Inhuman Heritage by Sonnet O'Dell

have I could call? I dialed a number knowing it was a long shot.
    “Hello,” said the sweet female voice.
    “Bethany, it’s Cassandra.” There was silence on the other end. Bethany Silvas was half elf. She was Magnus’s younger half-sister. She and Magnus had different fathers; she lived with her father-Aziel Silvas-in the same commune that Magnus lived in. I’d saved her life and we’d been friends while I and her brother were dating. She was the only person I thought might be able to understand my situation. I was hoping her gratitude towards me for my timely rescue of her and the fact that she had liked me would be enough for her to talk to me despite the fact that I had apparently broken her big brother’s heart.
    “I shouldn’t talk to you,” she said, “it would hurt him if he found out.”
    “Please. I wouldn’t have called but I have to talk to someone.”
    “Cassandra, I can’t, it’d be like betraying him, I can’t.”
    “Please, I have no one else to talk to.”
    It was too late, she’d hung up.

Chapter Five
    I woke Wraith by slapping him several times which was the usual way anyone woke him when he was passed out in the far corner of his club. Wraith was red more than he was tanned like he was perpetually sun burnt. He had ratty, dirty blonde dreads and favored wearing a vest and long shorts all year round. When he opened his eyes and spoke he had a distinct Irish accent but I’d never known if it was real or if he was extremely good at putting it on. He knocked an empty bottle of whiskey from the pillows on which he was resting as he raised his hand to block out the glare of the overhead lights.
    “I’m not open.” He closed his eyes and let his body go limp like he was planning on going back to sleep. I held him up by the vest and slapped him again putting a little more of that new strength I was getting into it. He woke up fully. “I’m open, I’m open.” I dropped him back onto the cushions and sat back against the railing. He sat up slowly rubbing his cheek that was beginning to swell a little with red finger marks from my hand. He gave me a rueful smile. Wraith’s club, the Dark Portal was only open whenever he felt like it. Wraith was a warlock; he specialized in potions, specifically pharma-psychological cocktails. Booze that warped your mind. He sold regular booze as well and managed to clear enough on the nights he was open not only to keep the club but restock his supplies, although I had always suspected there was something a little dodgy in the works there too.
    “Cassa babe,” he said extending his arms out to encompass his club, “ mi casa is su casa . Make yourself at home.”
    “After that article in the Conjurer it’s the least you can do.” He gave me a grin that was somewhat sheepish. He got himself an article in what amounted to the magical Hello Magazine describing the events of last September. He’d been there-if you can call hiding like a little girl in the bushes outside being there and had made several remarks to the reporter about my talent and my boob size.
    “Forgive me, I knew not what I did. That was on one of my less sober days.”
    “Bullshit, you’re the most functioning alcoholic I have ever met. You’d make everyone in AA look like they just weren’t trying hard enough.”
    “AA is for quitters. I’m not a quitter!” he announced proudly.
    “No, just a coward.”
    “Exactly.” He pulled himself up to his feet and picked up the empty bottle to swig from it and was disappointed when nothing came out. He wobbled a little looking at me. “What can I do for you anyway?”
    “What you do for your regular customers. You can pour me a drink.”
    * * * *
    Alcohol is supposed to have this wonderful effect, it lowers inhibition, it creates a feeling of euphoria and the best bit of all was it made you forget shit. I needed to forget. I’d spent my entire life thinking I was something only to discover that it wasn’t true, that the human