"This is it?" he asked as he closed the door. The smell of cigars and sweat was heavy in the air.
Trombone was slowly playing a low tune at the podium. The people were oblivious to the sad sound as they nursed the drinks of their choice or talked with their companions. Bartender was behind the bar amusing guests, handing out drinks or making sure everyone had his ear as he moved left to right.
The woman's low voice was barely heard as she quietly said, "Yes." She avoided to look the old man in the eyes. Out of respect and fear.
Samael dug into his pocket and took out one single gold coin. The woman's eyes went wide as she opened the palm of her hand. Shakily waiting for the precious item to be lowered down. Slowly she followed the gold land softly into her waiting palm where she hungrily snatched it away. Without any further thought she was out the door. Running to feed her loved ones.
Samael scanned the dark and dingy tavern. Everyone was deeply invested with the drinks of their own choice, only the barkeep was aware of the arrival of his new patron. A quick glance and the seasoned barkeep already knew who he was dealing with. If the man decided to engage him in conversation, years of experience would tell him if this was an off-worlder. As they treated those, hungry for adventure, differently.
Taking several steps, he kept quietly conversing with his customers, handling their drinks, replenishing those that wanted one more shot to forget their misery.
He watched as the old man limped his way towards the stool that sat on the opposite end of the bar. The man obviously wanted privacy. He took a clean rag, slung it over his shoulder and walked towards the hooded man.
"What will it be?" the man asked with his rough voice.
Samael looked him in the eye and said, "One beer."
As he reached for a clean glass he asked, "Traveling through?"
Several empty bottles that were in the way were quickly moved, and one full bottle found itself tightly grasped between the barkeep's steady hands. Like he did all morning, he deftly removed the cap and slowly poured the brew into the waiting glass container.
"You might say so." Samael said, watching, mesmerized the deft hands work their magic on the pint that started pouring into his glass.
With an odd smile he received the offered pint of beer and started slowly sipping the foam of the top, the fumes slowly making their way to his nose, "Delicious. Just what the body needs."
"Tough day?" The bartender asked and smiled.
"You might say so." Samael repeated, with his gloved hand he pushed a coin towards the barkeep.
The barkeep chuckled, "Man of few words. Just as I like them. Quiet, sipping their beer and paying on time. You hear that Kent. Pay the fuck up."
"Fuck off, wanker," a voice shouted somewhere in the bar.
"Damn lousy drunk. You have until next week or I'll get the boys involved." The man shook his finger.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the voice burped, "You always say that. I pay. Next month it's all over again."
Barkeep shook his head, leaning in he started quietly talking with Samael, "He's right you know."
Ignoring their bickering Samael finally spoke, "Listen," Samael attracted the attention of the enraged bartender, "I'm looking for Aliana."
Whatever noises were in the bar stopped, everyone seemed to focus their attention on Samael.
"Now, what do you want to meet her dear sir. We had so much fun talking, drinking and -- well -- having fun." The bartender was suddenly paying more attention to Samael than the ruffling noises in front of the bar.
"Like I said I want to meet her." Samael explained, "As to reason;
why do I want to meet her
, well, that does not matter. I just do."
The man sneered taking out a knife from behind his back, "I think not. Sir, I must ask of you to die."
Everyone moved as one, chairs dragging, clothes ruffling, the bartender leading the attack, charging Samael with his sharp blade.
But before he could thrust his long blade into Samael's chest, the man found himself lying on the floor. Watching the dirty ceiling. The cobwebs were starting to accumulate on the beams and the corners of the wall.
"Pathetic," Samael whispered, the bartender could hear the creaking of the floorboards. "I must say I didn't expect this many people working for you."
He watched the celling as he listened to the patrons, some of them his long, close friends, screaming in abject horror and pain. The cobwebs moving silently in the draft. Left to right; up and down. The tiny spider that started to weave a new one oblivious to the murdering screams that started filling the room. Terror and abject desperation replaced whatever harmony remained.
One by one every patron of the bar underwent the torment of being cut by Samael's sharp blade. He never asked any questions, just seemed to revel in their torment as they screamed their last breath. Watching their eyes as they started to feel the blade scrape out their flesh, the blood seeping through the open wound and splashing their clothes. One started to gargle some incoherent words before he passed out from shock and pain.
He finally approached the bartender. Stepping over the piss that was slowly spreading beneath the immobile man. He then knelt near his head. Bloody blade in his hand. His eyes met Samael's.
Bartender knew death when he saw it.
Watching the man's face left no question that the noises he heard were real. His friends were gone. The man above him looked like he had lost everything and he wasn't planning of getting it back. The eyes of a man that even gods abandoned.
