My challenge for this one was to write a story related to a tavern. Hmmm…
After a bit of thought, I decided to move the pane of ancient Irish glass containing Red, an ensorcelled faery, from the bed & breakfast where it resides in RED’S MAGICK to a pub. I must say, I enjoyed visiting with Red again!
Evan Flynn leaned against the old-world mahogany bar and surveyed his domain. Flynn’s Irish Bar was his dream-come-true. He’d designed every detail, from the painting of horses and hounds behind the bar to the softly glowing lamps on the scattered tables, but finding that bar in an abandoned restaurant scheduled for destruction…well, that had been sheer luck.
He ran a hand over the smooth wood, lovingly restored by his older brother, Ben, rested a hiking-booted foot on the polished brass foot rail, and breathed in the scent of lemon oil and beeswax. The bar was his talisman. His good luck piece. He was Irish enough to believe in such things, as did the rest of his family. Grannie Flynn certainly had. She’d always insisted that Evan had inherited the family gift, that he had the sight, like his grandfather before him.
Evan shook his head and glanced over his shoulder to his grandparents’ talisman, the pane of ancient Irish glass that had been the founding of his family. Without its intervention, his grandparents would never have met. It, or rather its inhabitant, had been the magic that had made their little bed and breakfast the destination of choice for couples seeking a romantic get-away in Colorado’s Mile High City.
For nearly sixty-five years the family business had flourished in Denver, first with Evan’s grandparents and then his parents. Unfortunately, neither Evan nor Ben had been interested in continuing the tradition. Both young men had chosen the Pacific Northwest for their homes. Ben had settled in Seattle, but Evan had fallen in love with Portland.
After a long and successful run, Evan’s parents had retired to Estes Park, Colorado, leaving the home that had housed the bed and breakfast unoccupied. But last year, when the city condemned the entire block where the house stood, Evan had returned to Denver long enough to rescue the pane of glass before a wrecking ball could shatter it.
He didn’t have a clue what would happen to the inhabitant if the glass broke, but he wasn’t interested in finding out. Red, as the inhabitant was known, was family. Grannie Flynn had always claimed that the fact that Evan could sense Red’s presence, could sometimes even see him floating in the glass, was proof of Evan’s gift.
Evan wasn’t convinced he had the sight, but he did believe in Red’s existence; he’d always felt Red’s presence, right down to his very soul. The being in the glass might be insubstantial, and mischievous beyond belief, but as far as Evan was concerned he was also a Flynn, and no one would harm him while Evan lived.
Giving the mahogany bar a final pat, Evan straightened and headed for his office. Time to buckle down and get the monthly accounting done. As always, he paused beside Red’s glass and placed the palm of his hand in the center of the two-foot square framed pane. His staff thought it odd that he’d framed a piece of blank glass and hung it beside his office door, but he didn’t care. He liked having Red nearby, knowing that the little guy was keeping watch over the pub. A ghostly figure swam into view, somersaulted, and approached the surface. A slim, long-fingered hand stretched to meet Evan’s and a pointed-eared head nodded in acknowledgement.
“Glad to see you too, Red,” Evan murmured before opening the door and stepping into his office.
