1

It was around ten minutes after seven, by the time the sorcerer squad had finished locking away all the pirates in the back of their wagons. The sun was slowly setting, and the sky had grown dark. The shadows were coming out to play now and the hustle and bustle of the day could no longer be heard. The clientele still came, but the rush hour was over. The gang mostly sat around with nothing to do, playing on their magic mirrors and chatting about how they would spend their days off. The work week had just started, but everyone was already in talks about what they would do on the weekend.

Borka and Dorsea planned on going to an art festival, Lou would write songs (he was once inspired by a bard), and Crest would dive deep into a few spellbooks he had purchased (he often didn’t feel like it by the time work ended).

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

Hours went by and it was getting close to ten O’clock. Closing time. Everyone pitched in to make sure the place was spic and span. Crest wiped down the tables and seats with a wet rag and the girls washed dishes. While the crew finished prepping the place for tomorrow, a few more patrons came in for drinks, about two or three of them, but Lou had them up and leave around 9:45.

The last few minutes were quiet. Dorsea and Lou prepared their lanterns. They were ready to head out but got held up by Borka, who was still on the toilet. After a few minutes, she finally emerged from the restroom. She grabbed her light and grouped with the rest.

“Alright Crest,” Lou’s attention turned toward the one that would be left behind. “Remember you still have to lock up before you go to sleep. Even though the front door is gonna need replacin’, we still have to do what we can to keep the Drunken Tankard secure.”

“Yes, sir!” Crest gave a salute as he saw them off.

“See you tomorrow Crest,” Borka said sweetly heading out the front door behind the rest.

“See ya tomorrow Borka,” Crest bid her farewell also.

The door shut and Crest’s friends vanished. They would be going home for the night. Crest no longer had a home. He could afford one now, but he chose to save his money. Since he had planned to travel one day he told himself buying a home was a pointless financial investment. That’s when he formed a contract. For his services, Lou offered Crest one of the guest rooms upstairs. He had been sleeping there ever since he had gotten evicted from his old home for being unable to pay his rent. He had gotten used to his living arrangements. Though they weren’t the best, he found he had become content. And after closing, he had the whole place to himself. Delightful!

Before he forgot to do so, Crest flipped the lock on the front door, making sure he wouldn’t receive any unnecessary visitors.

Now that the shop had closed for the night and he was all alone, Crest considered it might be time to retire. But the sudden urge for something to drink overcame his parched mouth. The beer was supposed to be for paying customers, but he was sure Lou wouldn’t mind. He grabbed a tankard and poured a drink from one of the kegs. He was pouring long enough that his mug practically overflowed and some of his drink dripped onto the floor. Making his way back across the dining room, he chose to sit at the table that was directly located in front of the hearth which had been burning brightly over the course of the night and showed no signs of dying.

Attempting to get cozy, Crest adjusted himself in his seat and laid his beer down on the table. His left leg crossed the other, his position becoming twisted. The blazing heat of the fire warmed him. He looked into that fire with a deadpan look. Spires of flame danced in the furnace, like a mamboing sun. Crest let out a sigh. The day had been long. And though he didn’t consider himself to work nearly as hard as his cohorts, he felt he could finally breathe the sigh of relief that he couldn’t during the day. During open hours, he kept himself on high alert, always looking for a sign of trouble. And though there hadn’t been a foe that had managed to get the best of him yet, he did find himself fearing that a day like that might come. But by himself, when he was alone, he didn’t have to think about that.

Though what he did think about wasn’t much better.

Sure, he enjoyed the peace and quiet of solitude. It put him at ease, but when he wasn’t focused on finishing a task or a hobby, his mind would wander. His stupid brain would remember things it didn’t need to. Things like memories. Some of them were good, others not so good. Others were outright bad. Either way they went, they caused him to think too much. And for a moment he thought he felt a memory creeping its way back into his heart. This one was a bad one.

He thought about how he had called himself a monster earlier that day, how he seemed so proud when he told Leo that’s how he felt inside. It hadn’t always been that way. He recalled there was a time when the moniker had become offensive to him.

As he was staring into the fire, something odd happened to him. It appeared as though the flames started to take shape, something different from their formless form. Crest did a double-take. It could have been a hallucination, a trick of the eyes even, but he swore he saw the form of a woman in the inferno. And it didn’t appear to be just any woman……it was that woman. The one who had left him scorned.

You should stick to killing monsters like you.

Those words of malice played back in his mind. Crest held his head in his hand, suddenly feeling an ache. Staring at his palm he noticed for the first time in hours that he was still in the beast form, his black clawed hand engulfing his face. He had gotten so used to the transformation he would often forget that wasn’t how he was supposed to look. Crest grunted, feeling pained, and his shadow receded revealing the man underneath it. Like a hunk of goo, the gooky black thing stuck the floor.

What would Charmaine think of him now, now that he could actually become a monster? Now that he could become a thing of nightmares? She’d probably think even worse of him. When he would think back on her, A.K.A, when he was thinking too hard, he would feel guilty. Guilty that he actually enjoyed being a beast. When he was in his feelings, those he felt deep down, but neglected, he couldn’t help but ponder if who he was, was a problem. Maybe there was something wrong with being a monster. Maybe there was something wrong with being him.

But this was all just in his mind. He tried to convince his still broken heart that he had only imagined her shape in the fire. After all, it was crazy to think something like that was possible at all. He stared at his beer. He considered if he was hallucinating, he probably didn’t need to both be drunk and hallucinating. But he took a swig anyway.

Having a few unsatisfied sips of his drink, it wasn’t long before he decided he no longer wanted it. He poured what he didn’t want out over the fire leaving the downstairs room in darkness. He stumbled towards the stairs unable to see, but still familiar with his surroundings enough to make his way around. Retreating to his bedroom, he was done for the day. Once there, he unfastened his sword and passed out in his bed which was more just a mattress on the floor. He rolled around trying to get some sleep, but he was having trouble. He couldn’t get his mind off Charmaine.

2

Crest’s eyes stared up at the ceiling in his room.

Monster.

That label had become so familiar to him. Even before he met Charmaine, he knew that word well. As Crest tossed and turned in his sheets, he started to remember how things were some years ago. He, his father, his brother, and Leo used to hunt together. Those were the days when he first realized the difference between monsters and men. There had never been a question of what camp he belonged to; he had been told all his life what he was. Whether he agreed with what he was or not didn’t matter in the long run, he always found himself accepting it at the end of the day.

We’re monsters Crest. We kill monsters, not men.

The memories of his father’s lessons started to come back; he always wanted the best for Crest. Crest missed him. The days of hunting game for their evening dinners seemed like just yesterday. Crest had come a long way since that time. He was different now.

Crest pulled his blanket up over his face.

“I’ll find you dad, you too Seal.”

It took some time, but exhaustion finally got the better of Crest and he fell asleep.