Well, thought Ayla, guess I should make myself something to eat. I suppose I’d find eggs down below?

  Ayla strolled into the kitchen. She lifted the cellar door and walked down steep wooden stairs. They were precarious, creaking and bending under her feet. What’ll it be like to wrestle a giant keg up those steps? The cellar was chilly, lit by old hanging lanterns. As she stooped towards the floor, her feet disturbed a light blanket of fog.

  How unusual. She kneeled, reaching down, her finger tips breaching the fog. There was dirt and grass. There was another surprise! She plucked a pansy, pulling it from the fog. It was a white and violet.

  Great colors, she thought, smiling to herself. She tucked the pansy into her apron’s breast pocket. “We’ve got quite the day ahead of us,” she whispered to the flower.

  Looking ahead, the cellar’s wooden walls waved along as roots found their way through soft, water damaged cracks. There was a pleasant earthy scent accented by a slight musty tinge, but balanced by scores of sweet and savory hints from chilled food. Walking towards the other end of the cellar, she passed shelves with carrots, squash, potatoes, ginger, and more. Other shelves had a variety of jams and preservatives including apricots and raspberry. Ayla couldn’t remember the last time she had raspberries.

  Towards the middle of the cellar, she found a shelf with dozens of eggs nested on it; all of them were different colors. Each egg was sitting in a little frame, cozied up with small bits of straw. She picked out a few, one blue, one green, and one brown. She was also standing near the extra barrels of ale. She saw a few labeled Muddy Brute, a couple named Leandra Black, and one called Leandra Gold. This must be the barrel Fraz mentioned. The green label had a shine to it.

  “Leandra Gold, huh? That’s a fine drink. Leandra is a ways from here too. I wonder how it gets here?”

  She leaned against the barrel, shoving it with her hip. It didn’t budge.

  “Oh. Definitely going to need a hand with this one.”

  She turned back for the stairs and walked up back up into the kitchen. She spun around, took hold of the cellar door and swung it closed. The moment she turned towards the counters, a blinding green light filled the kitchen. Startled, Ayla shouted, hopping backwards. She nearly dropped the eggs, quickly catching them before each ended cracked and spent.

  She was looking at a half snake, half human, swaying side to side. Its lower half was the serpent. The upper half was a woman. She was tanned and her scales were brown. How the scutes and her skin blended was unclear. The naga wore a white shirt and a chef’s cap from which strands of rich brown hair bounced against her neck.

  Ayla waved nervously, “You must be Gabby?”

  “I am. And you?” The naga looked her up and down, invoking the anticipation one might experience before being eaten.

  “I’m Ayla. Fraz just hired me. You aren’t going to bite me, right?”

  Gabby swatted the idea away, “Did Fraz say that? No, dear. He was just being silly. I’ll make you breaksfassst.” A forked tongue flicked between her lips as she pinched her fingers and thumb together.

  The eggs cradled in Ayla’s arms hopped out and bounced on some invisible path.

  Charmed, Ayla opened her mouth to ask, “How,” but bewilderedly watched as Gabby plucked the eggs out of the air and slithered to the stove. She was fast, as Fraz said. Gabby waved her hand, and a pan slipped off the pot rack, landing on the stove top. She flicked her fingers and a fire sparked under the pan. She reached over to a small dish, lifted the lid to reveal a stick of butter. She used her fingers to split off a small piece and tossed it in the pan. After a sizzling moment, she dipped the pan side to side, coating the surface in buttery goodness. Ayla leaned against the back shelf, watching her crack the three eggs over a small orange bowl. Gabby lifted her hand over her shoulder and a whisk dropped from the rack into her hand! She whipped the eggs around a little.

  “This is your first day, then?” asked Gabby, not noticing Ayla’s wide eyes.

  “Yes, yes that’s right. I arrived last night.”

  After whisking, Gabby reached into a small box off seasoning, stealing a pinch and sprinkled the whipped egg as she poured it into the pan. With a wooden spatula that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, she followed the egg around the pan, folding the cooked egg onto it self.

  “Cute dress,” said Gabby, eyes on the eggs.

  “Thank you,” said Ayla as she watched five cherry tomatoes bob up and down, floating over to the pan. “I made it myself. Well, with a little help.”

  In a flash, Gabby slipped across the kitchen, grabbed a plate and slipped back to the oven. She slid the cooked square of egg onto the plate and then added a dash of rosemary as the tomatoes hissed and popped. She rolled the tomatoes out of the pan around the egg, and used the buttery tomato juices as dressing. Finally, she slid the fork underneath the egg and presented Ayla with her breakfast.

  “That was amazing! Thank you,” said Ayla. She sliced off a bit of egg and took a bite. This was the best breakfast she’d had in months! In the last week, the largest feast she enjoyed was half of an overly ripened apple. It had the right amount of rosemary, but she couldn’t place the other seasoning. “What am I tasting here? It’s kind of spicy, but also… calming?”

  “The ssseasoning is from my world,” Gabby said with a proud hiss.

  Ayla had taken another bite, but covered her mouth to not be impolite, “Your world?” She swallowed her food. “That flash earlier?”

  “A portal to my realm, yes. Usually, I get here before Scarlet and Tesss do. They are late sleepers. Very lazy. You like?” she asked, pointing to the plate.

  Ayla nodded enthusiastically. “How did you do that? With your hands?” She’d had seen and used magic before, but not like that. She couldn’t resist another bite. “And where is your world?”

  “Far, far, very far from here.” Gabby dumped a bucket of apples in a small barrel. She twisted the lever on the faucet, filling it with water. “Not even sure it’s the same universsse to be honest. And this?” Gabby waved her hand over a second faucet and barrel, filling it with water. A small cup elevated off the tiled counter and tipped over, pouring soap. Tiny soapy bubbles layered the water. The whisk and pan hovered across the kitchen and splashed into the barrel. “I have a few magical tricks up my sleeves.”

  Different universe? Is that what Fraz meant when he said that the “crowd comes from different places?”

  “Fraz is a big sweetie. He’ll treat you right.”

  “He was kind enough to hire me,” said Ayla. She finished her breakfast, a bit let down she’d had devoured it so quickly.

  Another flick of the wrist from Gabby and Ayla’s dishware tugged out of her grip and splashed in the barrel with the pan and whisk.

  “Oh! Thanks. Do you want any help in here? Tess and I have to change out the Leandra Gold once she arrives, but until then my hands are yours.”

  “How kind,” said Gabby. “Go find me six whole chickens from the cellar.”

  “Can do,” said Ayla. She spun around and leaned over, yanking up the cellar door. Gabby noticed the tears in the side of her dress, her bare feet and bruised legs, but didn’t mention it.

  Ayla walked back down the cellar. The far end was noticeably colder, but it didn’t bother her. It reminded her of home. She found where the meat hung on hooks and shelves were stacked with elk, lamb, beef and chicken. At the foot of the shelf was a series of baskets. She stepped forward, ready to pick one up, when she heard an unusual creak in the fog. She moved her foot around, feeling with her toes.

  “That’s not dirt,” she said kneeling down. She investigated further, palms down, patting around. More wood. Then her fingers ran across what felt like an intricately designed hinge leaf.

  Is there another cellar below this? She twirled around, causing the fog to delicately swirl upward. If there was a handle to door, she couldn’t find it. I’ll have to look another time. Gabby’s waiting on me.

  She picked up a basket and swiped in six whole, already plucked chickens. She carried the basket up the stairs. Gabby met her at the cellar entry, unintentionally frightening Ayla.

  “My apologies, dear,” said Gabby, reaching down for the basket. “I must be the first naga you’ve ever seen?”

  “Sorry! I don’t mean to be rude.” Ayla lifted the basket, careful not to touch Gabby during the hand off. Once Gabby had it, she quickly pulled her hands back. It was an awkward movement that Ayla hoped Gabby wouldn’t notice. Gabby pretended not to, though she stole a glance, noting Ayla’s bruised fingers.

  “You’re fine, dear. Many thanksss,” said Gabby, slithering back to the counter. Ayla gave her a thumbs up and closed the cellar door.

  “Where are you from?” asked Gabby, waving upwards, summoning a few cooking sheets. Quietly, they neatly fell on the counter.

  “North,” said Ayla. “This world and north.”

  Gabby nodded, her tail flicking side to side. “I’ve never left the actual tavern, or the kitchen for that matter,” she said, “but I hear the surrounding world is very dangerousss.”

  “Yes,” Ayla said, recalling the necromancer and his undead puppet. “It gets a little wild out there. We have a lot of problems with the undead.”

  Gabby placed the chickens on the cooking sheets, then swung around, leaning against the counter. “Like I said, Fraz will treat you right.”

  “Hello!” shouted someone outside of the kitchen.

  “That’s Tesss,” hissed Gabby affectionately. Ayla thought the hiss might scare some people away, but it was obvious that Tess was her friend.

  “Gabby!” shouted Tess, peaking into the kitchen. “And the smelly lady?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “I took a bath,” Ayla protested.

  Tess stepped in.

  Ayla was able to get a good look at her this time, unlike last night. She was a little taller than Ayla, but not as tall as Gabby. She was a human, her short black hair hidden under a saggy country cap. Everything she wore looked like a hand-me down from someone three times her size. Tess unbuttoned her oversized jacket, which exhibited multiple patches, some orange with green polkadots, others striped black and white, and two blue with a sparking star pattern - all of which seemingly demonstrated Tess’s progress as seamstress. Underneath, she sported a self made, forest green dress that ended a couple inches above her knees, gloves to match, and white stained flats.

  “You needed it!” said Tess laughing. “Welcome aboard, I guess.”

  “Thanks!” said Ayla, backing against the wall. Tess eyed Scarlet’s old apron, pursing her lips.

  “It is what it is,” she said. “You seem nice though.”

  Gabby side-eyed Tess, “You’re up earlier than usual.”

  Tess rolled her eyes, ignoring the naga.

  “Nice to have a blonde running around here too,” she said, taking off her jacket. “Maybe those guys will start slapping your ass when you prance around with their drinks.”

  “Tess,” said Gabby sternly. “Don’t scare her away now.” Tess hung her jacket up by the kitchen door.

  “I had one guy leave a literal handprint, right here!” Tess swung her butt in Ayla’s direction, grabbing her right cheek, her cap flying off. “It stayed there all night! It was… what’s his name, Gabby?” In one motion, playful but elegant, she swiped her cap off the floor and tossed it on the hook by the door, “The guy from Zarawind? He’s a pirate, I think.”

  Gabby scratched the back of her head, careful not to disturb her chef’s cap “You’re talking about Micah, I think.” She continued to season the chicken.

  “Yes! Micah! He just…” Tess slapped the air as hard as she could. “My butt was so sore the next day. I checked after my bath and I had a big pink hand print right here, on my cheek!” Ayla laughed out loud. Tess was very animated. She had kicked open the cushioned cabinet and pulled out a pair of shoes. She sat down, crossed her pale legs and made the switch. Her motions were whimsical, but precise.

  “Are you finished? Now that it’s out of your sssytem?”

  Ayla couldn’t help smiling. I think I’ll like it here, she thought. Tess went on, pointing out that Gabby didn’t have to deal the crazy ones out there because she was busy cooped up in the kitchen, which Gabby preferred anyway. They started to joke with each other, gentle shoves and giggling ensued.

  Ayla watched them, suddenly realizing that these two had no idea who she was. They don’t know her story, her journey, or what she was running from. She started to feel like an imposter.

  And they can’t know. Under any circumstances.

  “Ayla,” said Tess, tying on her apron.

  Ayla perked up, faking a smile, “Yes?”

  “Let’s get that barrel fixed up so our customers can get plenty drunk tonight!”

  “Sure thing,” said Ayla, clapping her hands.

  Admittedly, it wasn’t as hard as Ayla thought it’d be. With Tess’s help, they managed to raise the massive keg of Leandra Gold up the steps. The stairs were a little more rickety than Ayla preferred– each creak conjuring a mental flash of the keg plummeting over and squashing Ayla underneath– but they rolled it out of the cellar and across the kitchen. Tess taught Ayla how to detach the coupler. She lifted the wooden latch, twisted it and then asked Ayla to roll the new keg in place. Ayla grabbed the barrel and leaned it back, rolling to its designated slot with a full and thunderoues wooden thump. Tess set the coupler in place and twisted until it was good and tight.

  “But not too tight!” said Tess, pointing upward.

  Ayla nodded, “Got it.”

  Tess pressed down on the wooden knob, latching the coupler in pace, and leaned on the barrel, slapping its rounded side. “Super easy.”

  Ayla put her hands on her waist, “Looks that way!” She glanced across the kitchen, catching Gabby watching them with a grin. Gabby winked at Ayla and continued prep. With a simple wave the cabinets above opened and a variety of herbs drifted out, gently landing on a cutting board. There was rosemary, thyme and sage. A few lemons rolled across the countertop and landed against the cutting board.

  “You ladies head on out. I’ve got work to do.”

  Tess reached for Ayla’s hand, but Ayla recoiled, keeping out of reach. Tess raised an eyebrow.

  “Um…” Tess wanted to say something, but Ayla quickly gestured to the door. “Sorry, after you.”

  Was Tess offended, or just perplexed? Ayla wasn’t sure. She turned her attention to Gabby, “Thanks for the breakfast. Let us know if you need anything.”

  “Go, go, go,” sang Gabby. When the two of them exited the kitchen, the door swiftly closed behind them. In any other circumstances, that might have creeped Ayla out, but…

  “Is Gabby really a sorceress?”

  “Hm?” mumbled Tess, claiming a new tablet and fresh pencils from the bar drawer.

  “Fraz called her a kitchen sorceress.”

  “She’s absolutely a sorceress. I don’t think she was always a chef though. Although I can’t say for sure because Gabby doesn’t really open up about her home too much. She’s pretty tight lipped about things.”

  Ayla could relate. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she started, “and you don’t have to answer or anything, but do you live nearby?”

  “Creepy, dank woods. I get why you’d wonder.” Tess hopped up onto the bar counter and crossed her legs. “I live about two minutes that-a-way.” She pointed to the west. “It’s kind of a hidden path, which is good because yeah, the surrounding forest is very, very weird. My walk home is pleasant enough though. Fraz helped me out with the path. He actually laid some stone and set up a few lanterns for me. He’s really nice.”

  “Yeah, Gabby said that too.”

  “Fraz tries to help others out. It’s kind of why Witchwicks works the way it does. Everyone can be here, though you don’t see a lot of elves. Makes sense with the whole, ‘we brought on a plague that nearly wiped out all of life on the planet’ thing.”

  That’s as good of a summary as any, thought Ayla. “I think that’d do it for anyone.”

  “But even they’d be welcomed here. Everyone has their differences, heck, you can even fight it out if you need to! No killing though. It’s not allowed in these walls, not because it’s illegal or whatever, but because you’ll be cursed.”

  “Oh?” said Ayla, crossing her arms. Tess was kicking her feet back and forth.

  “And it’s a fate worse than death. Everyone says that, of course, but really, I’ve seen it happen once. I’d rather die and I’m positive that the dwarf who experienced it would have rather died too. Let’s just say the next night was really quiet. Even the bard couldn’t squeeze out a tune. He just,” she mimicked a depressed bard plucking at an invisible lute, “and it was sad.”

  “Now I’m curious about this curse,” said Ayla, leaning in a little.

  “Nuh-uh, you get to experience it the way I did and that’s with your eyeballs. I shouldn’t even really be talking about it, but just so you know, you can’t kill anyone.”

  She thought about the dagger nestled on the sheets of her bed. “I didn’t really plan on it.”

  “Then you’re good!” Tess looked down and leaped off the counter. In doing so, she saw Ayla’s bare feet.

  “You don’t wear shoes?”

  “Not usually, no.”

  “Huh. You’re a little weird, you know that?”

  They heard a door open on the other side of the tavern. It was the succubus. Ayla had never seen one before. Her skin was pink, almost cerise, from head to toe. Her horns, which weren’t very tall, were just a little darker than the rest of her skin. She had a thin but long tail that bounced opposite of her step as she descended the stairs. She was wearing a long dress, dark purple with golden lace at the bottom. Ayla’s eyes followed the plunging neckline ending to a point a few inches below her belly button, causing her to blush.

  “She’s gorgeous,” said Ayla.

  “Yeah, that’s Cara. She’s our resident sex demon.”

  “A what?”

  “Oh, you really are from this world then, huh? I was wondering. Wasn’t sure if you came from Gabby’s world.”

  Cara approached the bar. “Good morning, Tess. Are you gossiping?”

  Tess looked put out. “What? No! I’m showing our new barmaid the ropes! I’m doing a good job too, by the way.”

  Cara’s gaze landed on Ayla. “Do you have a name?”

  She nodded, “I’m Ayla.” She felt like she was being sized up. “I’ve never seen a succubus before.”

  Cara sat on a barstool and swirled around; arms extended. When she slowed down, she rested her elbow on the counter and her chin on her thumb in stylish fashion.

  “Demons like me aren’t common in your world, so I’m not surprised.”

  Demons like her? Ayla thought. That’s true. “I haven’t seen any demons, but I’ve heard stories. The undead make easy targets for possession, I think. We have a couple of gods though!”

  “Ah, those desperate for a little power,” said Cara, emphasizing the word “desperate.” She looked at Tess, playfully batting her eyelashes,“What’s a pretty thing like me got to do to get a drink around here? Want a peak?” She tugged at her neckline, exposing her smooth breast.

  Tess waved her hand, “No, no, no, I’m good!” She reached below the counter and revealed a whiskey bottle. It was amber colored, labeled Love Finch Finest. Wasn’t it a little early for a drink? As if anyone could really know. In Brangwen Woods, it was night time all the time.

  “My favorite,” said Cara, tapping her fingers.

  “Straight from Heartgaze,” said Tess, setting a shot glass down.

  “Heartgaze?” said Ayla. “That’s even further south than Leandra.”

  Cara skeptically frowned at Ayla, “Yes.”

  Tess filled and placed the shot glass in front of Cara.

  “It’s just that we’re so far north of these places, how does Witchwicks get their spirits?”

  Tess piped up, “Oh, I get it. We don’t cart them in or anything. At least not as far as the tavern itself. Fraz meets our sellers at the edge of the woods and Gabby uses her portal magic. She just drops everything off at on the northeast end of the building, whether it be gin, ales, or whiskeys.”

  Cara raised her glass to that.

  Ayla soaked it all in. The finest drinks in the land, magical portals, and creatures from different worlds? Witchwicks was proving to be a wild beginning for a fresh start in life. Cara downed her shot of whiskey. She made no expression.

  “Any fun stories?” asked Tess. “Any weird clients with goofy kinks? Any attracted to amphibians? I need the juicy details!” Despite her the teasing, Cara kept her trade secrets. She may be a demon, but she had decorum when it came to her business. She’d die with her secrets, to which Tess pointed out that demons virtually live forever.

  “Exactly,” said Cara, flicking her tail as she pivoted towards the tavern main. She walked back up the stairs, waving, and said, “Thanks for the drink, sweetie!”

  “I’ll get something out of her some day,” Tess promised, eyes narrowed with determination. “She has such a great butt.” She turned to Ayla, “Let’s do some training!”

  First thing’s first. The menu! They didn’t offer much, but Ayla knew that she wanted to try every single item. Some of the menu items had notes written next to them.

  Appetizers: freshly baked bread, deviled eggs, brown-toad egg soup, and buttered cabbage. Main dishes: roasted chicken (whole and parts), salted or smoked steak (almost the whole cow, if you have the coin), and smoked elk (locally hunted and dressed). Sides included: stuffed Sparkcap mushrooms (locally handpicked).

  “Oh! We have to go pick more of these,” chimed Tess. “We can do that after we clean upstairs. Gabby will bite our heads off if we don’t restock.”

  I hope she doesn’t mean literally, thought Ayla. She returned to the menu… fried peppers and tomatoes, sautéed blue sprouts (green is available if, you guessed it, you have the coin) traditional green salad layered with citrus, ranch or wine dressings, porridge (small bowls only, you can thank the goblins), spicy cheese wedges, minced potatoes, and fruit salad!

  This all sounds amazing, thought Ayla. Wait, am I drooling?

  There was a list of hot and cold drinks followed by a small selection pies. One could order: coffee, latte, hot coco and hot cider. Ales included Leandra Gold and Black. There was lager offered called Muddy Brute. Hard liquors included Love Finch Finest, Emerald Stormwater, and Starfyre. As for the pies, Witchwicks offered cinnamon apple pie, raspberry pie, and blackberry pie.

  Tess tapped on a list nailed to the wall behind the counter, and said, “This is the usual line up for every night. It’s never not busy. Sure, we might sell more chicken tonight than tomorrow, but the numbers are pretty consistent. Except on the weekends.” She held up two fingers, “Everything times two! As we get closer to open, Fraz will use this list to double check with Gabby to make sure everything is on the right track. She’s usually ahead though. That’s naga magic for you.”

  To the right of the list was the pass-through Ayla saw the night before. Tess unlatched the rollup door, exposing the kitchen. Gabby was hard at work, surrounded by a whirlwind of kitchen utensils, knives butchering the meat, bowls with self-stirring spoons mixing pie sauces, dirty dishes finding there way to the sinks. She dipped down, opened the stove and yanked out one of the shelves. It held three vertical roasting pans, each one featuring chicken like golden-brown, crackling trophies.

  “If you look here,” Tess tapped on the trim outlining the interior of the pass-through, pointing at a small hook. “That’s where you put the orders. Gabby will take it from there. Once Gabby plates the dish,” said Tess, “she’ll set them here in the pass-through. That little golden bell will ring and we come running!” Tess walked towards the front of the counter, reaching down for a shot glass. “How are your reflexes?”

  Ayla looked away from the golden bell in time to see a shot glass in mid air, arcing her direction. She snatched it before it hit her.

  “Sweet! Reflexes are good,” said Tess. “Once that bell rings, plates will come flying out of that pass through. Most of the dishes are hot, so you’ll want to be on top of it.”

  Ayla recalled the night before, ducking under a train of floating plates as she went to her room. She started to imagine herself like the gnomes, rushing back and forth between the tables and the bar, scribbling down orders, chatting with the patrons, serving their food, and so on. Last night’s revelry came to mind. She recalled the bard’s vibrant music, the uncontrolled laughter, the warmth of the blazing fire and deliciously sweet aromas.

  “It’s really hard work,” said Tess, snapping her out of the day dream.

  “No,” said Ayla, “it’s actually kind of perfect.”