He Takes Her Home

Chapter One

Claire was sick of it. She had been working at this job since she was 15, starting with cleaning dishes in the back until her aunt decided it would be simpler to have Claire tend bar than to pay someone else to do it. Now she was 19, and still stuck here, running the shit-show every night, while Avery, her mother's sister, stayed half-drunk and slept with anything with a dick that walked through the door.

Avery had been the village beauty when she was young, and was still attractive, although years of hard drinking and late nights had paid a price. She had dark waving hair, and grey eyes, with all the curves that drew a man's attentions. When Claire's mother had died when Claire was 8, her grandmother and Aunt Avery had taken her in. Claire was the image of her mother, almost the opposite of Avery, with honey colored hair she kept braided tightly around her head, and dark green eyes that flashed when she was angry. She had a petite figure, creamy pale skin from spending all her time working inside, and a sweet mouth with a dimple that appeared on the rare occasions when a real smile warmed her face. Grandmother and Aunt Avery ran the local tavern, The Smuggler's Boot. It had been more of a gathering place before Grandmother had passed away, but when Aunt Avery took over, it went downhill fast. Now only the layabouts and no-goods frequented Smuggler's, coming half for the cheap ale and half for Avery's favors. Grandmother had died two years ago, and Claire had put up with it while she had to, but for the last year she had been slowly secreting away any tips she could scrounge from the wasted idiots at the end of the night. Every coin she could scrape up was now hidden in her jewel box, the only thing she had left of her mother. Mama hadn't left her any jewels, to be sure, but the box had a lock, and the key was safe around Claire's neck. She was done cleaning up Avery's vomit, done avoiding the grabbing hands of the leering loobies who thought she would be as easy to bed as her aunt, done spending every night scrubbing who even knows what off of floor, stools and counters. Claire was leaving. Her plan was to wait until Avery had passed out, take every bit of the till for the night and add it to her box, and make her way out of town and down the high road as fast as she could.

"Claire!" Avery screeched from the corner where she was sitting on the lap of one of the regular customers. "Claire! Drinks on the house for everyone! Leo just said he's going to marry me!" She and the men around her laughed uproariously. Leo had been saying that same line every night for years. He knew Avery loved the flattery, and she would always send a round of drinks out to please him. Claire sighed and filled mugs, passing them around the tavern and nimbly skipping the pinches of the grinning men as she went through the room. When she was finally back behind the bar, she relaxed. "This is the last time," she said to herself, "no more."

She smiled grimly, and finished out the night with a lighter step.

The candles had burned to the ends by the time Avery teetered up the stairs and collapsed in her room. Claire blew out the last flickering lights, and stole past her aunt's snoring figure to collect her few belongings. She stuffed her jewel box, her one change of dress, a thin blanket, and her wooden comb into a pillowcase, then wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and slipped back down the stairs. She walked across the floor and stopped with her hand on the door. She thought about turning around for a last look at The Smuggler's Boot, but instead, she closed her eyes, and imagined how the tavern had looked when Grandmother was alive. The fire alight, neighbors and friends joking and drinking, laughter and song pouring from the windows. "Goodbye." Claire whispered, and pushed the door open. She stepped away without another thought, walking quickly down the dark quiet street, through the sleeping village, and past the last of the houses on to the high road. Her heart beat fast in her chest. She was a bit afraid, but at the same time excited to see what adventure awaited her. She knew it might be hard, but she was going to find somewhere she could make something for herself. She didn't care what she had to do, as long as she decided her fate.

Claire traveled for several hours, until the sunrise began to creep over the horizon and she began to feel the miles she had walked wearing on her legs. She kept an eye around her in the growing light, and soon picked out a stand of trees a bit off to the side that seemed protected. She looked down both sides of the road, making sure no one would see her move into her safe spot. Claire spread her blanket out behind several of the trees, hoping this would be a quiet part of the road for her to rest awhile. She laid her head on her pack, wrapped her shawl tightly around herself, and listened to the beginning sounds of the birds waking in the branches around her. She slept.

She didn't know how long she had been asleep when she was awakened to the feel of a rough hand around her chin.

"Well…" said a thin, slimy voice, "what a pretty little treasure we've come upon this morning, eh lads?"