I sat there for a long while, listening to the wind rustling through the trees outside. Why did she have to do that? Tug on my heartstrings like that. I was out of the business. Not going back in. But damn it, her uncle had been mixed up in something nasty, and if there was a demon involved, it wouldn’t end with him.
The night dragged on, the bar slowly emptied. Murph locked the door, slid another drink my way. “What’s the deal, Jack?”
I took a sip, sighed, and laid out the whole mess about my run-in with Death and our little arrangement.
Murph arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t peg you as the deal-with-the-devil type. Got yourself Devil Kissed now?”
I went behind the bar and fixed Murphy a whiskey neat.
“Not the devil, Murph. Death. But yeah, usually not my style. When it’s that or oblivion, reincarnation, or whatever fresh hell waits around the corner, you play the smart hand.”
Murph chuckled, shaking his head. “You sound like a character from one of those old dime novels.” He rummaged through the bottles, found something, and poured me another shot, eyeing me like I was a puzzle. I downed it without any fanfare. He frowned, diving back for something stronger.
There was a pause. “The largest part of me is pretty sure it’s all in my head. Just one too many screws loose after all these years.”
Murphy’s gaze settled on me, bright and unyielding. For a moment, I wondered how old he really was. His face suggested a comfortable forties, but his eyes—they told a different story, one weighed down by decades, maybe more. Enough tech or aether, and appearances were often little more than convenient little lies. I should know. I’d looked a good ten years younger than my age—before the zombification.
“Jack,” Murphy said, his voice low but firm. “I’ve learned not to be too skeptical of the weird. You’re not the first to see an Eternal while teetering on the edge.“ He slid another drink my way, which I downed with a shrug. He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, before pressing on.
“They show up sometimes. Some folks claim they’re the ones pulling the strings behind the curtain, some for of ancient beings. Others think it might be some soft of tech induced hallucination.” He leaned in then, getting quiet. “Maybe even some old AI still haunting the cracks in the Grid. Whatever they are, don’t dismiss it too quickly. You, of all people, should know better than most that the craziest explanation is often the right one. Especially since the War.”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
His words lingered in the air like cigarette smoke. I studied him, but his eyes had already drifted elsewhere. That far-off look. He never talked about the War. None of us did. But how the hell did he know about the Eternals?
“I suppose I’ve seen enough crazy to keep an open mind. But things are getting… weird. When Death—or whatever he is—starts cutting deals, you know it’s bad. He’s spooked about the other Eternals.”
I paused, weighing whether to say more, but Murphy nodded as if he already understood, so I continued.
“Something’s brewing, Murph. Something big. Rifts are opening up more and more. You’ve noticed, haven’t you? Rift mining could be part of it, sure—but we’ve been chasing that theory for years.”
Murphy slid me another drink, this one releasing a soft, curling smoke. I drained it in one pull, the vapor trailing from my lips as I spoke. He searched my eyes, probing for any flicker of reaction. The taste remained absent, a hollow nothingness.
“Rifts have been steady since Edison, but now they’re getting bigger and more frequent. What do you make of it?” I asked.
Murph leaned back, thinking. “Heard a lot of chatter from folks passing through. It’s not just here. Even places that don’t touch the stuff or mine in the rift. Middle of nowhere spots. Same weirdness.”
He vanished into the back. I heard a loud crack and the slosh of liquid. He returned with a can of coffee and an old surge battery. When he came back, the liquid was bubbling. I took a swig and felt like I’d been plugged into a power line. A zing shot through me. The coffee’s rich, like a punch in the face. “Damn, Murph, I feel like I just got hit by a rift surge.” I took another swig.
“Technically, you have.” He held up the battery, now cracked and empty. He smiled with satisfaction. “Never has there been a customer I couldn’t find a drink for.”
“You’re going to have to tell me how you know so much, one of these days.”
He smiled, a sly glint in his eyes. “And lose my air of sophistication? I don’t think so.” For a moment, he looked younger, like a man who’d seen too much but still held on to a carefree heart.
I nodded, the surge still humming through my veins. “Keep your ears open, Murph. If Death is making deals, there’s something big brewing. I despise being left in the dark.”
His expression shifted, eyes darkening in a flash as he nodded.
I helped Murphy clean up the bar, trying to push Aylin out of my mind. It was a long night, and sleep didn’t come easy. When I finally drifted, I was haunted by her big doe eyes.
Damn dames.