Misty walked through the streets of the Heywood district with a surreal expression, clutching a bag tightly in her hands. More specifically, she was heading toward the corner of Los Lobos Street and M. Ebunike in the Glen.
There, her destination for today awaited—something she had promised herself she would do as soon as she finally became… a druid's apprentice?
She had a debt to repay.
Even now, after going through the final ritual under her master's guidance (she had never been so terrified in her short life), a part of her almost expected to wake up at any moment and realize it had all been nothing more than an overly feverish dream.
And when she opened her eyes, she would be lying in a bathtub full of ice, missing chrome or organs.
Eating that fruit with its indescribable taste had already tested her will after a small, tentative bite—especially knowing she had to eat the whole thing for it to work.
She still gagged just thinking about it…
She couldn't eat anything for two days!
She had to survive on intravenous feeding; her stomach simply refused to get over the shock.
Barely overcoming that point, she then had to face the Rabbit of Caerbannog, which was, in a way, liberating—an excellent way to vent her frustration while confronting the raw, adorable, and savage law of nature face to face.
But she couldn't deny that the grilled rabbit meat with spices Gordon had made was the best thing she had ever eaten. It was a bit bipolar—and perhaps vindictive—after two and a half hours of high-intensity fighting against a white rabbit with a murderous instinct no rabbit should have. It practically helped her forget the taste of the fruit.
Almost…
"It still stings a little," she thought.
According to Faelan, it would take some time to get used to it.
"Here I am." Misty stopped and looked at the bar sign in front of her.
The Coyote Cojo.
She took a deep breath and walked in.
The atmosphere of the rundown bar—frequented mostly by locals and anyone who appreciated good food and could afford it—hit her in the face as she approached the counter.
She could feel eyes falling on her immediately, but she didn't let it intimidate her.
That rabbit had tempered her nerves more than she would ever admit.
Many ignored her at first and continued chatting after a brief glance, but some of the Valentinos, apparently recognizing her, discreetly nudged their friends to bring them up to speed.
Though now, it was hard not to recognize her…
"Well, well, it's been a while since I've seen you around here, Misty," the bartender said, setting a glass aside and leaning over the counter with his elbows. "How have you been lately? You hear things."
Ah, she could feel that look again.
"Hi, Pepe," Misty greeted, placing the bag on the counter and hopping onto a stool. "Yeah, things have changed quite a bit since the last time I came. How are things going with Cynthia?"
Mentioning the woman made the bartender smile.
"Good, good. The pregnancy's got her a bit on edge, but the idea of becoming a father keeps me motivated to handle these double shifts," Pepe Najarro replied. "You definitely look different, though the rumors say it all. Is that…?"
He gestured toward her forehead.
"Yeah." Misty touched the small set of antlers growing there. They were still forming, and her skin itched. "Does it look weird?" she asked, a bit uncertain.
Compared to her master's antlers, hers were modest—small, even—but in a way, they were proof of her uniqueness and a recent source of pride. She just hadn't gotten used to them yet.
"I've seen all kinds of chrome and… some things I'd rather completely forget," Pepe examined her for a moment before giving his opinion. "This? It suits you. Cute, even."
Cute…
Misty let out a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she was holding.
"So, is it true what they say?" he leaned in, lowering his voice. "You and the Druid of Night City…"
The bar grew noticeably quieter, the patrons' ears practically twitching as they discreetly listened in.
"Yeah," Misty said. She could talk about it—Faelan had taken precautions. "I'm his apprentice now!" She opened the bag she had been carrying.
"This is…" Pepe looked at the contents in surprise.
"Real potatoes and a bottle of olive oil," Misty said proudly. They were the successful result of her first attempts with her druid powers—at least Faelan had made sure these potatoes wouldn't explode when stepped on.
Dorio had gotten quite a scare…
"I wanted to ask Mama Welles to make some fries with her special sauce. It's been a long time since I've had them." She looked around. "Did she go out to get something?"
She hadn't seen her since coming in, which was unusual.
Pepe's expression tightened when he heard Misty mention his boss and the owner of El Coyote Cojo, quickly trying to hide his reaction.
"She took the day off today," Pepe said hurriedly. "Don't worry, I'll take care of making the fries. As it happens, there's still some of Mama Welles' secret sauce left in the kitchen. I've got it—give me a moment." He grabbed the bag and quickly headed to the kitchen.
Misty was left speechless at the counter.
She had never seen Pepe move that fast—not even for tips.
Wait…
Mama Welles taking a day off?
The same woman who had only ever missed work to give birth to Jackie?
She didn't need to look at the customers behind her to know something was off—and if things were as she thought (and something similar had already happened before), the culprit was obvious.
Raúl Welles.
Jackie's father and Guadalupe "Mama" Welles' husband—a drunk who beat his family with a belt.
Faelan knew that eventually Jackie would use that very same belt against the man who beat him and his mother, leaving him hospitalized and threatening to kill him if he ever came back.
He even kept the belt as a symbol of what had happened—and as a warning to himself, swearing he would use it if Raúl ever returned.
But Misty didn't have that information.
When her parents died, before she ended up working for Vik at the clinic, it was Mama Welles who had extended a hand to her. She let her sleep in the bar, gave her food, a chance to earn some money helping as a waitress or dishwasher, and a place to return to before going to Vik's.
As for why she didn't take her home, Misty had spent enough time with her and Jackie to understand the reason and the situation they were in…
Her first thought and suspicion, after Pepe's behavior, was that Raúl had lashed out at the family once again. Even if that wasn't the case this time…
"If Raúl disappeared, Jackie and his mother would be better off, right?" she thought, staring at the palm of her hand. "No, I'm just getting started. I don't have that kind of capability yet."
Being exposed to Faelan had already changed her; her worldview was shifting without her even realizing it.
Her former self would have never considered an idea like that as a first option.
"Hiring some mercs is out of the question…" Raúl was scum, but he was still part of the Valentinos, even if his rank was practically cannon fodder.
He had no skill—only ambition, which was usually a bad combination.
"I'll ask Master for help," Misty decided.
Her pride might whisper that she should grow stronger and act on her own, but her heart refused to prolong the Welles family's suffering just for her ego.
She was going to repay this debt of gratitude—with blood.
"Your fries!" Pepe returned with a plate full of potato wedges covered in Mama Welles' secret sauce. "Hope you don't mind—I took a couple to make sure they were done right," he joked.
"Of course not!" Misty grabbed a sauce-covered potato and popped it into her mouth. "Mmm, these are fantastic! Compliments to the chef."
Pepe smiled and nodded, setting down a glass of cold water for her before someone else called for a drink and he had to get back to work, leaving Misty alone with her fries.
She picked up the glass with her other hand, and with a faint flicker of green light, it turned into pure mountain spring water.
Not that the bar's water was bad or dirty (at least not more than anywhere else in this city), but Faelan had gotten her used to "purifying" everything she drank.
Partly for practice, partly for safety.
"I guess not everything is an upgrade," Misty sighed inwardly as she ate another fry, feeling it again.
Now she could taste the artificial elements in the sauce, and it knocked down its appeal quite a bit—like most things, really.
Which was a shame, because she really liked Mama Welles' secret sauce.
Maybe she could give her organic ingredients to make a genuine version?
"I should ask Gordon—he might be able to help. He's the expert when it comes to cooking…"