.
His fur was a deep orange color, streaked with white and black. He wore a tunic of dark leather, its surface marked with intricate patterns. Over it, armor plates reinforced his shoulders and forearms, the metal dulled from use. A medallion rested against his broad chest. The belt cinched around his waist bore an ornate buckle, and his posture was straight-backed and steady.
As though sensing the room he entered posed a threat, he turned and attempted to flee back through the portal from which it came, but the exit had already shut. Its orb hung dormant from the sleeve where it lay. Emma was quite certain the tiger did not realize the orb would need to be removed and reinserted for the portal to be reactivated.
Moira, who stood across bar, had contorted her body, posed to strike. “Tíogar Mór,” she growled, as she lifted an arm toward the creature. If Emma didn’t know any better, she could have sworn the woman was about to cast a spell.
The gesture nearly threw Emma off guard. Instinctually, she laid a hand on Moira’s arm. “Wait.”
“The wards have failed,” Moira hissed. “We cannot let it in here.”
“Just wait,” Emma repeated.
“You don’t understand if—”
“There’s only one,” Emma said gruffly. “Don’t do anything rash.”
Emma studied the newcomer carefully. She’d seen her fair share of predators on the hunt, as well as magical beasts on the run—running from capture, running from unfair laws, running from angry villagers—enough to know this tiger wasn’t a threat. Despite the creature’s massive size, the dazed look in his eyes told Emma he was more scared than threatening.
Several more blades unsheathed around her.
“This isn’t right,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this.”
Despite her voice being lowered, Liam was close enough to hear and turned to her. “He’s one of them?” Liam asked, meaning the Tíogar Mór. “We can’t let him hurt anyone.”
“He won’t,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. “Not unless he’s provoked.” Emma certainly hoped she was right.
“But you’ve heard the stories!” Liam’s voice shook. “Of what they did to Tarvo’s world.”
“Yes, and I’ve heard stories of ogres as well! We can’t let the mob attack this fellow just because of how he looks!”
Emma wouldn’t allow herself to be responsible for that again. She refused.
Hal grunted. Liam’s gaze shifted between them.
Moira had enough waiting, her arm started circling, muttering an incantation under her breath.
What in the bloody blazes!
“Stop!” Liam called out, his voice reverberating through the room. If he realized what his mother had been about to do, he didn’t show it. Instead, his focus was on the dwarves, men, and others who held their swords at the ready. “There will be no violence in this place! Sheath your weapons.”
A murmur of protest rippled throughout the pub, but nobody moved.
“Sheath them now!” Liam growled.
Several warriors did as they were commanded, and the dwarves also lowered their axes.
Tarvo stood beside the bar, both hands gripped on his ax and ready to pounce.
“Tarvo,” Emma said softly. “It’s okay.”
Tarvo grunted without shifting his eyes. “It is never okay with these beasts. You would know that if you had seen my world.”
“I did see your world,” Emma hissed.
“Then you understand what they are capable of!”
She had to do something to help reduce the tension in the room.
For his own part, the tiger had retreated, his back to the wall, curled in a protective stance.
Cautiously, Emma made her way around the bar to stand in front of Tarvo. She raised her hands placatingly. “I’ve seen what some of these beasts can do. This one comes alone. I assure you, with the number of axes and blades in this room, if he tries anything, we can take care of him. But for now, trust me.”
Tarvo looked at her briefly out of the corner of his eye and furrowed his brow. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
Emma took a cautious step forward. “Please,” she said. “For me?”
Tarvo grumbled and took another nervous glance at the newcomer, who stood in the shadows, before relaxing his stance and lowering his ax.
“Let’s just talk to him,” Emma said. “The wards should have prevented those with ill intent from arriving.”
“The wards are failing,” Moira growled. “I’ve been trying to warn you . . .”
“This pub has stood for centuries without evil coming through those gates,” Emma argued. “Hasn’t it always been a haven for the lost? Perhaps that’s all he is—lost.”
Tarvo muttered, “I will believe it when I see it. And even then, I won’t believe it. I’ve suffered too much. My world suffered too much at the hands of these . . . creatures.”
“We can’t judge his entire species because of the actions of a few. Please sit back down. Let me talk to him.”
Tarvo grumbled, but reluctantly he sat, blade still in hand.
Confident she’d done as much as she could to diffuse things given the circumstances, Emma made her way toward where the newcomer stood.
She strode across the bar, sure of her steps, intent on making this Tíogar Mór feel welcome, regardless of what the rest of the pub thought.
There were other dwarves, goblins, and men who still held their blades at the ready, but thankfully none had moved. None had tried to attack.
Movement beside her caught her eye, and she only then realized Liam had joined her. A smile crossed Emma’s face as she felt some of the tension leave her. She wouldn’t have to do this alone.
Liam, though uncertain, was willing to trust her.
“Please don’t hurt me.” The Tíogar retreated, lifting its arms as if to stop an attack. “I don’t wish to hurt anyone.”
Emma held up her empty palms as she slowed her approach. Liam mirrored her actions.
“No one here will hurt you,” she said. “You have my word.”
Liam glanced around the room as though he weren’t so sure, and to be honest, neither was she. But they had to start somewhere.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“I’m Kai,” he said nervously, as his eyes darted back and forth around the room. “And no offense, but I can see the mob of people behind you. They all look as though they would rather put a dagger in my heart than offer me a seat.”
Emma nodded as she glanced back at the room behind her. “They’re scared,” she said. “They’ve had bad interactions with your kind in the past.”
Kai lowered his arms, only slightly.
