Pippa burst through the portal, swallowed by a whirl of color as the world spun around her like an unsteady top in the hands of a careless child. She skidded to a halt in the middle of a polished wooden floor, and after her eyes caught up with her brain, she realized this wasn’t the underworld anymore. Something had gone wrong in her glyph experiment, leaving her sitting in a suspicious little tavern.

  “Shit…”

  “Welcome to the last place you’ll ever see…” A creepy innkeeper greeted her from behind the bar.

  “What-the-what?”

  The innkeeper chuckled while cleaning a glass, and Pippa narrowed her eyes. “It was only in jest,” he said. “I hope your trip wasn’t too disorienting. It’s not very often that a visitor uses their own door, but I suppose it’s less about how you got here than the fact that you’re here now.”

  Pippa hopped to her feet and patted her tunic clean while glancing to the twelve doors on the far wall. She didn’t have time for any of this nonsense, and to be fair, it didn’t matter what this place was. Her family needed her back in the underworld. They were relying on her to figure out this magical portal nonsense.

  “Drink before you go?” The innkeeper said.

  “I’m busy, and besides…I doubt you’d have my kind of drink anyway.”

  Pippa smirked and raised her arm to activate the glyph tattoo that launched her into this dumb place. One of a hundred tattoos painted on her skin glowed a bright green, and she twisted her wrist with a quick snap. As expected, a portal opened.

  “Later, loser!”

  She bolted through the portal and tumbled back into the center of the tavern. Her eyebrows shot up as the innkeeper gave her a conciliatory smile. “The drink is still on offer.”

  Pippa would rather die than give up.

  She blasted through portals all evening, ignoring the strange visitors that seemed to make an endless procession through the queer little tavern. To her pleasant surprise, the barkeep left her to her own devices. With enough time, Pippa would find a way back to help her family—that much she was confident of.

  The next day, she was sitting in the middle of the floor with her shoulders slumped when her belly growled for the whole inn to hear. She turned a deadly gaze on the barkeep, daring him to say a word, but he stayed silent. He continued to clean his annoying glass like usual. It was the same damn glass too, and no one ever used it, the squeak of rag against the clean surface was driving her insane.

  Pippa wobbled to her feet and managed to plop on the stool in front of the bar before snatching the glass from his hands. She forced a grin, her anger barely concealed. “Okay, barkeep. I’ll play your little game, but I don’t have any money. I can cook. How about I do that for a drink?”

  “You could just tell me a story for a—”

  “I get it…I get it…” She waved the glass dismissively. “You’re a magical weirdo that feeds on stories or whatever. Well, I’m also a practical kind of person and would rather work to earn my keep if it’s all the same to you. How about we compromise?”

  “I’m not the only one who feeds off something…unique.”

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  Pippa slammed the glass down and narrowed her eyes. “Where’s the kitchen, hotshot?”

  The barkeep reached under the bar and set a large green bottle on the counter. Pippa met his knowing eyes as he uncorked the top and poured the crimson liquid into her glass. She ground her teeth snatching the glass. The bile and hate bubbled inside her chest while staring into the dark pool.

  “How much do I need to tell you?”

  “As much as you want,” he said. “As much as—”

  Pippa chugged the glass and slammed it back down before using the back of her arm to wipe her mouth. She burped and gave the barkeep a wink, glad he’d finally shut up. To her surprise, he chuckled.

  “And before you say anything,” she said. “I’m not some dirty undead or anything—I hate the stiffs and their uppity noble act—what a boring bunch of manipulative sods. You think after someone lived that long, they’d learn to grow some brains or be a little humble.”

  “Fair enough, but still, you seem like you’re feeling better now.” He tilted the bottle and ran a finger across the gold leaf printed on the front. “You know, I don’t get a whole lot of people ordering this, but I always remember the ones who do. And I don’t typically offer advice, but I want you to know that you don’t have to be ashamed of what you are.”

  “Nice spiel. Can I tell you my little story, or are you going to keep droning on?”

  The innkeeper gave her a warm smile and began cleaning the glass again. “Why don’t we start with those wonderful magical tattoos you have? How’d you come about those? You seem a little young to have that many.”

  Pippa strutted in the back with a grin and beckoned the innkeeper to follow. She organized the pots and pans before snagging the meat and vegetables from the cold box. It wasn’t long before a beefy potato stew was simmering on the stove.

  “These tattoos are glyphs, the language of magic, and they were a gift from a very annoying demon.” She snickered while stirring the pot. “That loser isn’t around anymore though. My brother…” She frowned. “My friend killed the demon. It’s a long story, and I don’t really want to go through the whole thing. That enough for you?”

  The innkeeper crossed his arms. “More than enough, but something did pique my interest—out of my own curiosity. You seem driven. Most of the people that wander in are lost or directionless, they find their way eventually, but you just seem different. I guess you could put it like this: Usually the people that come in are being chased, but you’re chasing something. What is it?”

  She grinned before stacking the bowls on a tray. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Pippa used the work to clear her mind and pay off her debt. She spent the whole day serving all the weird magical people that came to and fro in the inn, and she wouldn’t admit it, but it was nice to slow down with a hard day’s work. Most of the guests were nice enough, and hearing everyone else’s problems made her feel better in a strange way.

  “Innkeeper! This isn’t the usual slop!” a man said. “You going to hire this girl?”

  The innkeeper shared a warm smile with Pippa before they went back to work. The crowd was cheery, and the inn was stained with a thick beefy aroma that filled all the empty bellies. Comfort food was always the cure for everyone’s disease, whether it was loneliness, an existential crisis, or something darker.

  At the end of the long day, she slid into the barstool and took a swig of the red liquid. This time there was no fuss, only quiet introspection. The barkeeper was cleaning another glass while she traced the wood grains on the table. Her stomach was full, and it was time to get back to the underworld.

  “I tried to tell you earlier that one of my doors could take you back,” he said. “They still can whenever you’re ready.”

  Pippa slid the empty glass to him. “It’s fine, some things you need to learn on your own, right? I’m a firm believer in working hard and all that shite.”

  He took it with a gentle smile. “I see that.”

  She twisted her wrist, and a portal opened on the endless white sands of the underworld. The bitter wind rushed in and clashed with the gentle heat of the inn, and the air hummed with the crackling electricity. These were two worlds so opposed and so much the same, two opposite sides of the universal magnet.

  “I did it.” She grinned wide. “And thanks for the help and drink.”

  “It was all you, dear.”

  Pippa took a deep breath before marching into the underworld. It was time for her to become the demon she was meant to be—one powerful enough to protect her family and fix the broken underworld.

  She closed the portal behind her.