Chapter 5
On its best days, Josie’s was a bit of a dive. The stained glass front window coated with a layer of nicotine, neon light by the front door flickering in its old age. Matt loved the every inch of the dusty bar, loved the mugs-of-dubious-cleanliness brimming over with frothy beer, loved the juke box that only played three songs, loved sitting in the corner and observing the thrumming humanity all around him.
He was a regular here, with his own table, and his own ‘usual’ order waiting for him before he even sat down. The bartender was head over heels for him, when she could remember his existence. That was a bit of a problem. The love thing. The memory thing.
Everyone he met was instantly charmed by him, by his crooked smile and the way he encircled their wrists with his graceful fingers as he shook their hands. They were charmed by his self-effacing yet sharp wit, the little jokes he made about his blindness set them at ease. He didn’t dwell on it, and neither should they. His sight taken from him by his father in lieu of other abilities. It wasn’t much of a price to pay, not to him. The sounds and smells of New York were plentiful, and they filled the spaces of his mind with varying hues just as he imagined light would, bouncing gently off beautiful symmetrical and interestingly twisted faces alike.
Women fell in love with him at the drop of a hat. He could hear it in their shortness of breath, in the way their hearts raced when he touched them, the way their skin flushed with a heat that was borderline feverish. They ached for him. He could sense that too, a divinely sinful scent on the air when they hit on him. It was easy. He was the God of love after all.
But he always grew bored with his conquests, and they quickly forgot him mere moments after he passed from their presence. A blessing really, since he didn’t think he’d ever really reciprocated the passion that was directed at him, even though he yearned for it.
The desire filled every space inside of him, the magic of love swirling around in his veins, pouring from his fingertips at the slightest provocation. He lived vicariously through other people, watching them burst at the seams with affection for one another, a warmth radiating from them that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air. That’s why he loved Josie’s.
Nearly every soul that passed through the dirty glass doors of the bar was heartbroken, whether it was because of some failed relationship or because whatever dreams they’d had for their lives hadn’t panned out. It didn’t really matter. Matt could suss out the hopelessness and the desperation. He knew when two souls would fit right together, their jagged edges clicking together like puzzle pieces.
It was his gift to humanity, the little darts of magic that shot from his fingertips like arrows, flying unerringly to their targets. The fog of sadness dissipating in the smoky blue haze of the bar.
Tonight there was something heavy hanging in the air, a menacing electrical charge that set the hairs on his arm standing on end. The patrons around him could feel it too, conversations strangely subdued, people mostly keeping to themselves as they nursed their drinks. Matt braced for something ominous.
Just the feeling was at its most intense, the doors swung open, causing more than a few people to snap their heads up. Matt tensed, immediately recognizing the tall glowering man, the source of the foreboding sensations. He waved one hand toward the bartender, calling out an order. “Lou, could I get a refill on this ale, and I’m sure my friend would like a double shot of your finest whiskey.”
Reluctantly, the man at the door turned toward Matt, the expression his face just short of disgust. He grunted Matt’s secret name, nodding to acknowledge the invitation.
The bartender glanced at them warily, and Matt turned back toward the door, the wry smile on his lips freezing as he sensed the person behind the god of the underworld. She was everything Frank wasn’t. Warm and inviting, life skittering along the surface of her skin, heart fluttering nervously in the wake of her nonplussed companion. Matt focused his attention on her, feeling almost helpless against the tug of her lifeforce. “And what would the lady like?”
Frank pulled up two chairs, waiting until the woman had taken a seat before sitting across from Matt.
Matt was fascinated by the reverential treatment Frank bestowed on his ethereal companion, by the protective way the bigger man placed himself between her and the door. He wouldn’t comment on it, of course. He didn’t want a black eye. Women always had pitying questions when he sported shiners. It put a damper on his social life. He turned to her, asking again, “A drink?”
“Make that another whiskey.”
She smiled, he could hear it in her voice, feel it in the way she sat at an angle from him, leaning almost in his direction, golden tendrils of warmth tentatively putting out feelers. His eyebrows shot up. So, she wasn’t just some human subject of Hades. She was something else entirely. He smiled back, unable to help the way his magic began to swirl inside of him.
Matt ignored the obvious death glare Frank was casting in his direction, focusing entirely on the woman. He put out his hand. “Since our friend here is about as socially adept as a grizzly bear, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Matt.”
She reached for his hand, the heat of a blush suffusing her skin. “Karen.”
He drew circles on the back of her hand, letting her name roll around a bit in his head. “Karen, that fits you. Although…” He trailed off, something pulling at the edges of his consciounsness. “It’s not quite the whole story is it?”
Frank glared at Eros. The God of love. What a bunch of bullshit. The lesser god dealt in shallow infatuation, leaving a string of disastrous pairings in his wake. Frank watched as Matt charmed Karen, her body language receptive but nervous. His fingers twitched, itching to curl into a fist and meet up with the other man’s face a couple dozen times.
Frank felt… something. It wasn’t a feeling he’d been afflicted with in a very long time. He felt protective over Karen, sure, but this was something else. A little hot spike of possessiveness hitting him in the gut. He tried to bat away the thought as soon as it entered his mind. He reminded himself that she was nothing but a nuisance to him, an interruption in the miserable life he’d only recently begun accept.
The waitress arrived with their drinks. Frank snatching his doubleshot off the tray before she could even set it down. He downed the burning liquid. “That’s enough, Murdock. Maybe you can keep it in your pants long enough to actually be useful.”
Karen laughed at the put-upon expression on Matt’s face, an honest bubble of amusement breaking the surface of her previously wary countenance. It surprised Frank. He had expected irritation or even anger at him interrupting her tête-à-tête with the suave god of love. But she turned to smile at him, right before downing her own shot of whiskey.
Matt leaned back in his chair, an air of defeat surrounding him as he turned his attention back to Frank. “Since you asked so nicely, of course.”
“You here most nights?”
Matt nodded.
“You ever notice any… unsavory types making regular stops, picking up packages…”
Matt took a long pull from his mug of ale, savoring the dark flavor as he pondered Frank’s question. “What kind of packages?”
“Cash. This shithole’s a drop bar.”
Matt scanned his memory. There had been a gray little man, devoid of any defining features, stopped by at the same time every Tuesday night, always walked right behind the bar and ducked down under the taps to grab something. Matt had noted how strange it was for someone to walk into a bar and not say a word to anyone. He told Frank about the little man.
“That’s all you got? Some short, silent, creep? That’s not really all that helpful.”
Matt smirked at him, tapping the dark lenses of his round glasses. “I can’t exactly tell you what color his hair was. He was short, heavy…” He shifted his index finger to the side of his nose. “... went a little light on the deodorant, possibly smoked clove cigarettes.” Matt drained the last of his drink. “And like I said, every Tuesday, clockwork.”
Frank drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s Monday.”
Matt turned to look at Karen. “He’s always like this.”
Her eyes widened. It was strange, but while the two men had been talking her thoughts had been wandering. Little pulses of energy making the hairs on her arms stand up, Frank’s voice echoing pleasantly in her ears without conveying any real information. It was like she was intoxicated, but she’d only had one drink. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense. “I’m sorry, what?”
Frank’s eyes narrowed, focusing in on Matt. “Cut the shit, Murdock.”
Suddenly Karen was clear headed once more. The bar looked dingier. Had everything been just a little bit rosy earlier? She blinked furiously. What the hell was going on? “Um, I think… I need to use the ladies room. I’ll be right back.”
Frank watched her go, waiting until she disappeared behind a dark swinging door to snarl at Matt, “Don’t lay that bullshit on her.”
Matt shrugged. “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t trying to deceive her… I was just curious. It’s not every day that Hades walks into a dive bar with…” Matt paused, trying to figure out just exactly what was so different about Karen. “... someone like that.” He frowned. “I couldn’t really see anything. It’s unusual.”
Matt looked somewhat unsettled. He could see the jagged edges of Frank’s soul as clear as day in his mind’s eye. They were sharp and cold. Frank wore the damage like a badge of honor, refusing to hide it. Matt shivered. It was curiosity that had propelled him. He wanted to see Karen’s soul, to know… How on earth could this woman be mixed up with Hades? He redoubled his apology. “Sorry, man, force of habit. And yes, it’s Monday, which means if you come back tomorrow, you’ll have your nondescript smelly friend.”
Frank nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. This hopping between dimensions, dragging a companion along with him, had sapped his energy. It was just as well. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Karen looked at herself in the mirror, cheeks rosy, eyes glassy. God she looked like she was three sheets to the wind, and... happy? It was so strange. There was something about Frank’s friend, something intoxicating and more than a little unsettling. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.
Splashing water on her face, she told herself that she needed to pull it together.
Frank was waiting for her just outside the bathroom, the man with the round glasses nowhere in sight. He helped her into a jacket, one that she didn’t remember taking off, and they left the bar.
Walking the streets of New York like this, close but not quite touching, the brisk air whipping around them, everything felt clean and real. For the first time since her little nap in the park she was beginning to feel normal again, and with that came a bit of a complication. She finally had to admit that she wasn’t dreaming, that somehow this was really her life.
She shivered, and Frank wordlessly came up beside her, hand resting at the small of her back. “Cold? We’re almost there, just a few more blocks.”
She hadn’t even asked where they were going, giving into the absurdity before her. He probably had some god-penthouse in the west-village with minion doormen and harpies guarding the towers. She smiled to herself.
She was mildly surprised when he stopped in front of what looked like a warehouse, bending down low scoop a key out of an empty flower pot. He tugged at the bottom of what looked like a very large garage door, grunting in satisfaction when the mechanism caught. She watched the thing silently slide out of sight, revealing spacious living quarters. It may not have been a penthouse on the Upper West Side, but it was none too shabby.
He shrugged his coat off, hanging it gently on a nearby hook before turning to shut the door. “We’ll spend the night here. I’ve got some leads I want to run down tomorrow, then we’ll go stake out Josie’s.”
She was already walking toward the bed tucked into the back corner of the studio, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. “Sounds like a plan…” They were calling to her, the down comforter and fluffy pillows. She’d never seen anything so inviting.
In seconds she was lying flat on the surface, snoring gently with her head shoved into a couple pillows.
Frank cursed. Murdock must have really laid the magic on thick, bathing her in it as he searched for answers. She must have been unconsciously using her own magic to shield herself, holding it up the entire time she was talking to the little prick. It looked like Frank wasn’t the only one completely sapped. With a groan, he sank down into the chair at the foot of the bed, barely getting his boots off before sleep overcame him.