It was a busy day in Lightwood’s most popular local bar. Rain thundered outside the windows, lightning flashing and winds howling, but inside it was warm, where the bar was packed to the gills. Round lanterns draped from the ceiling, casting low light. Behind the carved oaken bar, human bartenders worked busily, mixing drinks and serving customers.

The continuous patter of the storm was interrupted by a creak of the door. In walked four hooded figures, drying their soaked boots on the rug. Their cloaks rustled in the breeze created by the large, wheezing ventilator fans, meant to help evaporate water. One of the figures stopped in place, delighting in shaking their boots in front of them, before more disgruntled patrons yelled at them to quit blocking the door, and so reluctantly they shuffled after the other three.

Jemi took the lead. Strolling up to the bar, she slid onto the stool like she had been waiting for this all week. The other three of her companions strayed behind.

“Um, Jemi,” Ying asked, “why did you ask us to come here again?”

“Shh,” the gold-haired woman put a finger to her lips. She drummed her fingers on the countertop. Soon, a bartender came over.

“What would you like, miss?”

Jemi responded with, “I’m not buying any drinks.”

The bartender frowned. “Well, sorry miss, but the bar is only for drinking patrons. You can have a seat in one of the booths if you’re not having a drink.”

“Oh, I am having a drink,” Jemi said sweetly. “I’m just not paying for it.”

The bartender stared back at her. Then, realising what she meant, he sighed. “You’re a pretty thing, lass, but I’m not buying you any drinks tonight. Anyway, you should be able to find someone else easily.”

“Why,” Jemi cupped her chin in her hand, “is it because the last girl you bought a drink for rejected you?”

The bartender’s expression froze. “...How did you know that?” he asked slowly.

Jemi gave a mystical smile. She pointed behind them. “See that group over there? The one that’s playing sparrow tiles?”

In the back, past the gaggle of drunken singers and huddles of chatting patrons, there were four men sitting around a table. Each had a row of bone-carved tiles arranged in front of them, standing such that no one player could see another’s. A circle of onlookers had gathered around them to watch them as they threw out tiles from their respective rows into the centre, making loud clacking noises. The round was progressing fast and intense, every player’s eyes narrowed in deep concentration. Even the buzzing flies droning around their heads could not distract them.

After a while, Jemi said, “The man in the blue jacket, sitting at the east position. He’s going to win.”

Moments later, the man indeed, slammed down his row with a triumphant roar, revealing the patterns etched across them. Beaming from ear to ear, he began to collect his payout from the pot, while the other three steamed in rage.

The bartender’s jaw dropped. “Are you psychic?”

“Oh,” Jemi waved her hand, all casual, “little birds just tell me things.” Next to them, a housefly that had been crawling on the stool next to them took flight.

“What drink do you want?”

The gold-haired woman grinned. “Apple cider, please.”

Behind her, three pairs of eyes rolled. Her question answered, Ying slapped her forehead, grumbling. Jemi ignored them, receiving the bartender’s handle of cider with a brilliant grin.

The bartender started to needle Jemi with questions. About his gambling luck, whether his boss would agree if he asked for a pay raise now, if his wife was having an affair. Jemi gave him answers in exchange for more cider. Only her three Beast companions knew that she was lying through her teeth: there was no way she could have known any of that. After all, Jemi wasn’t psychic, nor a fortune teller. She was simply… shall we say… a good listener.

Jemi didn’t care, though, as long as she was getting free booze. She was really going at it; downing handle after handle.

“I know that’s not gonna kill her, but it can’t be good for her,” Ying muttered. “Do you think we should stop her?”

“To be fair, she’s had a long week,” Lochlan shrugged.

“Can we ask her to get us drinks, too?” Asha said.

Ying glared at her. “Can you please back me up here?”

“Mehh. You can buy my loyalty only with dumplings.”

“Great to know our years of friendship mean nothing to you.”

“And who was it who wanted me to walk to Kanch?”

“I didn’t make you walk it, did I?”

“What’s the winning ticket for the lottery tomorrow?” the bartender was asking. He was drunk himself, and totally ignoring every other customer to talk to Jemi.

“Just go buy it. You’ll win,” Jemi waved her hand blithely.

“Holy Prometheus, really?” The bartender gasped. “Let me buy you more drinks.” He shambled to the back while a group of patrons tried vainly to get his attention.

“We should stop her,” Ying said again.

“Nah. It’s fun to watch. I’m not even hungry anymore.”

At that, Jemi paused in her slurping, looking up from from casks of frothing cider.

“How about you get that booth over there some lunch?” she pointed to them.

“Right on! I'll make sure they feast like kings and queens!” the bartender waved a waiter over.

One hour later, they had all eaten. Asha had her fill of dumplings. And Jemi was still drinking. The woman had drunk from Medusa's moon and survived; alcohol poisoning was far from a concern for her. But still…

“I’m… concerned for her,” even Asha admitted.

“Did she really drag us here just to get shit-faced?” Lochlan said.

“Well, usually she comes into bars to gather intel,” Ying said.

Indeed, there were many people huddled around the bar with whiskeys and cognacs in their. All of town was bound to be in these four walls, taking shelter from the storm. With the people came the liquor, and with the liquor came the rumours. Going in taverns was a well-known and reliable source of authentic intel… although currently, Jemi didn’t really look as interested in gathering information at the moment as she was in smelling like fermented apples.

But, just then, the red-cheeked Jemi smacked something on the counter between her and the bartender.

“Do you know this angel?” she jabbed her finger at the parchment.

It was a scroll, harbouring a stunningly accurate illustration of Ennanis Zoleil. It was fully painted in colour too, the rich copper sculpt of her muscle, the vivid rose-pink of her long hair, white feathers painted in fine brushstrokes.

The bartender burped. Wiping whiskey from his lips, he leaned over and whistled. “Wow. She’s a looker.”

“That’s not the question.”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out. Prometheus, it’s not like she's your husband or something…” the bartender looked genuinely scared when he saw her expression. He scratched his chin, peering closer. “Can’t say I’ve seen her around. Why not you ask the angels?”

Mixed in with the patrons of the bar were, of course, angels. They too had ducked inside from their patrols to avoid the rain. They kept their wings folded against their backs in the crowded space to be polite, but angels could never not be conspicuous.

“God, you're useless,” Jemi murmured, snatching back her scroll and stuffing it up her sleeve.

“What’d you say?”

Jemi eyed his bar tab. “Hope you win the lottery tomorrow, bucko. See you never.” She slid off the stool.

“Wait a minute, you said I was gonna win-?” the bartender hiccuped.

Just then, the front doors slammed open. “Kevin! Want to explain why I have twelve customer complaints in my mailbox?” an enraged yell echoed over the sound of thunderstorm.

Jemi cocked her head. “Maybe you should deal with that.” She then strutted off, leaving the hapless bartender to his boss’ whims.

“Look who decided to show up,” Ying remarked dryly as Jemi Garen slipped into the booth next to Lochlan, who shrunk into the corner to make space for her. Jemi, however, did not sit.

The gold-haired woman raised her brow. “What? You thought I brought us here just to drink?”

Ying gave her a flat stare.

Jemi rolled her eyes. “Fine, I did.” She picked up a napkin from the table, dabbing her cider-stained chin. She tossed it onto Asha’s empty plate. “But now, we’re going to do work. Ying, come with me. We’re going to eavesdrop on the angels.”