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Lucifer's Kiss

A pub crawl out of this world...

By J L AtwellPublished 2 years ago 14 min read
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Lucifer's Kiss
Photo by Sérgio Alves Santos on Unsplash

“And don’t come back!” the bouncer shouted, tossing Monty out onto the street. He slammed the club’s back door behind him, muting the deafening techno inside.

Monty groaned, sitting up on the asphalt. His lip felt tender from where some girl’s boyfriend had sucker punched him. He licked at the sore spot and grimaced as he tasted blood.

Bastard, he thought. All I did was offer to buy her a drink. Okay, and maybe I winked at her a little bit.

He struggled to his feet and began shuffling down the street. Where to, he didn’t know. He enjoyed the city after dark, and he wasn’t going to let a little bar brawl get in the way of him having a good night. As he continued on, he realized that he no longer recognized the names on street signs. The buildings around him looked brooding and unfamiliar. As he felt his anxiety starting to build, he spotted a neon glow in the distance.

Where there’s neon, there’s a good time, he thought with a grin. He set off in the direction of the soft glow, his anxiety replaced with excitement. He always loved finding a new place to have some fun, which wasn’t often considering that he had been to every bar and club in the city. As he neared the light, he was able to make out what the neon said.

Lucifer’s Kiss...good name for a bar...or a strip club. Either way, he was going in.

He could hear the patrons inside as he approached the beaten wood doors, as well as music. He began to feel uneasy for some reason, and the air was thick and heavy, which was odd for mid-autumn. He pushed past it and slipped into the building, a bell jingling overhead to announce his arrival.

At first glance, it looked like an average, run-of-the-mill bar. There were a couple of pool tables and dart boards on one side, tables on the other. The bar took up the entirety of the back wall, its shelves lined with bottles of all shapes and sizes. However, as Monty looked around, he noticed something was different about the patrons. One of them appeared to have eyes with vertical slits, like a cat, and Monty felt instantly uneasy as he tried to recall if he had dropped acid at the club earlier. Shaking his head and blinking rapidly to make sure his vision was okay, he approached the bar.

The bartender turned around, his eyes suddenly growing wide as he saw Monty, then narrowing. “How did you get in here?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“Through the door?” Monty responded, his voice raising the statement into a question.

“But—how—oh, forget it. What can I get you to drink, kid?” the bartender sighed.

“Surprise me.”

The bartender shrugged and began preparing a drink. It wasn’t until then that Monty noticed that there was a second pair of arms growing out of the bartender’s torso.

“What is this place?” he asked quietly, spotting a patron with three eyes and pointed ears.

The bartender snorted. “You don’t know? This is one of those in between spaces, the ones that straddle the line of being here and being there. Get me?” He set Monty’s drink on the bar in front of him.

Monty looked around the bar as he sipped at his drink. A man with two heads was arguing with himself while playing pool with a woman that had the body of a spider. Two short, goblin-looking creatures were sitting across from each other at a table nearby, eating a plate of bugs. Monty grimaced and looked away.

A woman in a tight black dress caught his eye, and she smiled as they made eye contact. She was standing by the front door with her arms crossed. Some guy with the head of a goat was talking to her, but she was no longer paying attention to what he was saying. She winked at Monty and started to come over towards the bar. Monty downed the rest of his drink, hoping it would turn into courage by the time she made it over to him.

The woman sidled up to Monty, sliding onto the adjacent barstool. “Well hello there,” she said with a grin. Her voice was like hot butter, warm and dripping with savory goodness. “I haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name?”

As Monty began to answer, the bartender cut him off. “Hey, no working in my bar, Mara. The man is just trying to have a drink. He probably won’t be in here for much longer anyways,” he grumbled.

Monty gave him a quizzical look. What does he mean by that?

Mara bared her teeth at the bartender and then pouted at Monty. “Too bad I can’t attach a name to that handsome face. Maybe I’ll see you on the outside sometime, darling.” She patted his cheek and winked before slinking away.

Monty turned to the bartender. “Dude, I would have totally had that in the bag, what the—”

The bartender held up a hand to stop him. “Listen kid, I like you, but you’re clueless. I’m not sure how you got in here, but I don’t want you to get tangled up with all the things going down in here, okay? Mostly because I’m not certain that you should even be in a joint like this in the first place. So let’s lay down some ground rules so that you make it out of here unscathed, okay?”

Monty grumbled to himself but nodded slowly.

“Great. First, don’t tell anyone your name. Not your real one, at least. That’s how these guys get control of you, especially little numbers like Mara,” the bartender explained.

“‘Get control’?” Monty looked at him, confused. “Also, what did you mean by ‘no working’?” He lowered his voice. “Is she a prostitute?”

The bartender stared at Monty for a moment and then erupted into laughter. “Mara? A prostitute? It’s not too far from the truth, kid. Oh man, I forgot how funny you humans can be.” He wiped a tear from his eye, leaning against the bar. “She’s a succubus.”

“Oh,” Monty said softly. “What are you, if you don’t mind me asking, um...what’s your name?”

“You can call me Mo,” the bartender said, sticking out one of his left hands.

Monty took it. “And you can call me—”

“I’ll just call you ‘kid’, kid,” Mo said with a grin. “Stick by the bar while you’re here and I’ll make sure your glass is always half full, get me?” He winked at Monty and started cleaning a glass. “So, rule numero uno, don’t tell anyone your name. Second, try to avoid eye contact, it’s an invitation to come over and take a swing at stealing your soul.”

“I wouldn’t have minded Mara stealing from me.”

Mo snorted. “I suppose most humans wouldn’t.”

“You said that this is an ‘in between’ place. What does that mean?”

Mo sighed and leaned against the counter. He gestured out towards the floor. “Does this look like a regular bar to you? Look at my customers.”

Monty looked around the bar again. He caught glimpses of horns barely tucked under hats, tails peeking out from the bottoms of long coats, hooves clopping against the floor. Then, it dawned on him. “Hell. We’re between Earth and Hell.”

“Bingo. You’re not as stupid as I thought.”

“But—how—why a bar?”

Mo shrugged. “Easier to snag weak souls with simple vices. That’s what the big man down south said anyways.”

The big man? Oh shit, is he talking about the Devil?

Monty played it cool. “So, Mo, what are you? Wait, don’t tell me. You’re an incubus.”

Mo rolled his eyes. “Funny. I’m half ogre, half troll. Luckily, I pulled hard from the ogre side of things, because trolls...well...let’s just say that my mother is a little more terrifying than what you humans think of trolls.” Mo went on to describe his mother and Monty listened intently as he talked about his family. Mo also talked about different patrons, letting Monty know which ones were the most dangerous.

“Those little imps couldn’t hurt a fly if they tried,” Mo said with a laugh, pointing at the two creatures at the table nearby that Monty saw earlier. “And trust me, they do try. They’re kind of cute, actually.”

Mo gestured to another table. “Gello over there is a triplet. I don’t see her sisters here tonight, though. Individually, they’re relatively harmless. Nice girls, really. However, when they’re together, look out boy, you’ve got another thing coming. They’ll eat your soul for breakfast faster than you can say ‘omelette du fromage’.”

Monty looked at the woman clad in a long dress, her hair hanging around her face as she sipped out of a cocktail glass with a pink umbrella in it. Her eyes were darting around the room, her knuckles white as she gripped her glass tightly. He could tell she didn’t like being alone. He felt a shiver run down his spine when they briefly made eye contact. He caught sight of Mara, her head thrown back in laughter as an imp talked to her.

“What about Mara?” he asked Mo, watching her as she talked.

Mo snorted. “What about her?”

“How dangerous is she?”

Mo sighed. “Now look, I know it’s exciting, but don’t be getting mixed up with her. She’s more fragile than she looks, but she’ll kill you if you cross her.”

Monty raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Mo nodded sadly, looking in her direction. He told Monty about how she had been trying to steal one guy’s soul and he told her about his life and how much he hated who he was. She had taken pity on him and tried to help him instead. They developed feelings for each other, and it was a good relationship for a time.

“That’s her weakness, really. She may be from Hell, but the girl has a heart of gold when it comes down to it. And he took advantage of that,” Mo grumbled. “He forgot who helped him turn his life around, became a drunk and a junkie. One night he was three sheets to the wind and hit her.”

“What happened then?”

Mo smiled. “Mara turned him into a pile of ash. Vacuumed him up with the Hoover and then came here and got wasted.”

Monty gulped, looking back in her direction. She looked so lively, so ethereal. Could someone that beautiful really be capable of something so terrible?

“Anyways, I’m amazed you even got in here. There’s a barrier that...ah, it's nothing, come to think of it,” Mo dismissed, cleaning a glass.

“Oh no, you can’t just start something like that,” Monty said, finishing his second drink. He looked down at his empty glass. “What is this, anyways?”

Mo grinned. “My own special mix. I call it ‘Mo’s Mix’. It’s not the most creative name out there, but at least it’s not something stupid like ‘Fuzzy Navel’. Who the hell thought that would be a good name for a drink?”

Monty laughed. “Yeah, that’s true. What were you saying now about some barrier?”

“You’re tough to distract, huh? There’s a barrier that cloaks the bar from most humans, which is why we don’t get a lot in here. Most of our mortal patrons are here to...pass,” Mo finally said.

“What do you mean, ‘pass’?”

“They come here to go to Hell. It’s like a bridge, see? Which is why I’m surprised you’re in here, you don’t seem like the kind of guy that’s already got a foot in the gate.” Mo chuckled. “Who knows, maybe you’ve got a bit of demon in you.”

Monty laughed and ordered another drink. He enjoyed talking with Mo. They exchanged stories about old girlfriends and talked about their lives. Monty talked about a girl in his sophomore year at college that made a scrapbook of him, and Mo told him about a rather clingy demoness that tried to kill him after he told her he needed space.

“You would think she would get the hint, but she still pops in from time to time and tries to win me back. It’s enough to make a guy want to hire bouncers,” Mo chuckled.

Monty smiled as Mo talked. He kept thinking about what Mo had said, about him not looking like someone on their way to an eternity with Lucifer and company.

I’m not a bad guy, but I’m not necessarily ‘good’ either, he thought, finishing his drink. I’m not terrible though. Would I go to Hell?

He felt a tap on his shoulder interrupt him from his thoughts. It was Mara, a sly grin on her face.

“How’s our little mortal doing?” she asked, winking at him.

He smiled back. She couldn’t be as bad as Mo said, but he still felt nervous. “I’m doing alright,” he replied, trying to keep his voice even.

“Hey, Mara—” Mo warned.

“I’m just here to order a drink, not steal his soul, calm down, Mo,” Mara said, rolling her eyes. She turned to Monty. “What have you been drinking, darling? Mo’s Mix?”

Monty nodded, his unease evaporating as she smiled at him.

“Sounds good. An appletini for me and a Mo’s Mix for this handsome gentleman,” Mara said with a wink at Monty.

Mo grumbled to himself as he turned around to make their drinks.

Mara leaned against the bar. “So, how are you liking our little establishment? I’m sure Mo’s been talking your ear off about the place.”

Monty and Mara started talking about the bar, about other bars in the city, the best clubs to go to. She laughed as he told her about what had happened to him earlier in the night, which caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry, I just find jealousy to be the cause of so many meaningless conflicts,” she explained, sipping at her drink.

Monty asked her a few questions about herself, what she liked about Earth, what she didn’t. Her favorite flowers were roses and she liked rain.

“I’m a hopeless romantic, really,” she giggled. “I’ve read every romance novel under the sun.”

“Even the bad ones?”

“Especially the bad ones! Those are the most entertaining,” she said with a smile. “So, can I get your name yet or do I have to buy you more than just a drink first?”

Monty finished his drink. “I would love to tell you Mara, but I’m rather fond of my soul.”

Mara grinned and winked at him. “Smart boy. I don’t really want your soul though. Not now, at least.” Her look softened, her face dropping its seductive mask and exchanging it for vulnerability. Monty felt a pain in his chest as he remembered what Mo had told him about what had happened to her before. Her face was put back on as quickly as it had disappeared, and she winked and left, but Monty could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

A phone began to ring and Mo answered it, his three other arms continuing to work as he took the call, shaking and pouring drinks. Monty watched as he nodded, talking quietly into the phone. When he hung up, he sighed. “Alright kid, we should probably get you out of here,” Mo said sadly.

“Why? I’m having a good time and you’re the best bartender I’ve ever had.”

Mo smiled. “I appreciate that kid, but—”

“Oh. A human...how lovely,” came a voice.

Monty turned to see a man in a burgundy suit with an amused look on his face. “And what’s your name?” the man asked, grinning.

Monty felt uneasy as the man looked at him intently. Remembering what Mo had said, Monty began trying to come up with a convincing fake name, but the man started laughing.

“Montgomery Phillips, you think I don’t know you already?” the man chuckled quietly so only Monty could hear.

Monty felt his blood run cold. The bar had gone silent, everyone’s attention on Monty and the man in the burgundy suit. Who is this guy? How does he know my name?

“You don’t belong here, boy. Not yet, anyway,” the man added with a small grin. “Go on, and have a nice night. Maybe one day you can come back.”

“See you around, kid,” Mo said sadly, holding one of his left hands out again. Monty took it, and felt something press into his palm. He exchanged a look with Mo and clenched his fist tightly as he drew away from the bar.

Monty could feel the eyes of every patron on him as he exited. Mara blew him a kiss as he walked past. “Bye for now, darling,” she said with a grin, discreetly holding out a small slip of paper to him.

Monty smiled at her as he came close and took the paper. Mara gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then he left, the bell jingling overhead again. As soon as the door closed behind him, he heard the music come back on and heard the patrons laughing and talking again. Halfway down the street, he turned around, and the bar was gone.

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the spot he was sure it had just been. There was nothing. He looked down at his hand. It was a recipe for Mo’s Mix, and on the back was a phone number for the bar. He looked at the paper from Mara.

Call me sometime, darling. PS: I won’t try to steal your soul, I promise, it read. It had a phone number and an address written on it. He could still feel her lips on his cheek. With a devilish grin, he walked home, thinking about when he would see Mara again.

Fantasy
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About the Creator

J L Atwell

An aspiring fantasy fiction writer with a novel in the works.

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