Imprisoned Gods - G. Bailey Page 0,34

but she was struggling to find work and keep a roof over her head. I think that’s maybe why we’ve stayed close over all these years, in spite of our differences; we’ve grown up in similar situations.

I frown as I take in the teenage partiers. From the look of sick on the one guy’s leg, I’m starting to think I didn’t miss out on much. They pay for their tickets and choose to sit at the back, laughing about pointless teenage stuff as I look around. The next stop should be mine, and the last thing I want to do is miss it and end up lost in some unfamiliar city. I climb out of my seat, pressing the stop button and then slowly walking to the front of the bus, where I wait next to the door.

The bus driver turns to look at me, pursing his lips. "A young lady like you shouldn't be out at night all alone, miss," he says as he slows the bus down in front of the bus stop. I turn and look at him: he’s a rather plain-looking middle-aged man in his work uniform. He smiles at me, the kind of smile that reminds me of my dad, with big eyes that are concerned for me. I feel a lump forming in my throat at the thought of him, and desperately try to put the unavoidable worry out of my mind. I can’t think about my dad, not without being concerned about how panicked he must be… if he’s okay, that is. Dad doesn’t like mum stressed or any of his kids in trouble. Today is definitely going to cause big problems, and that’s assuming the gods of justice haven’t already seen fit to imprison my family for not revealing where I’m going.

Realizing the bus driver is still staring at me, I jump, blinking. "Don't worry about me; I can handle myself," I reply to him as the bus slows to a halt, but he still looks apprehensive as he presses the button for the doors to slide open. I wave at him before jumping off the bus, ignoring his sigh as he closes the doors behind me. The partiers continue to jostle and joke with each other in the back of the bus as I wait at the bench. I watch the driver hustle off, the bus receding up the hill and into the distance.

The street is surprisingly busy, for such a non-central part of the city, and the streets are crowded with drunk teenagers and working people. It’s nearly three in the morning, but considering that it’s a weekend, it’s not surprising that the streets are still busy. A cold breeze hits me, reminding me of the walk to the nightclub with Mads; that feels like it was centuries ago, even though everything only happened a few hours back. Is it possible that just this morning I was opening Mum’s gift and wondering what kinds of shenanigans we would get up to tonight?

Slowly I move away from the bus stop, tugging my leather jacket more tightly around me, grateful for its warmth even if it’s thin. Dark clouds fill the sky overhead, obscuring the stars like a blanket of black smoke. Occasionally, the moon peers out from behind them, illuminating the street and reflecting on the windows of the nearby businesses. There is a row of pubs here, all of them filled to the brim with drunk people who are either laughing, shouting, or trying to get even more wasted. I glance down the street at the only semi-quiet pub on the row, the one that looks miles creepier than the others. This is the one I need, funny enough. Pretty stereotypical, if you ask me, I think, although I guess there’s something to be said for hiding in plain sight. I furrow my brow as I peer at the sign, which confirms that this is the place: The Swanky Swan Pub.

I remember Peyton telling me about this place, but I've never actually been here - it’s not exactly close to home, and Mum has never been too keen to have us venturing to these areas of the city, even with our powers. The name is sure memorable, though. Peyton told me he would come here as a teenager with some of his mates. According to him, that was how he found out about the portal; one night, he tripped over himself, drunk as a bat, and stumbled directly through the