She turned the tap, but only a sad dribble of beer appeared.
“Oh, shit.” Val turned to Enzo. “Isn’t this our last keg?”
“It’s gone already? Feels like I fetched it two minutes ago!” Enzo protested.
Val grimaced. “Yuka and Blair should be here any minute. I can fill these three, but the foam won’t be the same.”
Enzo grabbed a jug from the shelves. “I’ll make that happen. You call Yuka and find out where they are. We need that delivery now!”
Val set the tray on the dishwasher and stepped into the tiny office behind the bar to make the call. With the door closed, the quiet was soothing. She thought about the underground smithy at home in Bay Ridge, and longing flooded her.
No time for that now. She dialed Yuka Marniq’s number and raised the phone to her ear.
Yuka answered quickly. “Hey, Val! Let me guess. You’re out of beer?”
“You got it. Are you guys far out?” Val asked.
Distantly, Yuka’s partner Blair asked, “They’re out again?”
Yuka laughed. “Blair’s shocked that you’ve finished the beer.”
“Girl, people love that IPA. Enzo’s serving our last few drops as we speak,” Val told her.
“Don’t worry. We’re turning onto the plaza now,” Yuka assured her to the background grumble of a truck engine. “Meet us at the back door.”
“Perfect timing.” Val hung up and popped her head through the office door. “They’re here, Enzo!”
“Help them unload. Jeff!” Enzo barked. “I need a hand behind the bar.”
Their bouncer, an amiable human, shoved through the crowd and joined Enzo in serving drinks. Val left them to it and passed through the back door into the crisp night. The last echo of winter hung in the air and traced frigid fingertips over the windows and gutters, leaving a sprinkling of frost.
Val regretted leaving her coat inside. The plaza was quiet, apart from the steady stream of people entering and exiting the bar. A homeless person huddled on a bench near the statue of George Washington, whoever he had been, in the middle of the plaza. Two rough-looking kids kicked a can down the street. A guy smoking on the corner eyed Val. She gently caressed the dagger's hilt on her hip, and he hastily looked away.
The Anvil Brewery truck came around the corner with a sputter of diesel fumes. Its black paintwork gleamed under the streetlights, and a locked rolling door hid the bounty within. Only Val and other paras could see its second set of plates, which shimmered ethereal blue. The plates came from Avalon Town. The white Anvil logo was splashed across the hood and both doors.
With a hiss of air brakes, the truck halted a few feet from Val. “Not a moment too soon,” she called.
A Copper Dwarf, red hair and matching beard stylishly trimmed, swung down from the driver’s seat. His head barely reached Val’s ribs. “You’ve got a lot of thirsty people in there.”
“They all love Anvil beer, too.” Val grinned. “You look exhausted, Blair.”
He grimaced. “Drove all over the city today, delivering last-minute kegs when bars ran out. Apparently, your patrons aren’t the only ones who love our beer.”
“Who can blame them?” Yuka hopped down from her seat with surprising agility, considering she was several inches shorter than Blair. She slammed the passenger door. Her emerald-green hair was almost hidden under a baseball cap.
“I don’t.” Val grinned. “Thanks, guys. I know it’s late.”
“Anything to keep our customers’ customers happy.” Blair winked. “Let’s unload this lot.”
He opened the back of the truck, and Val grabbed a keg in each hand and stomped into the bar with it. The two dwarves followed, each balancing a keg on their shoulders.
“Love the truck, by the way.” Val set the keg down behind the bar.
Yuka waved at Enzo, who was too busy taking orders to the bar to notice. “It’s great.”
“Anvil must be doing well,” Val observed as they went outside.
Blair beamed. “We are, and we largely owe that to the Iron Fist. Since the Anvil Brewery evening you hosted, orders are streaming in from Avalon and Earth alike.”
“I reckon our guest the other night had something to do with that.” Val hoisted two more kegs.
“I can’t believe the queen drank our beer.” Yuka had stars in her eyes. “The queen!”
“I didn’t think she was a beer girl,” Val confessed.
Blair chuckled. “I don’t think anyone did, but I disagree with Yuka.”
“This again.” Yuka rolled her eyes.
“No one saw the queen there except us, and we didn’t post about it on Parabook.” Blair folded his arms. “Nadia Stewart was the one who popularized our beer.”
“Her endorsement didn’t hurt, but I’m telling you, the queen did something,” Yuka insisted, hauling a keg onto her shoulder. “She’s amazing like that.”
“She saved the world, Yuka. I don’t think her marketing skills were required,” Blair grumbled.
Yuka glared at him as they returned to the bar, so Val decided it was time for a change of subject. “What’s under that new truck’s hood? I heard diesel when you drove in, but that won’t run in Avalon.”
“Oh, it’s a hybrid like Genevieve. It’s got a magic battery in it, too,” Blair told her. “Cost a fortune.”
