Three Cursed Gods

01 : A NONEXISTENT BAR

The bar was different from other bars in one crucial aspect: it could not be found on a map.

This was due to spell work, of course, an enchantment woven by a Descendant to conceal its location from anyone without magic in their blood. It wasn't the only unplottable place that existed—many other businesses and buildings that catered to Descendants were also under the same protection—but it was the nearest one in this particular area of Queens.

Every Descendant in the neighborhood knew of Devilry and Drinks—knew the way the flickering lights illuminated the faded posters on the walls, the feel of the green velvet of the pool table underneath your hand, the sound of the chairs creaking as you sat down at a table, knew the place the way you know someone very dear to you.

It was a favorite haunt for many, and was often packed with people, yet somehow the place never filled completely. If you looked carefully at the walls on a particularly busy day, you would be able to see them warp and bend in order to comfortably fit all the patrons in ways that would not be possible without magic. The Descendants loved this place, for it was a reflection of them, with magic in its very bones—here was some where they didn't have to hide their powers—they could let it run, wild, free, unchecked.

Well—maybe not unchecked, thought McKayla as she strode into the bar. There are laws after all.

The door swung shut behind her with a snick, as she glanced around, taking in the dark, slightly humid atmosphere she'd come to know so well. The overhead lights flickered, illuminating the vintage posters from back in the eighties—Nigel, the owner, had not yet accepted the end of that era. There were tables all over the room where people converged, having hearty discussions while sipping on their drinks, and in the back, the pool tables and dining booths were just as lively.

McKayla grinned at a few people that she recognized, lifting her hand in a half wave before turning her gaze towards the counter. She began to make her way towards it, pushing past people, and ignoring the dirty looks she got in return.

A lanky blond who'd been unfortunate enough to be standing in her way scowled when McKayla pushed him aside. She caught a flicker of movement near his hands, and she glanced down to see small arcs of electricity jumping between his fingers.

"Uh-uh," she warned. "No using your Manifest to hurt people. It's against the law."

The blond sneered at her. "Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?"

She blinked. "Arrest you. I'm a cop."

The Descendant blanched, the electricity quickly dissipating. He turned abruptly on his heel and strode away, McKayla smirking at his receding figure. She understood his fear though—the laws against Descendants were notoriously harsh, but for good reason. Just imagining having an outbreak of magic into the Ordinary community, the havoc they could wreak and the chaos they could cause made her shiver. No, the ORDER existed for a reason, and they meant well, no matter how strict they might be.

Finally, she made it to the counter, and pulled up a stool, watching Nigel, the bartender, speak to customers. She waited with giddy anticipation, her fingers unable to stop tapping the table, her legs restlessly kicking the leg of her chair. McKayla took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself—Nigel wouldn't be free for another ten minutes by the looks of it, so she had to channel her energy elsewhere.

It was hard though—this was the first lead in months that she'd gotten on the Rhapsody case. This could be it—what she needed to finally get to the bottom of this drug cartel and end it for once and for all. Maybe this would be what would help her let go. Finally, for the first time in two years, she'd be able to rest easy without Linda's ghost hanging over her—