by Daniel Xiao Wang

Created on: January 19, 2010

The night was cool and there was an excitement in the air as I came out of the little hallway between the coffee shop and a neighboring restaurant.  Business was getting busy, never a good thing.  How is it that in this little, backwards, insignificant town so much rested on the shoulders of so few?  Why did the powers that be even care about this place?

If I was going to find any answers it would be here.  This was the one place where “the few” were drawn.  But I had also learned long ago that that also meant the Watchers and Liliam spent a fair amount of time here.

And the real victor in all of this?  Mishal, the coffee shop's proprietor.  The hunters and their prey, or the prey and their hunters depending on how you looked at it, both spent money to drown themselves in the sweet nectar of life- coffee. This really wasn't the type of industry that one would expect to drive local business, but that was just another irony of life. 

The music was well under way, a large crowd gathered outside the shop to enjoy the music and company.  A low hum of conversation blanketed the area, and the air was filled with the sweet perfume of cigaret smoke.  I both hated and loved that smell, not a smoker myself I had always associated the cigaret smoke with coffee, it was a Pavlovian thing I mused.

I walked passed the crowds of people and opened the glass door into the coffee shop.  The sights and smells that I loved assailed me, I was home!  But, I had to remind myself, I was on a mission.

Mishal was working the counter and a large smile spread across his face upon my entry.  I waited in the long line at the counter and looked across the room.  The entire place was crowded, apparently those looking to escape the live music for more intimate conversation. 

I was disappointed to find that Matteo, Trev, and Kevin were all absent.  While I would have been delighted to see Wixler, Big Bear Brian or Kate here I knew that they were long gone.  I saw to it myself that they were gone, and still my dreams are haunted by their absence.  Even thinking about it now while in line, remembering how we all sat at that table there, and that one, and really probably every table in this place- the pain was physical. 

I was on a mission.

There were two tales in the entire shop that were vacant, before the large window at the front of the store, and right next to each other.  Both tables

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