You stand in front of an old brick building that has been squashed between a pawnshop and a gardening store. You think it could charitably be called a bar of some sort. Despite its appearance, the place seems to be doing good business, and through the open windows you can hear lively chatter and yelling.

You push open the door, and your nose is immediately filled with the smell of cinnamon. The place is lit by a combination of bare bulbs, ornate lamps, and Christmas lights all hanging at different heights, as if whoever decorated simply grabbed whatever light sources they could find and haphazardly wired them together with no regard for electrical safety.

Across the room, the bartender glares at you, before going back to wiping down the bar. You could swear you have seen her somewhere before.

This is Nimue's Bar.

Kaia notices the newcomer immediately. Over the six years she's worked here, she's gotten good at picking out the different types of people who come inside. There are the shifters, most of whom come in angry and looking to blow off some steam, but inevitably leave disappointed. There are the Bleeders, who usually just want to be left in peace, and will congregate in small groups to hold whispered discussions in the corners of the room. Then there is everyone else, a diverse group from all walks of life, from the tough-looking woman in the smilie-face beanie to the man with no skin. Some of them talk to her, while others just want to be left alone. The one constant is that everyone walks in with a certain amount of confidence. Practically no one comes to Nimue's unless they want to be there, and absolutely no one walks in on accident.

This man, Kaia thinks, just might break that trend.

He is dressed in slacks and a polo shirt, and his shoes are shiny and black. His hair is tucked behind his ears in a neat combover, and his face is free of any acne or blemishes. Kaia finds herself brushing back her hair without really thinking about it. The first thing the man does when he walks in is to take a long look around. His eyes linger on the walls, which are jet black, and spray-painted with neon eyes of all shapes and sizes. He also spends a few seconds staring openly at the piano in the corner, with its ornate clawed feet and missing lid.

He looks nervous. Very nervous.

“Hello there!” Kaia calls. “Can I help you with anything?”

The man notices her and hurries over to the bar. Kaia sniffs; she can smell his aftershave from several feet away. It's not subtle, but not entirely unpleasant. “Hi, yes, I'm sorry, but I was heading to my friend's apartment, and I think I took a wrong turn somewhere, and I don't recognize anything, and I—“

Kaia holds up her hands and shushes him. “Slow down there. Take a seat.” She reaches over and smacks the old tomcat on the end of the bar. “Dirk, wake up! This guy's lost, go and grab a map for him.” The cat gives her a morose look before hopping off the bar and trotting through the back door. “Sorry about that,” Kaia says, shrugging helplessly and giving the man her most winning smile. “What an asshole, am I right?”

The man looks utterly bewildered. “The cat?”

“Ooh, don't let him hear you call him that,” Kaia says. “Can I get you something while we're waiting?”

The man opens his mouth as if to protest, but after a moment he nods. “Sure. Anything.”

Kaia takes her time mixing the drink. Even though she wants to ask him what he's doing here, she knows she has to hold her tongue. A minute later, her patience is rewarded.

“I'm sorry,” the man says, putting his head in his hands. “I've just been wandering around for hours. I've lived in this city my whole life, but I don't recognize anything around here.”

“Is that right,” Kaia says softly, passing him the drink. She examines him closely as he sips it. He's a little too normal looking to be a shifter, and not pompous enough to be a mage. Could he be a some sort of spirit? She supposes it's possible. “What's your name?”

“Chris,” he says miserably. “It's Chris. Will your, uh, friend be back with the map soon?”

She ignores his question. “Chris, I want you to take a good long look around this bar and tell me what you see. Don't make eye contact with anyone, just look.”

Chris surreptitiously stares around the bar, tapping his foot against the ground in an irregular rhythm that makes Kaia grit her teeth in irritation. After several sweeps, he leans toward her, eyes wide. “That man over there. He has horns. They're huge!”

Kaia nods. “Yeah, that's Ernie. He never shuts up about them.”

“And those people, they have fangs!”

“Keep your voice down,” Kaia hisses. “And those are Bleeders. Don't mess with them. No, stop that, don't look at them either. Just pretend they aren't there, it's what I usually do.”

“That woman's eyes are yellow, and she has scales on her neck!”

“Yes, she's quite nice. Just had her first kid a month ago. I haven't seen it yet but personally, I hope it looks more like her than her husband.”

Chris has a panicky look on his face. “Would you mind telling me exactly what's going on here?”

Kaia pinches the bridge of her nose. She is probably the worst person to be giving this explanation. Nimue would be so much better at this, and Dirk would be even better. Those two have lived here their entire lives, while she has only been here a matter of years. “Listen. You're in the Grotto.”

“The what?”

“The Grotto. It's the part of the city where those who are... extranormal tend to congregate. Vampires. Werewolves. Spirits. You name it, it probably lives here somewhere. The combined presence of so many supernatural beings makes the area impervious to regular people, normally. You must have wandered in here by mistake, although I can't imagine how.”

Chris looks as if he is going to faint. “That's completely impossible. I have to be dreaming.”

Kaia shrugs and starts polishing the counter, more for something to do than because it is at all dirty. “It's not my business if you believe it or not. As soon as Dirk gets back with a map, walk on out of here and pretend it was all your imagination.”

“No, you don't understand!” Kaia looks up sharply, and is alarmed to see excitement in Chris's eyes. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. “This is incredible! I can't believe this is really happening!” He gets halfway off of his stool, as if to go strike up a conversation with one of the patrons, and Kaia reaches over the bar and yanks him back down into his seat by the collar of his shirt.

“Listen,” she hisses in his ear. “There's a reason this part of town is called the Grotto. This is not a nice place. At least not any more. Frankly, you're lucky you walked in here and not someplace else. Nimue and I do our best to keep her clientele safe.” Kaia releases his shirt, watching him carefully for any signs of movement. Damn, she wished Dirk would hurry up with that map.

“You seem normal enough,” Chris says carefully. Kaia has to fight back the urge to slap him for saying that, but the same time, she is conscious to what she must look like to him. Black hair, dark eye shadow, a half-dozen piercings in her eyebrow and ears, black clothing. A little odd, maybe, but probably the most human-looking person here. It's a painful reminder of what she actually is.

“Looks can be deceiving,” she says flatly. Behind Chris, the door creaks open, and Nimue enters to a chorus of cheers. Kaia sighs with relief, and grabs her jacket. Nimue walks up to the bar and leans next to Chris, arching an eyebrow at Kaia.

“Who's this, K, your boyfriend?” Nimue says, and Kaia punches her in the shoulder as they trade places.

“As if. He's a mortal who wandered here by mistake. Dirk's grabbing him a map.” A few of the patrons nod at her as she makes her way out of the bar, but most just pointedly ignore her, the same as usual. She walks outside and stuffs her hands in her pockets, hunching her shoulders against the chill night air and replaying what Chris said in her head. She seems normal. Of course she does, to him.

“Excuse me? Ma'am?”

It takes Kaia a few moments to realize that she is the one being referred to. “What?” she spits, whirling around.

Chris takes a few steps back in surprise. He has a small piece of paper clutched in his hands; Dirk must have finally found him a map. Kaia waits for him to say something. “I just wanted to thank you, for helping me out. I don't even know your name, or what you are.”

Kaia considers him for a moment, his goofy polo shirt blowing in the wind and hair slightly disheveled. She wonders if he notices that despite the orange of the street lights all around them, she casts no shadow. If any extranormal had asked her what she was, she would have turned on her heel and left, but he didn't know any better, did he? It's not as if she should expect him to be aware of the etiquette here. She could refuse to tell him, but what would the point be? He would forget her face in an hour, and her name in two, just like everyone else. “First of all, I'm a shade. Second, people call me K.”

“K,” Chris says, smiling slightly. “I'll remember that.”