Zipper’s The Saint of Lost Causes

same night just later

---

This was possibly the worst place he could have found himself. Yet he’d moved almost on autopilot since leaving his and Frank’s house. Or was it just Frank’s now? Or just his? For tonight, a hotel room near the river was his only sure residence. But he didn’t stay for long. Only to drop his belongings off, then turn right around and head back out into the night.

Into Rice Bluff. Through the doors of Zippers. The last time he’d come, he’d been dragged out by Frank, toted home to recover. His stomach clenched to remember it. The smell of blood and sweat, the sting of alcohol, the itch of stitches. The aching pain of the argument they’d had when he woke.

It was quieter this night. He had never been outside of a Were-exclusive night. The energy, while still kinetic and lively with adrenaline, was drastically different. With no inner beasts to sport, the crowd seemed subdued.

Now that he was here, though, he lost direction on what he was doing. He’d gotten here, now what? Climb back into the ring he and Asha had mauled each other in? Pit himself up against some human fighter? It would be pointless. He’d only be making sure he didn’t kill whoever it was with a single punch.

So he found himself at the bar. Not somewhere he visited often, but he was not uncomfortable in the bar stool. He sat with his back to the ring, finding it almost impossible to look at for long. He murmured an order of gin and tonic to the bar tender, then moved to pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers, eyes crinkling shut as he exhaled. No tears, but his head was beginning to pound. It distracted him enough that he did not realize he was being approached.

Zaharia had been here once. Sayed remembered that she’d been upset and went to Zipper’s and wound up hurt. And while it was painful to think of her now, he still found himself traveling to Rice Bluff and heading inside the fighting ring.

It certainly wasn’t a place he’d normally visit, and he cringed inwardly as he looked at the ring with two brutes currently going at it. He couldn’t imagine her in it. Couldn’t imagine someone laying hands on her.

Ugh.

He looked away and headed for the bar instead. He was never interested in fighting and he’d just now discovered that he wasn’t too keen in watching fights either. But this would have to be better than sitting at his apartment hating the fact that he’d come back only for everything that had crumbled before to be ground into dust. He was stupid for thinking he’d be the cement to build it back together.

It wasn’t hard to miss the king shifter sitting at the bar. He paused for a second, reconsidering being here, but shrugged and went to the bar anyway. Ordered himself a rum and coke and sat down at the bar, a few seats away from the shifter, and just stared at the drink placed in front of him.

Through the pungent smog of cigarette smoke and human stink, there came the undeniable rotten smell of something dead. It ghosted through the lively patronage, undetected by anyone else but Mathis. A leech at the feet of humanity.

He had it within him to be violent. Cruel. To let his disgust for the creatures carry him through destroying them. On this night, specifically; when he’d turned his back on so much of who he’d been; it would not have been a surprise to even himself if he wordlessly turned upon the vampire.

But he instead stilled. A predator in the tall grass, frozen as he awaited the approach. Tensed and ready, he half expected the vampire to attempt to address him. They were always brazen like that, even in the face of someone that could so easily kill them. Even ones as strong as this one. He’d killed stronger.

But this one was quiet. It ordered at the bar, some bizarre and useless charade of humanity, then remained utterly wordless from two stools away. He did not even feel it’s cursed stare lingering on him.

He did not have it in him to do the same. Perhaps he was showing restraint in not taking it by the neck and dragging it out into the street. Perhaps the only thing that kept him from doing so was that this was not Alameda. Though, was Alameda’s still his to protect? It was only Frank’s now. It struck him then that Frank had within his power to turn him away from the city entirely. Regardless, he had no duty to protect Rice Bluff. Not unless the vampire suddenly caused a scene. Which was their favorite activity to do.

Mathis cast the vampire a harsh sidelong glance, ready to look away if it turned its eyes on him. How many vampires were there of this one’s power, truly? He knew only the most vital information about them; they could withstand the sun and fire. It was these especially that should not be allowed to survive.

This one was not immediately recognizable. There was something vaguely familiar in the side profile, but he did not look long enough to recognize more. He straightened further in his seat, tense, still undecided about what he should do with it.

The bar was considerably less rowdy than the rest of the establishment, which was what mainly kept Sayed in the chair. His index finger reached out to gently push the glass of soda and alcohol until he got that feeling that he was being watched. He sat up and looked around, eyes eventually landing on the shifter king a couple seats down. He'd already looked away and Sayed hadn't caught his eyes or head moving at all.

His gaze lingered for just a moment, but there was no recognition of the shifter. Cat, from the smell. Probably that one who lorded over Alameda. Which meant he probably hated that he was there. Sayed rolled his eyes and faced his glass again. Picked it up and swirled it around. He put it to his lips and let the liquid splash on them, but didn't really drink it. Instead, he pulled the glass and merely licked his lips.

It remained silent, though now it noticed his attention. Mathis grit his teeth together. A primal itch encouraged him to pounce regardless of circumstance. If only to release the tension that had been building within him, no matter if this vampire had done anything to him. By its nature, it had done enough to others that it deserved whatever brutality he could impose.

But this was not one of the vampires he wished to see dead, the most. It’s death would only exhaust him, maybe earn him injuries he did not need to waste time tending to. Momentary satisfaction, but ultimately nothing useful.

He glanced once more. And could not help but snort in some mix of amusement and disgust. What was it doing with a drink? ”A waste.” He huffed. Of money, of resources, of time. What was this thing besides a leech to all things living? Better off a pile of ash, but not worth the effort. He wondered, though, if he could find use for it.

Sayed heard what was said and glanced back towards the shifter. He wasn’t sure what was being referred to as a waste here: himself or the drink. Maybe both.

Still staring at the shifter, he grabbed the rum and coke and easily threw it back. Well, except for the face he pulled at the strong aftertaste. He hadn’t had any drinks for a long time, let alone alcohol. It wouldn’t be fun to throw up later.

But the drink couldn’t be called a waste now since it’d been imbibed. Sayed spun back around in his seat, facing the bar once more. He thought about getting the bartender’s attention and ordering another.

The response he received was… Was it supposed to be some kind of statement? An attempt at poignancy.

It was just bizarre. He may as well have watched someone pour a drink into the dirt.

But it did give him a better look at the vampire’s face. He did not meet it’s eye, but he studied the other features with a more stern eye.

The realization jumped to him as the vampire turned away. He’d seen the face. He’d once dedicated it to memory, and described it in detail to Yana. The vampire, of course, looked no different to how he had those years ago.

He wouldn’t be recognized. He’d been shifted at the time, chasing this vampire and a female one away from settling in Las Almas.

He knew it had escaped Yana, Asha and Levka’s hunting. But they’d never infested the city, so Mathis had called it a successful effort. Now, he was of the mindset that they should not have stopped hunting him until he was dead. It had managed to grow too strong.

The vampire seemed content to ignore him, but Mathis found himself leaning closer, his finger wagging as he said, “I thought someone would have killed you by now.” He remembered its disposition. It’s lack of awareness that the best choice for it would always be to run. He remembered it talking a lot more.

The response he received was... Was psychopathic a good word for it? Sayed would've choked on the drink if he still had any in his mouth. His head snapped back to the shifter, face twisted in a mixture of incredulity and fear. "What?" he asked, voice rather quiet. He studied the other man's face quickly, trying to find some sort of recognition in his brain's many files of People Who Hated Him. He found none.

He blinked and rubbed the side of his face, still trying to process what had just been said to him. He couldn't even come up with a snappy comeback in the moment.

This had to be Asha's doing. Passing around his picture and spreading lies about him.

A reaction, finally. Mathis should have known better than to be baiting for one, but in this instance he couldn’t help himself. The vampire had found him on a very bad night.

He drummed his fingers on the bar top, ”I thought one of them might have tracked you down.” Intentionally vague, implying that many people wanted to find this vampire. Maybe that wasn’t untrue. A slippery escape artist, he’d been told. Levka had followed him, but to no avail. How many other people’s clutches had he evaded? Would it be so bad to finish the job now?

One of them. Sayed frowned, wondering if the warning from the Uber driver had actually been serious. When it was obvious that no one had gone looking for him, he just assumed that it had been a bluff. Maybe this was still a bluff. But it was hard to continue calling everything a bluff when multiple shifters he didn't know recognized him and said this kind of shit to him.

"I don't know what you mean," he finally said, eyes moving away from the shifter. Because he truly didn't understand any of this. "I'm not looking for any trouble. Just came here to get my mind off of things."

His attempts to ruffle the vampire were hardly finding purchase. It kept him from riling himself, puzzling more than infuriating him. This was unlike most of the experiences he'd had with vampires. He remembered only two other times he'd exchanged more than a few snarled words with one. Beauregard, the Vampire King, and the miserable shit whose fangs he wore. Between the two, maybe this one was more like the former. If only that they were both stronger than they ever should be allowed to get.

It was not as strong as Beauregard, but it surely was close. It made his skin crawl to know what that entailed. The strength of its will, enough to force a Were to shift. But not him, not anymore. Mathis was still sure of that. It would never happen to him again, and he should do all he could to make sure it could not happen to anyone else.

But this vampire, for all its potential harm, was doing nothing wrong. It would, one day. It had, in past days. But tonight, of all nights, a vampire was being harmless.

Instead, Mathis reached into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. Wordlessly, he scrolled to a text thread with Abraham, and pulled the grainy photo to the full screen. He reached out, placed it on the bar before the seat between them. "Do you know this woman?" Hardly a woman.

---

it’s Raziyya

Sayed had always tried to keep his emotions under control; particularly in the face of situations that scared him. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. This was one of those scary times where he was doing okay. The shifter seemed to leave him be, surprisingly, after he said he didn't want trouble. But Sayed had tried to learn lessons, especially after being gone. He motioned to the bartender, wanting to close out his tab and was given the in a minute gesture. Sayed frowned- in hindsight, he should've just paid for this drink. It wasn't like he'd been planning on drinking this, or any others, anyway.

He gave a sideways glance towards the shifter, who was suddenly leaning closer to him. Sayed tensed, expecting some other subtle threat. Instead, the shifter's phone was placed on the bar close to him and he was asked if he could identify the woman in the photo. Sayed looked at the man first, but quickly leaned forward and dropped his eyes to the phone. The absolute audacity of this beast to threaten him and then ask for assistance. As he looked at the picture of the woman, that indignation burned a little brighter. So, he was threatened and then asked to help identify another vampire?

He knew it was Raziyya. And though things were clearly not the best between him and Beauregard, like hell was Sayed going to sell out one of Eventide's vampires; especially one who'd only ever been kind to him. Sayed looked back to the shifter, doing his best to look confused. "No," he said softly. "Why?"

He took long enough to study the photo that Mathis wondered if he was schooling his reaction to it. He watched the side of the vampire’s face, careful to avoid its eye. The answer was both expected and yet somehow irritatingly disappointing.

Surely this one was strong enough to have been around a number of its own kind. It was the only way Mathis knew any magical beast could grow to this level of strength.

“I wish to speak to her.” He stated blandly. Why did the vampire care what business he had with someone it apparently didn’t know?

Speaking was rather a loaded event when it came to shifters. This Sayed knew well. In his mind, Raziyya was definitely on someone's shit list. But, he'd play along. Not ask for the details. So Sayed nodded. "I assume she's a vampire?" Because why else would he be asked?

Another question. Mathis frowned, pulling the phone away. It was getting to be too much to tolerate. “If you do not know her, why do you care?” His patience was wearing thing. If this vampire had no useful information, then there wasn’t any reason not to kill it.

No one would look twice if he became violent here. No one would question him dragging the creature out to the alley to snap it’s neck. But there were still so many people around.

He pressed his knuckles into the bartop.

Wow, okay, asshole.

Sayed stared at him for just a moment longer. He wanted to say more, but decided against it. He'd tried to work on not escalating things by running his mouth. The bartender came over then and Sayed spoke gently to him to get the tab closed.

He stood at the bar now, hands shoved in his pants pockets, awkwardly waiting for his bank card to be returned to him so he could get out of there and away from the shifty acting shifter.

Any other night, maybe he might have snapped. But truly, he was drained dry of his will to do anything but sit in silence and wish he could set fire to the world. It was a healthier coping mechanism than murdering something outright. Maybe he would steal away into the woods later and find something that bled to kill.

The vampire was leaving, and just like he always did, Mathis let it get away.

And that was that, thankfully. Sayed's card was delivered and he signed the bill and promptly left. No need to stick around a place with a shifter who was so keen to talk about violence right off the bat.