Liquid Courage

The Executive Suite on the 51st floor was a temple of excess. Leather walls, a fireplace, and a bar stocked with bottles that cost more than Elias’s car.

Mara stood behind the bar. She had lined up the strongest spirits: 151-proof rum, cask-strength bourbon, and the pièce de résistance—a bottle of banned, pre-war Absinthe that sat on the CEO's desk like a trophy.

"He's coming," Elias hissed from the doorway.

The double doors blew open. Kael entered, dragging a terrified junior analyst by the ankle.

"Ms. Vance," Kael growled. "You are not in the atrium. And you are not herding the sheep."

"Change of plans, Kael," Mara called out. She popped the cork on the Absinthe. The smell of anise and raw alcohol filled the room. "I decided to host a private tasting."

Kael dropped the analyst. He stalked toward the bar. "You test my patience. Perhaps I will eat you anyway. I can spit out the gristle."

"Come have a drink first," Mara said. Her hands were steady now. Not because she was drunk, but because she was angry.

She took a mouthful of the Absinthe. It tasted like gasoline and green herbs. She held it in her cheeks.

Kael lunged. He moved faster than a human, vaulting over the mahogany bar, his jaws opening wide to bite her face off.

Mara didn't flinch.

She held up the Zippo lighter. She flicked the wheel.

* Click. Whoosh.*

Mara spat the mouthful of high-proof alcohol through the flame.

A cone of fire erupted from her mouth, a dragon’s breath of blue and orange flame. It engulfed Kael’s face instantly.

The Ghoul shrieked—a high, piercing sound that shattered the crystal glasses on the shelves. The alcohol clung to his parchment skin, burning ferociously.

"Elias! Now!" Mara screamed, wiping her mouth.

Elias ran forward and shoved the rolling library ladder into the shelves behind the bar.

* Crash.*

Dozens of bottles of high-proof spirits rained down on the flailing, burning monster. Whiskey, gin, vodka—it was fuel for the fire. The space behind the bar turned into an inferno.

Kael thrashed, blinded and burning. He stumbled backward, crashing through the CEO's desk, screaming about quarterly projections.

He staggered toward the panoramic window. The glass, already weakened by the blizzard's pressure and the heat of the fire, gave way.

With a final, wailing shriek, Mr. Kael fell backward out of the 51st floor, tumbling into the white void of the storm, a falling star of burning greed.