How many would Berk need to kill? The guns, hidden under his jacket, seemed to be calling to him. He would use them soon enough. Most likely all the bullets would be spent within the next hour.

Berk eased his motorcycle toward The Famous Unicorn Creations Kitchen in Avalon Springs. The sun had started its downward trajectory, and within ninety minutes the sun would set. The descending sun cast long shadows from the trees and nearby buildings.

Berk got off the motorcycle, began to measure the restaurant, looking for weak spots. It was not a fortress by any means. His abilities came from a race of elves that no longer visited this dimension. He was only half elf. His elven insights allowed him to sense things that humans could not.

His elven talents told him he knew the person at the Famous Unicorn Creations Kitchen. Berk hoped he was wrong. He didn’t want to kill a friend, even if meant saving the universe.

The restaurant reminded Berk of a stilt house, or maybe a covered bridge, because of the way it was built over the railroad tracks. A staircase led up to a front door, and a second staircase on the other side of the building led up to a large balcony for outdoor dining. The restaurant was busy. Music played outside over speakers, a pop song Berk couldn’t name but also did not like. Several people were on the balcony eating pizza, calzones, breadsticks, drinking beer and laughing loudly.

Berk wished he could be so happy. But he knew something the humans most likely did not know. Berk knew that twenty-four hours ago this restaurant did not exist. The rainbow-colored letters in bright neon lights on the front of the restaurant appeared gaudy and simple, almost like a child had designed it.

His guns seemed to itch at his sides. Berk would unleash them soon enough. On a friend.

Berk removed his sunglasses. He brushed some bugs out of his thick beard, unzipped his jacket, which revealed the matching handguns. He didn’t mind open carrying here. He knew he was going to start shooting in a few minutes. The guns were loaded with silver bullets.

He stood calmly by his bike, fully taking in the restaurant. He searched for the lookouts in the form of humans, gargoyles, invisible spirits, other supernatural defenses. He sensed none. What he did sense was a friend. Was this a trick? No one that Berk called friend would be interested in destroying the world.

Berk hoped he was wrong.

Maybe this wasn’t a friend.

Maybe.

He knew it was wishful thinking, no matter how much he wrestled with it.

Berk took a deep breath, exhaled, and started up the front steps of the restaurant. At the top of the steps a 17-year-old girl with braces smiled wide him. She was wearing blue jeans, and a white shirt. The white shirt had Famous Unicorn Creations Kitchen printed on the front of the shirt. The name tag on her shirt read: Megan.

"Hello and welcome to Famous Unicorn Creations Kitchen," Megan said. "Are you here for dine-in or carryout?"

"Any beer specials?" Berk asked.

"We certainly do," Megan said. "We have two-dollar Domestic pints. There's currently not a wait time at the bar. We have about a 15-minute wait for our dining room. And a 35- to 45-minute wait for our balcony seating."

"I'll take a seat at the bar."

"Head right on it."

Megan opened the door for Berk and he walked inside the Famous Unicorn Creations Kitchen. The outside looked like it had been designed by a child. The inside appeared to be a typical family style bar and grill. He smelled pizza, beer, and hot wings.

Berk walked up to the bar, sat on a stool. There were a few other bar patrons, but most of the barstools were unoccupied. About half of the bar tables were empty. Based on the crowded balcony, Berk guessed most people wanted to enjoy the unusually cool North Carolina evening. Most days this place probably would have been packed.

Instead nearly every table on the balcony was packed.

What am I thinking? Berk shook his head. Most days this place would be packed? It didn’t even exist yesterday.

Two TVs in the bar area, one TV was showing a pro baseball game, another TV showed a pro basketball game. No one in the bar area seemed to be paying attention to the games.

Behind the bar were two women, both attractive, both seemed to be in their late thirties or possibly early forties. One redhead, one brunette.

The redhead wore blue jeans, black boots, and a white T-shirt with Famous Unicorn Creations Kitchen printed on the front. She had curly red hair, hazel eyes, deep red lipstick, and a great smile. Berk considered her to be the prototype woman you would want to be a bartender because she could draw customers to the bar just to sit and drink, just to be around her. But Berk was not lonely, he was not here to flirt. The redhead, according to her name tag, was Nicole.

Nicole was human. Berk was not interested in speaking to Nicole.

The other woman behind the bar drew most of Berk's attention. She was slightly taller than Nicole, wearing blue jeans, black boots, and a short sleeve black button shirt. The shirt was tucked in. She did not have a name tag. She had long, silky brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a big beautiful smile. She was not wearing a name tag. Different shirt, no nametag. Berk guess the brunette was either a manager, or the owner.

Berk’s elven senses told him the brunette was NOT human.

The brunette was confident. She made drinks behind the bar, but also paid attention to other tables in the bar area, kept a casual eye on tables on the balcony, and gave the occasional sweeping glance over the dining room. She was definitely either a manager or the owner. Either way, the brunette was who Berk wanted to talk to first.

She was Berk’s friend.

But he did not recognize her face.

Could he put a couple bullets in her head? He wasn’t sure.

"Hello," Berk said.

"Hello,” said the brunette, meeting his eyes. She smiled warmly. Nothing sinister about her smile. Nothing that said she was trying to destroy life on the planet. “Welcome to Famous Unicorn Creations Kitchen. What can I get started for you? We have two-dollar pints."

"You the owner?"

She nodded. Her smile faded somewhat, her eyes narrowed.

Yep. This is the source of the issue. Berk knew it. He didn’t recognize her, but he’d also met her before. He knew her. Somehow. A friend.

His guns were ready. He wondered how fast he could put two bullets in her forehead. Needed to be fast. The brunette was messing with the timeline and...

... wait ...

... Berk came to a new conclusion.

The new conclusion could be worse. He decided to investigate.

"So are you expecting to be a one-man party tonight?" asked the mysterious brunette. "Just curious how long you've been in business here?" Berk said. "Well, this isn't my first rodeo, as they say."

"You know why I'm here?"

"Of course. Plus, you’re a little bit lighter than you were when you walked through the front door."

Shit.

Berk casually shifted his arm, realized his left gun holster was empty. As was his right holster. And the large knife strapped behind his back. Gone. And the revolver tucked in his boot.

Nicole was busy making drinks, talking to the few customers who were at the bar. No one listened to Berk or the brunette.

"Would you like a drink?" asked of the brunette with all the confidence of a snake preparing to destroy a mouse.

"Maybe. Can you tell me how this night’s going to end?”

“Don't worry." She gave a broad smile. "I'm not going to kill you."

“Are you here to take over the world?”

“Ha! You people wish.” The brunette stood directly in front of Berk, still smiling, leaned on the bar to speak to him. “My goal is to offer the planet a bright spot. That’s all.”

“That’s it?”

“You know who I am?”

“I think so.”

“Then you know something went wrong. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You tried to play god and fucked it up.”

“There was a convergence error.”

“You fucked it up.”

The woman shrugged, smiled. “It is what it is.” She grabbed a cold pint glass from behind the bar, filled it with Sam Adams from the tap, plopped the pint in front of Berk. The small pint glass looked almost comical in front of such a big man. "Here you go, on the house." Berk looked at the pint. He took a drink.

"What is your name?" Berk asked.

"Mena Fry Galo," The brunette said, she flipped her silky brown hair, winked at him.

“Still playing the name game.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. All I want is sleep. Rest.”

“How bad is it?”

"You came on a good day.” She winked. “I hope you’re ready for it.”

“How bad?”

“Drink your beer.”

“... that bad ...”