Had someone just slapped her hand away? Jade didn’t even have time to wonder, as the flying cutlery commanded all her attention. Ducking down behind the counter with her arms covering her head, she considered her chances of reaching the door – and the stairs behind it, which led up to her room and, hopefully, to safety.
But she didn’t get much of a chance. In an instant, the bar area’s drawers and cabinet doors began to open and slam shut in quick and noisy succession. The dishwasher bleeped, the till rattled and sputtered, and the glasses in the overhead racks clinked and chinked ominously while the ceiling lamps flickered on and off.
Strangely, though, there was no clatter of falling knives and forks. And yet, she had clearly seen a few dozen of each hurtle towards her. A stainless steel swarm on an outraged intercept mission.
Suddenly, the room went quiet. Cowering in the dark, Jade took a few deep breaths and rose to her feet.
A mere twenty seconds later she had convinced herself that she had imagined the whole thing. A hallucination, no doubt. She’d never had one before, and experiencing one now probably wasn’t a good sign – but was it a reason to forgo a promising haul? Maybe she was just a bit light-headed after her recent bout of fever.
It would be a shame to leave empty-handed. The biscuit barrel, the condiment trays and lost-and-found basket were likely laden with treasure – plenty of goodies that would come in handy when she next hit the road. And, first and foremost, the tip jar was beckoning in its rich glory, fat silver coins and the odd folded note clearly visible among the small change.
Again she reached out.
No slap this time. Just a voice speaking directly into her ear, low yet clear, so real that she could even feel the speaker’s breath on her neck.
“La drache,” the voice moaned. “La draaaaaaache!”
She spun around, horrified that someone had approached so closely and berating herself for not having noticed. When she realised no one was there, she was strangely relieved.
The reprieve turned out to be short-lived. Instead of another resident – Mirko, heaven forbid – glowering nearby, she saw a formation of furious flatware pop into existence, apparently from thin air.
Every one of the assorted implements was directed at her head. For an instant, they just hung there pointedly, tips and tines bristling. And then, all at once, they accelerated from standing to supersonic and flew.
Luckily, she had taken the hint and dropped to the floor. As she crouched down, she found herself enveloped in a fine drizzle, which soon developed into pouring rain. Jade pinched herself to ensure she was actually awake. No doubt about it; this entire episode was as real as a ranting stranger on a night bus.
Trying to escape the downpour turned out to be pointless. It covered a radius of no more than a metre, but it followed her around the room, leaving puddles and rivulets on the tavern’s wooden floor.
Maybe it would stop if she left the room? Jade headed for the door, which was now firmly locked. The key bobbed in the air, just out of her reach. Whenever she moved closer, something yanked it away.
***
“I see you’ve met Ladrache?” Adelphine found Jade sitting cross-legged under her personal cloudburst when she opened the bar bright and early the following morning. The espresso machine needed a while to warm up, and it never hurt to pop round before the bar staff arrived to make sure early customers wouldn’t have to wait.
“What on earth was that?” Soaked, saucer-eyed and subdued, Jade was still reeling from the night’s terrors.
“Our resident poltergeist. He doesn’t like intruders.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jade replied. At this stage, she was beyond surprise… A poltergeist, a flying carpet, a flock of sarcastic pink unicorns? Who cared, just so long as she didn’t get herself kicked out before she was ready.
“What brought you down here?”
“I was… thirsty.”
Sure you were, Adelphine thought.
“I thought I’d left bottles of water and juice in your room,” is what she replied. “Have you run out?”
“I fancied a soda.”
Adelphine gave her sidelong glance, then gestured towards the open door.
“Go put on dry clothes, then come back to help me clean up this mess.” She could have tidied the room with a mere flick of her wand, but she couldn’t risk Jade wondering about her uncanny housekeeping skills – and anyway, she had a point to make.
The rain stopped on the threshold. Jade dripped her way up the stairs and into her room, and ten minutes later slunk all the way back down to make herself useful.
While she was away, Adelphine thanked Ladrache.
”Well played, old friend!”
Above her head, the glasses whistled softly, as if someone had blown over their rims. Adelphine laughed.
“Yes, I know… Thanks for not smashing the stemware this time. It’s hard to replace at short notice.”
“Draaaaache,” came the whispered reply.
“You’re right – we’ll have to keep an eye on this one.”
In response, the front door opened wide and slammed shut.
“Oh no, I think she has potential. Anyway, Zina brought her in, so she gets the benefit of the doubt. But yes, just now she’s a nuisance. Let’s see how this plays out.”
La drache… Contrary to a widespread misconception, it doesn’t actually rain all the time in Belgium. But we do indeed get plenty of rain, in varying degrees of intensity. And when it’s really bucketing down, we call it a ‘drache’. If the downpour occurs on our National Day and spoils the traditional military parade, it is affectionately known as the ‘drache nationale’. NB: If the liquid involved is beer running from a tap rather than water falling from the sky, you’re probably in a bar, where you may well hear the term used to order a fresh round: “Remets-nous une drache!”