Silly wager with Adelphine, who says all I ever do around here is drink coffee and try to keep the hair out of my face. When of course we all know that all madame ever does around here is scowl at people she can’t avoid.
We must have had this conversation about fifty thousand times over the centuries; her taunts don’t even deserve an answer. I guess she’s simply bored and spoiling for a fight.
But – you know. Just out of interest. For scientific accuracy. Facts matter.
So here’s an account of a random day. She’ll be writing one as well. Oakleaf, Ingrid and Azélie get to decide who has the busier day, and the loser has to stand in for the winner for a whole weekend.
Obviously, they’ll vote in my favour, no doubt about it. I can’t cook and they know it.
***
6:45:00 Wake-up yowls from Minuit. Tapped his head to snooze him for 15 minutes.
7:00:01 Minuit is clawing the furniture. Why have I told him to ignore voice commands when he’s in alarm clock mode?
7:04:45 And why have I told him to make sure he’s out of my reach until I’m up and wide awake?
7:04:50 Reminder from Minuit: He’s due to throw up on the carpet unless I rub his chin within the coming ten seconds.
7:04:57 Crisis averted. I really need to change his settings. Will add it to my list.
7:04:58 (Note to self: How does a cybernetic cat that isn’t designed to eat throw up on the carpet? I mean, what’s to throw?)
7:45 Check on the tavern (all’s well). Check night watch report (all’s well). Check messages. Mostly routine, but the werewolf elder has written to say that Eric’s ceremony must be held in the woods, at the first light of dawn after a full moon. With the patient present and at least five weres attending. How is that meant to work? They’ll be activated, which is bad enough, but there’s no getting them to do anything useful when they’re in that state.
8:15 Breakfast with Adelphine. Three main topics – Eric, the social media team, and my general inadequacy:
- The vitamin D and activated charcoal combo is beginning to work: Eric has started to shed, his snout is retreating and he seems aware of what’s going on. That said, the transformation so far is patchy, and he isn’t touching his food.
- The social media team is chipping away at the review bomb problem. Factual, constructive replies to every negative review. All major platforms contacted with requests to remove obvious nuisance posts. Public statement posted explaining the sabotage attempt, thanking our regulars for sticking with us and offering the first 100 customers a fun freebie.
- < sigh >
8:47 Flashes of blue light spotted coming from the warehouse cellar. Upon investigation it turns out that Chlurp is testing a faster method to produce hollow bricks with his antimatter jets. As I walk into his workshop I find him trying to conceal damage to a load-bearing wall: apparently he hasn’t yet solved the slight problem of the antimatter dissolving the nozzles it is sprayed through, and they’ve gone a bit rogue. Have told him to stop; we have more fake masonry than anyone needs.
9:15 Called the were elder. She reminds me that werewolves are just about sane while they’re morphing. We’ll get a window of 15 minutes or so where they’re still able to howl but no longer driven solely by instinct. And she says she has a way of snapping out of were half an hour early so she can lead the ceremony. I asked her how, but she wasn’t saying. Carefully guarded were secret apparently, dangerous even to those in the know.
9:45 Called Ingrid to update her. We’ll need volunteers, both were and moon-stable. Ingrid can’t be there herself – she’ll have gone squirrel and won’t want to be near anyone with sharp fangs and limited impulse control. But she’ll continue to help with the prep and is calling a REVIENS meeting for this evening to discuss the transport, restraints and so on. We can’t have half a dozen activated werewolves on the loose in Forêt de Soignes while we’re waiting for the sun to rise.
10:45 Paperwork. Bills, accounts, sorting out bar staff shifts to suit everyone’s convoluted preferences. And I really need to reorganise my to do list, to make sure that the important tasks aren’t continually upstaged by life’s endless stream of emergencies. I’ve been meaning to transcribe my notes from my conversations with Voltaire for 300 years, but there’s always some fresh crisis that needs sorting out first.
11:45 Dropped by the vampire table at the warehouse café, to catch the early birds among them over breakfast. We’ll need all the muscle we can muster to deal with the werewolf outing, plus a full security detail to keep an eye on the alley while we’re away. I’ve asked them to check with the wider fly-by-night community to bring in a few volunteers.
12:12 Urgent message from a vampire travel agency seeking traditional lodgings for a group of ancients whose caskets are stuck on some plane. Luckily, our coffin cellar is free – most of our resident undead prefer modern bedrooms, ideally with an en-suite. I set out the room rates and the two binding rules: no getting us noticed, and no bloodsucking on or off premises throughout the entire duration of their stay.
12:30 Checked in on Eric. Human hands on hairy wolf limbs are not a good look, and feet with a random arrangement of claws and toes aren’t easy on the eye. On the plus side, he wasn’t snarling, and he seemed to listen as I explained what’s going on. Shoved a laden tray through the cat flap and asked if he needed anything else. In response, he pointed to the huge serving of food and mimed two fingers down his throat.
[Things heat up in the afternoon – check for part 2 on Thursday!]