By the Dark Stream

11The Night Light Lounge had been the fashonable place to be seen in its heyday, but that had been over a decade ago. The elegantly subdued decor had held up nicely over the years, and the smell of the plush leather chairs was a finishing touch to the vision of its faded glory. Still, it maintained a respectable crowd most nights and provided a comfortable living for its owners on the back of those who still enjoyed a quiet place to grab a drink, a dance, and the occasional extracurricular marital activity.

The clouds had rolled in late in the afternoon, speeding sundown's clutch on the city. Even though it was colder than usual this winter, there was no shortage of customers in and out of the place. Both bartenders were working steady to keep up with the orders, and all five waitresses were earning better than average tips for a Thursday. The patrons had rolled over in the usual pattern, and the first group of early-nighters had just left when a decided chill seemed to blow in through the front doors. The juke box had just fallen silent between songs, accentuating the moment. Nearly everyone turned towards the front to see who was holding the doors open, but they had already closed by the time anyone had a chance to see. It was an eerie moment until the next song came up and all the conversations got restarted.

Caroline hadn't noticed the man sitting at the corner table until he lit his cigarette. As she headed that way, she saw that the smoke gathered in a small cloud under the brim of his hat, Iobscuring his eyes. She smiled as she reached the table to take his order, trying to get a good look at his face, "Good evening, sir. What can I get you tonight?" He returned her smile, but didn't look up enough for her to see his whole face. "I'll have two fingers of bourbon on ice, please." His voice was deep and quiet, a comfortable voice, she decided. "Right away, sir," she said as she laid a fresh ash tray on the table in front of him, "Back in a jiffy."

He sat quietly, watching the patrons as they interacted with one another. It would take him time to pinpoint the one he had been drawn to, but the night was young and he had nothing but time. He looked over the crowd one by one. He was hoping he'd been drawn here by a man, since they were often easier to approach neutrally. He had scanned nearly half of the crowd when Caroline came back with his drink. As he passed her a ten dollar bill, she felt a little spark pass between them, her hand recoiling a moment before taking the bill. He looked up at her this time, "Keep the change, Caroline." She gave him her best open smile, "Why, thank you. Just let me know if there's anything else you need." He looked at her fingers and apologized, "Sorry about the spark, it must be the wool coat." She giggled a little, "That's alright, I guess we don't get enough winter around here to make much static." He turned his eyes down towards his drink, and she left to check on her other customers.

At least he knew who he'd been drawn to. It these instances, it usually wasn't someone in her kind of work. People like that normally interacted with people so much they rarely remembered details of any encounter. But maybe it wasn't something from her job. He would have to tread lightly to complete his calling. Women were always more cautious these days.

The evening wore on, and the stranger had ordered some hot wings and another bourbon as the other patrons began leaving in ones and twos, heeding the call of the cold to go home or to any other place that promised warmth for the night. The other waitresses left, and it was down to one bartender, Caroline, and the stranger. He had moved to the bar by now, and the wool overcoat was draped over the back of the barstool next to him. Caroline and the bartender were cleaning up behind the bar when the stranger summoned the bartender with a nod. As the bartender stepped up to the bar, the stranger leaned forward as if wanting to whisper something to him. The blow took the bartender down so fast, he was unconscious before he hit the mat behind the bar. Caroline turned just as the bartender fell, noting an astonished look on the stranger's face. She rushed to kneel at the fallen man's side. She noticed a shadow on the floor as the stranger leapt over the bar, and suddenly the lights went out.

Caroline awoke sitting in one of the chairs in the middle of the bar. The lights had been brought up as they usually did after hours when the cleaning crew came in. She realized she was tied to the chair, and the bartender was sitting, also tied, in a chair facing her. While he had a gag placed in his mouth, she did not. She started to call for help when she felt a cool hand on her shoulder, near her neck. "Please don't," the stranger said, "No one's been hurt, and no one will be hurt if you cooperate." She closed her mouth and quietly said, "Okay, but there's not much here to steal that hasn't already gone into the safe."

"I'm not here for money, Caroline." She felt her heart skip a beat as he went on, "What I'm here for is something I can only get from you." She began to cry, convinced she wasn't going to see the sunrise, and began preparing herself to fight the stranger off when he made his move. The stranger pulled another chair up to her right side. Still wearing the hat, he spoke to the bartender, "My friend, I'm sorry about taking you down, but you're a bit younger than I am, and I would hate to cause you any permanent damage." The bartender didn't seem convinced, and was obviously furious about their predicament, but the look on his face became one of puzzlement as the stranger went on, "I also want you to be a witness to what I have to do." The puzzled expression suddenly changed to one of horror as the stranger produced a very large knife, and rested it in Caroline's lap. Her eyebrows raised as she beheld the knife. The blade was double edged, and at least 10 inches long. The handle was shaped like an old fashioned coffin, and appeared to be made of bone. Her breath caught in her throat as he picked the knife up, holding it in front of her. He said simply, "My dear Caroline, it's not going to be as bad as you think...all I need from you is a memory."

With that, he placed the tip of the blade against his own palm. With a short flick of the wrist, he sliced his palm open for an inch, and then placed his bleeding hand on her forehead. She felt like she was going down a drain as she lost consciousness again.

When she woke, she was able to see that she'd been out for a little over an hour. The bartender was no longer sitting across from her, and she was almost too scared to look around for him. She noticed she was no longer tied to the chair, and steeled her nerves to sit forward. The lights had been drawn down to the comfortable level for patrons, and as she looked to the left, she saw the bartender sitting across from the stranger at a nearby table. He was relaxed, his elbows on the table, listening to the stranger's low voice. Caroline mentally checked herself, noting she was still clothed, and apparently uninjured. She could tell her face had been washed, and the stranger's overcoat was draped over her modestly. The stranger turned her direction said simply, "I'm sorry about the melodrama, my dear, but it really was necessary for me to give you a bit of a fright to get what I need." His left hand was now bandaged neatly, and she didn't know whether to be scared, angry, or revulsed. The bartender placed a third glass on the table and filled it with bourbon. "You might want this, C...he swears he won't hurt us," he raised the pistol from beneath the cash register in his hand, "he even let me get this to make sure."

Caroline got up and went over to the table, handing the man back his overcoat. She once again felt a spark pass between them, but now she knew it had nothing to do with the wool. The stranger nodded to her as he took the coat, but the hat remained in place, as if it was a permanent fixture for him. She sat down and looked at the glass in front of her. She decided to wait on deciding whether or not to drink it. "Okay," she said levelly, "what just happened?" The stranger said simply, "I needed something you don't know how to give me, so I took it from you." She looked back down at the glass, then picked it up and tossed it down, almost regretting it as soon as the burn hit her throat. She set the glass on the table upside down, and whispered through the burn, "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

He chuckled as he responded, "Wow, I don't think I could toss it back like that anymore, but you do deserve an answer." He leaned back in the chair a moment, inspecting the bandage on his hand and gathering his thoughts. "There was a memory in your experience that you might not even be aware of. It might have been a passing moment in time for you, or even something that you didn't even know you had witnessed. I couldn't just ask you about it, because your mind would have automatically filtered the event, and I wouldn't have any way of knowing whether or not what you told me was actually what happened."

Caroline felt her face get warm, and before she could react, the image of her little sister walking down the stairs to the subway, never to be seen again flashed in her mind.10 years had passed since then...the man walking behind her on the stairs now stood out in sharp contrast to everyone else in the memory. Her breath caught in her throat as the stranger smiled..."Yes, Caroline, that was the memory, and yes, the man was real." Questions raced through her mind, but before she could even begin to form the words, the stranger tilted his head back to look her in the eyes. His eyes...shining with a dim gold, seemed to immediately calm her. She had never seen eyes that color. At least not in a human being. She knew she had nothing to fear from this man, while knowing in her heart that those eyes had been the last thing many had seen as they died. She blurted out, "Who are you? WHAT ARE YOU?!" Her legs were frozen in place...fear gripped at her heart, while her mind reeled at what she had said to him. He smiled a genuinely warm, beguiling smile as he took a sip of his drink.

"You can call me Felix, if you need a name, and you can ask me any question and get an answer."

"My sister?"

The smile drained away from Felix's face.

"She's dead, Caroline, 30 minutes after you last saw her."

Caroline had already known she would never see her again when Lucy hadn't returned when the streetlamps came on. "Tell me about the man" was all she could say. Felix's beguiling smile returned, "No need to worry about him, Caroline. He is not the problem, but merely a symptom." he fixed his eyes on her, "By sunrise, he will be nothing but a vague memory."