Spiget slammed the door on her way out of the holder’s house, nearly knocking over his wife as she went. The pretty redhead blinked and clung to the packages she’d been balancing.
“Stuff it Lively!” Spiget snapped before she could hear a friendly greeting and burst into the street outside. Icy winds threw her hair and plastic yellow coat back. The normally muddy roads were solidly frozen, packed down by the many feet that wound their way through the holding’s wide streets. Spiget’s boots crunched over the iced dirt as she stalked away from the house.
Further from the holding’s busy core and without its bustling crowds, she could really feel the hurt rolling in her belly. Spiget shivered finally, some of her heat lost in the cold afternoon. She allowed herself one shaking breath, hugged herself, and kept walking.
A teetering building at the edge of town marked the narrow way towards Concord’s hallowed glens and her home. She stared . A dozen clunky bikes, with exhaust pipes and thick tires caked with filth, waited parked outside the club’s low entrance.
Spiget took the steps down to the scratched door almost timidly. Those who sought succor within the holding generally came to Concord’s holy waters, or the potent but questionable offerings here, at Eden. Spiget’s reservations melted a little despite herself when she opened the door and thick, warm air rolled over her with sweet addicting smoke and the scents of cooking meat.
The inside was characteristically dark, but Spiget could have found Blues and her gang in the pitch black of solstice night. Their shouts, hollering, and bawdy singing beckoned her to the corner room. Men and women lolled over the decaying furniture, drinking from amber bottles and smoking little twists of herb.. In the center of it, draped over a card game, a yellow-maned woman in a red bikini top and tattered pants wheezed with laughter between gulps from a dirty bottle. Blues, the Chopper
Spiget approached slowly, stepping over a few bikers in the way of the door and to the edge of the card table. The Chopper looked up and squinted through the dark. “What do you want water witch?”
“Hi Blues.” Spiget shrugged off her slick yellow coat. It was stifling with so many bodies warming the already cooking air. “I need to talk to you. Calistoga got hauled off, taken. I need someone to go after him.”
“Oh. Yah, sounds like it.” Blues chewed the taste of her last swallow of rum.
“And I thought, since you two– you know, it sounded like your kinda gig.” Spiget tried a cheerful smile, but her lip trembled. “What do you say?”
“That the roads are ice, its winter, this placed is stocked with more shine than even I could drink, and while Calistoga had some pretty scars and a nice ass, this all sounds like holder problems. Go ask Allison, you two used to shack up, maybe put out and he’ll do something about Calistoga.” Blues took another long drink from her bottle.
“Allisons not– he’s not going to help. I need your help.” Spiget pressed and her rising voice got more of the gang to look up annoyed.
“Well that stormin sucks, cause I don’t need yours. Fuck off.” Blues grinned at her, filed canines sharp in the dark. A few around them chuckled.
“You have to help me– I control Concord, its pools, its waters and you and yours have a habit of get awfully scratched up–” Spiget took a step closer, feeling herself begin to shake.
The room went silent.
Blues was off from the table and nose to nose with Spiget in a blink. “Are you fucking threatening me witch?” Blues purred with boozy breath.
Spiget realized she had only a moment before this went very badly. Spiget opened her mouth, took a deep breath, and then utterly burst into tears. Blues leaned back, blinking. Around them the rest of the gang stared, looked away, and then stared again as Spiget dissolved into wracking sobs and clutched at Blues, mumbling and dribbling over their leader.
“Holy– storms –” Blues tried to extricate herself, but Spiget held on, wailing. A few of Blues’ gang were beginning to laugh and though Blues glared at them, Spiget kept on with the tears and stumbling grabs.
Blues swore at her, “Stop –stop or I’ll– FINE! Fine.” Blues hopped backwards and held up a hand, warding Spiget away. “Find me something or someone to get me over those iced roads and deal, I’ll check on Calistoga. But you better leave right the fuck now.”
Spiget sniffed, then smiled, “deal.” She ducked out of the room before Blues could say anything more and hurried back to the front door. Spiget left Eden with a blooming smile, and flicked the last tear from her cheek as she stepped into the cold wind.