MAGE CHRONICLES: The Beginning.
1. The Beginning.

“I’ve got to say your ink is pretty unique.”

The sound comes from behind me referencing the ink I got done at the small of my back as part of our performance costume. Schooling my face, I brace for the interaction.

“Thanks, buy me a drink and I might show you the tramp stamp that goes with it,” I say, turning to the person who dares interrupt my solitude. It may be in a bar, but it was still sacred.

“Oh, my God! You are one beautiful man,” I blurt my mouth loosened by the number of drinks I had downed.

A snort comes from behind the gorgeous specimen in front of me, and I switch my focus, albeit reluctantly. The guy was fine.

“Woooah! What is in the water where you come from? Girl, you are smoking,” I tell the sexy goddess behind the broody hottie, “You kind of look like that chick from that movie, The Old Guard, her name was Andy, i think.”

They stare at me all silent and intimidating, but I was well on my way to tipsy so it didn’t work. Not giving them a chance to respond I go on.

“So, what’s up? I’m pretty sure you’re not picking me up, not with sex on legs here,” I say, turning to BH.

“Ooooooooh! Is it a threesome?” I continue before they could react, “If so, no thank you,” I declare and turn back to my drink. That was enough deterrent, no one wanted to speak to a bambling drunk.

“Uhhhhhhmm,” starts Broody Hottie.

Why? I inwardly whine, why won’t they leave me alone?

“We are not really here for that,” Andy says.

OK, Mahi you tried, your evil therapist better note that I tell myself pulling my resting bitch face on and turning to the annoying gnats, sexy ones, yes, but still gnats.

“Talk.”

“We have an offer for you,” starts BH.

“Pass,” I cut him off.

“You are not telling it right,” the hottie with them legs huffs in frustration, scooting to the front. At this point, I’m signalling Ryder, #myfavoritebartender for a refill.

“Do you believe in mythical creatures…?”

“It’s Mahi and Maybe…why?”

“Well, long story short we are mage recruiters; basically, there are two groups; light and shadow mages.”

“Which are you?”

“Shadow.”

“Cool,” I say gesturing for Ryder to pick up his pace.

“And for the past two months, you’ve been pinging on our radar like crazy, but every time we get close to replaceing you, you disappear.”

“For example, we followed you in here, but about ten minutes since you got into this bar, your signature disappeared.”

“Look,” I say grabbing my glass, “That is good and all, but you want me to believe I’m a mage as in a Fae, Elf, or Shifter? That shit? Yeah no, I’m not that drunk.”

“Look here, pipsqueak…”

“Oh look, he found his tongue,” I start going on the defensive, to kill the conversation that was getting weirder by the minute, “I was wondering if you were just here for the intimidation, it’s not working by the way.”

“You are in danger, if we found you, you bet your ass others are going to and we can’t promise they will be nice,” he threatens.

“Well, that is nice and all, but you see those ‘others’, they beat you here and their pitch was way better. I’m surprised you didn’t see them, some mages you are. So once again, no thank you.”

“So why didn’t you go with them?” BH asks.

“I need Ryder’s stuff to survive, I don’t do well under authority and they were light mages.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Andy asks.

“I found out that most of the time the people who claim to and play nice are the meanest mother truckers on the planet and more often than not also have a God complex, besides they were too pretty and bright.”

“What’s wrong with pretty?” BH asks.

“Nothing I like pretty but with a side of broody and rugged,” I answer, smirking at him.

“I like her,” Andy declares.

She really looked like Andy from The Old Guard.

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Andy in my head.”

“I liked that movie,” she says, smirking.

BH scoffs, making me turn to him in surprise., “Am I missing something here?”

“Hi, I’m Morrigan, but you can call me Mor.”

“Hold up, was the movie by any chance about you?”

“Yes, though they missed quite a few details.”

“But wait, isn’t Morrigan Irish or something like that, Andromache gave a more Grecian or Roman vibe.”

“Staying in one place for long among humans is quite a task for immortals, so I tend to move around often. Different cultures give different names. I’ve forgotten some of them.”

“What’s your original name?”

“The Morrigan.”

“So, you’re the crow lady.”

“For someone who’s sceptical about immortals and magic, you seem to know a lot.”

“I like fantasy and paranormal books, fae ones, especially RH romance.”

“Well, you could be her new best friend,” BH comments.

“OK,” I say, finishing up my drink, “This has been fun but I’ve got to jet.”

And with that, I haul ass with one last wave to Ryder, who blows me a kiss.