Chapter Two

Wes sat behind the bar stacking clean highball glasses on top of each other as Toby Keith blared from the jukebox in a thin, metallic whine. Wes sighed. He really needed to get that contraption fixed one of these days. Heaven help him if Toby Keith ever heard how the jukebox made him sound. Wes knew he needed to get a lot of things fixed one day. Unfortunately, one day was too far away and funds were always too low. Everglades had a faithful clientele, being a shifter bar and all, but it wasn’t busting at the seams with patrons. Enough people came to keep the doors open, but never enough to fix the place up. Still, Everglades couldn’t be that much of a dump if the people kept coming in to booze it up. Unless, of course, the booze is just that good, Wes chuckled to himself.

Some may consider Everglades to be a dive bar, but to Wes the place meant everything. His life began when he found this structure for the first time. When he first entered Everglades, it was love at first sight. Like Paden in the movie Silverado, Wes was never happier than when he was in a saloon. As soon as he passed through the front door, the clink of ice in a highball glass and the scuff of barstools greeted him as they scooted across the wooden floor. The aroma of stale beer, smoke, and sweat from too many bodies pressed together filled the air. The place overflowed with regulars, some huddled together in intimate whispers, while others filled the room with their stories and laughter. The owner back then, a white-haired old codger named Skip Wilson, took a shine to Wes right away and offered Bull Creek’s newest resident a job that very same day. Wes busted his ass so much at the bar that when Skip passed away, he left Everglades to Wes in his will free and clear. It was the greatest thing anyone had ever done for him.

Wes’ life continued to improve when Noel walked through the front door of Everglades. Of course, the curvaceous blond was a lot better looking—and sturdier—than the wooden structure that appeared fabricated out of discarded planks from some broken-down construction site. Scratched wooden chairs and tables, most of which wobbled when touched too hard filled the bar. Weak mirrors and flashing beer logos covered the walls while that broken-down jukebox kept most people entertained and even dancing. The best feature of Everglades were the servers, all hot looking women in skimpy skirts with ample bosoms that loved to flirt for those extra tips. Noel was one of those serving girls, but she was all his, no matter how much she flirted with others. Of course, Wes had to admit, her flirting stoked his fires and made for some hot meetings in his office.

Still, Wes wished he could at least invest some kind of money into the place and perk it up a bit. Even a few new songs in the jukebox would be something.

“You doing all right?” Brianna Hughes asked as she brought a stack of bar towels up and stuffed them under the wooden bar. “You seem kind of pensive.”

The door opened, and a dark-haired man, wearing a suit and tie, entered alone. Wes glanced over at the man as he walked up to the end of the bar and sat down, loosening his tie as he did. One of the other bartenders took his order—a Glenfiddich, neat—and Wes returned his attention to Brianna, sighing, his heavy shoulders rising and falling with the action. “Just feeling the pinch of pennies every time someone plays a song from that box over there. I think the artists would pay us not to play their songs if they ever heard how bad they sounded.”

Brianna just chuckled. “Well, no one has complained yet, and they keep getting out there to dance, so I’d say that’s a good thing.”

Wes shrugged. “I’m sure the ones who don’t like it just don’t come back. All the true repeat customers are from Bull Creek and Holopaw. Those who want more… substance, go to either St. Cloud or Kissimmee.”

Brianna straightened up and then leaned on the bar, her hands clasped in front of her. “Are you feeling melancholy? What’s with the doom and gloom attitude. It’s so not like you, especially since Noel showed up. What gives?”

Wes gave her a weak smile, knowing she was right. He felt sorry for himself, and he shouldn’t. Everglades was a great bar with great patrons. He should be content, and for the most part, he was. He just wanted to spruce up the place some.

“Have you ever thought about selling the place?” the man at the end of the bar asked, lowering his glass from his lips. He kept his gaze on the mirror behind the bar as he set the glass on the wooden top, staring at Wes in the glass. He shrugged. “Another owner could do what you want with the place and give you enough money to settle down and relax or take up another venture.”

Wes chuckled a little as he shook his head. “And who would want to buy Everglades? There aren’t a lot of potential new customers out here, in case you haven’t noticed. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

The man nodded, turning his glass on the bar in slow circles with his fingertips. “Perhaps, but with the right vision, the bar could attract another type of clientele, perhaps one not so… primitive.”

Wes narrowed his eyes as the man’s words set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. “I’m sorry, but who are you again?”

The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his dark hazel eyes. “I’m someone who can ease your burden while bringing back a certain normalcy to the area. As I hear it, there have been several issues lately that scared some of the more human of the locals.” He turned in his seat, his fingertips still on the edge of his glass as he faced Wes. “The area around Bull Creek is growing, civilization is encroaching on your wooded playground, and it’s time for your kind to find another home. I’m willing to help you do just that by buying your bar and giving you the capital to move. It’s why I’m here.”

“Are you here to buy my bar or just to be a prejudiced ass? I’m not sure who you’ve been talking to, but people tend to like it here in Bull Creek. And for the record, I’m not interested in the first, and we’ve had enough of the second around here to last us for a while.” Wes stood, but didn’t approach the man. He gripped the edge of the bar with white knuckles as he stared at the stranger. “So, once again, I ask; who are you?”

“Who I am is not important,” the man said, unruffled. “Who I represent, however, is. My organization, the Order of Wardens, are overseers, protecting the human race from… well, from yours. I understand the Paranormal Council of Draven Falls sent Dimitri Everest here to act as some sort of alpha of Bull Creek, but you see, we feel any paranormal creature is simply not good enough to safeguard the human population. If they were, then the humans wouldn’t have reached out to us, now would they? You’re beasts, and we would rather be done with you, and if we can’t have that, then it is our goal to drive you deeper and deeper into the wild.” He shrugged. “I am here to offer you the means to make a better start of it someplace else. However, mark my words, whether or not you take my offer, you will leave here.”

“Well, you’re a real peach, aren’t you?” Brianna said, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at the man.

Wes narrowed his eyes. “Some already tried to drive us off. Funny it was actually shifters trying to drive off the human population and the rest of us put a stop to it. As you can see, we’re still here. The coyotes couldn’t drive us out then, and neither will you now.”

The man turned back to his drink, lifted it to his lips, and downed the last remnants with one swallow. He set the glass back on the bar, straightened his jacket, and then turned to face Wes, his gaze cold and cunning. “I assure you, we are not a pack of mangy coyotes. The Order of Wardens will not fail. If I were you, I’d take my offer while it’s available. Otherwise, you’ll lose this place and have nothing to show for it. That would be a shame, since I believe you have a girlfriend you wish to provide for, right? A human, too. Obviously, one with no sense of decency, but still, if I were you, I would want to support her while you can.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and tossed a twenty on the bar along with a business card. “I’ll give you a few days to think it over. Reach out when you’ve made the right decision, but don’t wait too long. The Order of Wardens has already decided. They’ll only allow so much of a delay to their plans.” He pointed to the twenty-dollar bill. “And keep the change; you’re going to need it.” The man then turned and walked out of Everglades, his posture ramrod straight, almost as if he had a giant stick up his ass.

“Well, he was a charming fellow,” Brianna said. “Who the hell is the Order of Wardens he kept mentioning?”

Wes sighed, knowing full well who the group was. He picked up the business card the dark-haired man left behind and stared at the name. Jeremiah Prescott. “They’re a group from Draven Falls according to Dimitri. Apparently, they’re just as prejudiced as Bane was, except they have the power behind them to make our lives truly miserable.” He would need to get in touch with Dimitri and warn him of the man’s presence in Bull Creek.

Wes walked around the bar, pulling out a highball glass once he got there, and poured himself a whiskey. He downed it in one gulp. Setting the glass back on the bar, he glanced over at the door and shook his head. Bull Creek does not need to go through more of the same crap we’ve already survived. The key being they had survived, and Wes knew they would do it again if necessary.

Brianna walked over to where Wes stood, taking the bottle from his hand and pouring herself a drink. “Why do people always have to destroy what’s not exactly like them?” She downed the fiery liquid, running her tongue over her lips when she finished.

“Because it’s easier to destroy something than to embrace the uncomfortable feeling that sometimes comes with diversity.”

“Well, if he tries any of that crap around here, he’ll have a fight on his hands,” Brianna said, taking both glasses and dropping them in the sink behind the bar. “Dimitri won’t put up with that shit.”

Wes just nodded his head. Draven Falls had sent Dimitri out here so he could oversee Bull Creek and keep the place protected. Now it seems, another faction of Draven Falls wants to see that destroyed. “You’d think they’d be happy just to have it out of their city,” Wes muttered to himself. “Not be hellbent on seeing it exterminated worldwide.” He would never understand how some people could hold so much hatred.