Scarlett Wrappley's Arc

Chapter 9 of 9

The drained barrel sat empty in the corner. Scarlett stared at her formula and knew she had reached the wall. The red batch was close, but it needed more drink samples to balance the taste. Garrison used to bring them from the bar. He had not answered her notes in days, not since he killed the hunter. She capped the flask and pulled her plastic bag over her shoulder. If he would not come to her, she would go to him. The old bar wobbled on its crooked porch, lanterns swinging in the dark. Inside, the regulars hunched over their glasses. Scarlett spotted Garrison behind the counter. He wiped the same spot again and again. When he saw her, his hand stopped. Then he turned his back and busied himself with a shelf. The distance stung worse than any wound. "Aye, you're the one he keeps not talking about." A small dwarf woman planted herself at Scarlett's elbow. Her head was large, her body tiny, and she barely reached the counter. She carried a tray of empty mugs with both hands. The barmaid had worked this floor longer than anyone. "He's been like a kicked dog for a week. Sulks. Breaks glasses. You did that?" "I need his help," Scarlett said. "He won't look at me." The dwarf set the tray down and squinted up. "Then don't make him look. Make him remember why he liked you." She pulled a soft toy monkey from her apron pocket and set it on the bar. Its stitched arms were patched with colored thread. "Left behind by some child months back. Garrison keeps it near the taps. Won't say why. Soft heart under all that fur." Scarlett understood. Garrison did not want thanks for the killing. He wanted to know she still saw the man, not the monster. She picked up the little monkey and carried it down the bar. She placed it on the counter in front of him. "You dropped this," she said. "I think it belongs with you." Garrison looked at the toy. His shoulders dropped. "I did a bad thing for you," he said, low. "I thought you'd stop wanting me around." "I came here for you," Scarlett said. "Not to hide from you. I need my partner back." He held the monkey a moment. Then he set it beside the taps where it lived. He reached under the counter and pulled out a wooden crate. Inside, dozens of small bottles clinked, each labeled in his rough hand. "Been collecting since you left," he said. "Didn't know if you'd want them." Scarlett opened her bag and loaded the bottles inside. The weight pressed against her hip, heavy and full. She had her samples. She had her partner. But as she counted the labels, she saw one drink she had never tested, marked with a strange red seal she did not recognize.