Blood Scent: A Junkyard Druid Urban Fantasy Novella (Junkyard Druid Novellas Book 1) by M.D. Massey

Author:M.D. Massey [Massey, M.D.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Modern Digital Publishing
Published: 2017-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

11

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I hopped on my scooter and headed to The Hammer and Anvil. It turned out to be one of those new hipster bars on the east side, located in an area that was quickly becoming a concrete jungle of lofts and condominiums.

Neighborhood joints like this one provided their customers with the illusion they were slumming when they really weren’t. While the place had a sort of kitschy-grunge vibe, it was really just another yuppie bar for millennials who worked for the man but wanted to pretend like they still fought the power. Whenever I heard native Austinites talk about the “old” Austin, I couldn’t help but think that it was places like this that were ruining the city.

The bar was located in an old cinder block gas station with a couple additions off its side and back. The faux-rusted tin roof gave it an almost authentic roadhouse vibe, and the blues tracks blasting from the outdoor speakers in the beer garden weren’t half-bad. While I sat on my scooter scoping the place out, they played a little B.B. King, a few SRV tunes, and even some John Lee Hooker.

Then they fucked it up by mixing in some White Stripes—the blues equivalent of pop punk. What a dick move. I hated the owner already.

But I wasn’t out there to write a review of the place. I scoped it out in the magical spectrum, and yeah, there was some hinky shit going on in there. For one, a lot of the patrons going in and out of the place were definitely not human. I saw some fae, a few ’thropes, and at least one vamp mixed in with the crowd.

That in itself wasn’t weird, since supernatural humanoids had to mingle with humans if they wanted to enjoy the benefits of human society. What was weird was how fast they were coming and going. While the human patrons tended to show up and stick around, the supernatural types didn’t delay. They’d enter and leave within the span of a few minutes.

Also, there was a magical blank spot in the back addition. Everywhere else, I read the usual signs and signals you got with a monster or fae-owned business. There were wards and spells to protect against the usual crap—hexes, hauntings, and the like—but that area of the bar was dead. Not only was there no magic emanating from it; there was nothing coming out of there.

So, that room was either dimensionally displaced, or someone was shielding it with some serious juice.

“Shit,” I said as I stomped out the cigarette I hadn’t been smoking. I didn’t actually care for the habit at all, but it made for a good excuse to loiter outside places while you were scoping them out. Stand around doing nothing and you looked creepy and suspicious; stand around puffing on a cigarette, and you just looked like another nicotine addict.

I dug around inside my Craneskin Bag to make sure I had my silver-etched sword, a gun loaded with silver bullets, and my war club close at hand.

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