Disclosure: Magic. Mayhem. Misfits. For Cassie, it’s just another day in Glasgow. (D Notice Book 2) by Louise McLaughlin
The patrons of the Pyramid bar were mainly a mix of politicians, civil servants, spies and the occasional confused tourist who was convinced TripAdvisor had said the Spoons was around here somewhere. Seth knew that being a semiretired god had its perks: he got to run a small but very lucrative business, and best of all, he got to play with the humans. His preferred method of meddling was to pit them against one another. It was almost too easy sometimes, especially when alcohol was involved.
“The usual?” asked Seth.
“Yes, just a small one. It is a school night, after all,” replied Cassie.
On this particular evening, it was slow trade in the bar. There was Cassie, a Government intern, who just happened to have magical powers, and the ever-present Eros, the Greek god of love – yes, that Eros – had popped in for a nightcap. That was six drinks ago. Eros was a statuesque Greek man, oblivious to the fact that he was now rather portlier than the statue he represented. He had a head of tight, curly hair, less cherub-like and more like a grey Bob Ross. He wore a pristine white T-shirt, and he had squeezed himself into tight black trousers that refused to cover all of his expanding backside. “Quiet night,” Eros said as he looked around.
“Well, it is a Tuesday, and the karaoke machine is dead,” Seth replied.
“No karaoke is probably a blessing,” observed Cassie.
Seth poured a shot of an ethereal, swirling, iridescent liquid. Eros took a sip and sighed in satisfied relief. A slight pink haze floated on the top of the Angel Share. It was a potent alcohol that tasted like rocket fuel with a hint of candyfloss. Angel Share was created in 1609 by an alchemist named John Bulloch, who was also an accomplished wizard, as is often the case. One winter solstice, he was entertaining a throng of druids, but he had very little to offer by way of libations. As invention is often the product of necessity, and the celebration required booze, he had the genius idea of casting a spell that took a tiny, minuscule drop from every barrel of spirit in the whole world. The share taken was so small at first that the humans didn’t notice. When they did notice, they said it was evaporation. And with that explanation, the perfect theft expanded into a worldwide empire. John and his descendants had been bottling the Angel Share for centuries and distributing it to their kind, for a very reasonable cost.
“I miss the old days.” Eros took a belt of the sweet burning liquid. He twiddled his greying, curly hair around one of his stubby fingers. “I miss being a god.”
“You are a god.” Seth raised an eyebrow, wondering if it was time to stop serving Eros for the night, but reconsidered – his money was as good as anyone’s.
“I mean, being a god, living the life of a god. Didn’t you feel the rush when we fought Mother? It felt as if we were back. We were powerful again and we could take on the world.” Eros beat his chest and almost fell off his barstool.
“The whole point of that was so that things didn’t change, so those bloody Anunnaki didn’t come back.”
“But we could have changed things so we could be back,” Eros lamented.
Cassie was not finding this conversation entertaining, “We could have changed things to improve the world. Not hide in Glasgow.”