Three | Stella

It’s unusually quiet tonight, especially considering it’s a weekend. But when a phenomenon so rare finds itself in the spotlight once more, there’s no doubt that most would prefer to be present. In the moment. With their family, friends and loved ones, that is.

Still, there’s money to be made from the loners and lurkers of Brelsford’s inner city population.

I polish the surface of a chunky-looking whiskey glass until it sparkles under the low lights. It feels like the…fifteenth time I’ve done this tonight?

Who’s counting? Not me, obviously.

On the other side of the mahogany bar, one of my regulars flicks through his wallet, his fingers fumbling over each bill. Without a word, he draws a five dollar note out and slides it over the bench. Returning his silence, I take it and tuck it into my apron, picking up a new glass and pouring Mason a rather generous serve of bourbon. Neat. He downs it in one go before slumping back over his arms. It’s the wordless interactions I like best with him. No need to dawdle with small talk.

Actions speak louder or something like that.

The door swings open, groaning beneath its own weight.

“Evenin’, Stel,” comes the gruff tone of Paulie. He takes up the whole doorframe, barely able to squeeze his shoulders through. Hailing from the north-east coast of a sunny country across the orbit, he’s a great friend of mine. He always spends a fortune here.

“The usual?” I ask with a smile, reaching for the fridge. He nods and I take out his pick of poison, a stout with notes of lemon, before setting it down on a coaster next to Mason.

“You wouldn’t believe what the boys and I caught out on the strait last week,” Paulie chuckles as he shuffles his bum on the seat. “Take a guess.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know the first thing about fishing,” I admit, reminiscing over my days as a young child up in the highlands. “Was it a big one?”

“Too big for fish and chips, so…”

“…you had to let ‘er go.”

I’m no stranger to the monsters that lurk about the Western Brelsford Strait, but lately it seems like the fishermen aren’t able to catch anything. It’s only fitting that the only fish sly enough to slip away from the beasties are impervious to humans as well.

“I’m not givin’ up, Stel,” he assures me, cracking open his can of stout. “Not one bit.” Taking a swig, he adds on: “If I could find a really big fishie, one for the record books…now that’d be somethin’.”

“Mate…you’re dreamin’…” Mason murmurs before sinking back into his sleep. Paulie scratches at his scruffy salt-and-pepper beard.

“On the couch again?” he chortles back.

“Piss off…”

“That’s enough, you two…” I warn them, although I try my best to hide it behind a playful tone. “Heard the ninth Magna Carta’s going to emerge tonight! Aren’t you excited?” As I pick up my next glass to polish, I raise an eyebrow. “Could be any one of us!”

“Nah…too much responsibility…” Mason mumbles.

“Y’think I’d be worthy enough, Miss Amero?” Paulie adds on. “I’m a fisherman who can’t even catch a fish! Nah, nah…if it’s anyone I know, I reckon it’d be you!”

“Me?!” I scoff back. “I’m a barmaid, for cryin’ out loud!”

“You just get people, Stel. You’d be a natural!”

“Well, I don’t know about that, Paulie…”

“If you’re chosen to be part of the ninth Magna Carta, Miss Stella Amero…” Paulie pauses his proposal to scull the rest of his stout. “If you’re chosen? I’ll retire.”

“That’s bold of you!”

He shrugs his shoulders and passes me another note.

As I leave Paulie and Mason to their vices, I scan around for something to do, something to occupy my time. There’s not really much I’ve got left to do. I’ve just about polished, scrubbed, scraped and otherwise cleaned everything that needs cleaning. Can’t do my cash yet, I’ll need to wait until I close at midnight. And well…I think it’s only a matter of time before Paulie stumbles out, offering Mason a crash on his couch again tonight. They’re the oddest duo I’ve ever met, that’s for sure.

But they’re my friends.

If it wasn’t for Brelsford City’s bylaws, I’d keep the place open all night. Hire a young and snappy night owl, drop in to have a chat with them every few hours. But I’d be forking over extra tax, additional fees and expenses…I just don’t have the money for it right now.

I don’t really know what power the Magna Carta has in a place like this. But if I was part of it, I’d can all the ridiculous fees. This place used to be Hybridia’s most beloved leisure and party district, the place everyone would go to celebrate. But ever since that awful night…

I shudder even thinking about it.

“The night’s young…” Paulie ushers me. “You should go out! Get some fresh air…”

“Oh, I’ll be alright. I’ve still got some work—”

“I reckon those glasses are about as clean as you can get ‘em. Gotta live your life, Stel!”

I glance around. It’s not like anyone’s dying for a drink…

And besides, everything’s already done.

“Alright,” I agree.

As Paulie and Mason shuffle off their seats, I notice a photo poking out from the former’s wallet. I barely catch a glimpse before he catches my stare.

“Who’s that woman?” I ask in an effort to break the silence.

“Woman?” he scoffs. “She’s more than just a woman, Stel. She’s an Archangel of the Eighth Magna Carta!”

“An Archangel?” I peer at the photo, pinching it from his grasp. I can’t help but to notice her elegance, augmented by her stunning gaze. “Is this…who I think it is? But I thought she went missing after her husband—“

“So did we. But some say she’s been lingering around the Interstellar Hybrid Agency’s office…keepin’ an eye on that Occuli girl.”

“Didn’t think you were still engrossed in their affairs, Paulie,” I retort as I usher them out through the front doors, “especially after what happened to your daughter. It’s been years…and you’re tellin’ me they still don’t know what happened to her?”

“I’ve got a feelin’ Lady Hines knows.” He lowers his gaze, a much sterner look than the cheery one I know. “But tryin’ to ask her is about as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. Every time I think I see ‘er…I never have the courage to ask.”

“You’ll find Celine one day,” I promise him with a smile. There’s that twinkle in his eyes again.

“Thanks, love. We will.”