An Odd Pull

[Atticus’ POV]

“Why are you here again?”

August, the bartender and owner of Morte Diem, stares at me curiously as I sip at my drink while extending my senses to see if I could feel anything that stood out.

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” I counter.

Since coming to Boston, this was the place I spent most of my time since it was the gathering place for supernaturals.

I stumbled across it during my first week here and have been frequenting it ever since.

“You’re making my guests uncomfortable,” he continues, nodding toward a man with glittery skin and what looked like vines wrapping around him who is watching me with a look of unease on his face. “Could you not look like such a fucking creeper?”

“Creeper?” I repeat, frowning. “I don’t quite understand what that term means.

I was still adjusting to human slang and terms since leaving the Darklands. It was all so foreign and unusual, but if I wanted to fit the part of belonging, I needed to know.

“Freak?” he offers. “Stalker? You look like some