This Broken Wondrous World by Jon Skovron

should all meet up after The Show.”
    â€œWith Liel,” I said.
    â€œOh, really?” said Claire. Then she slowly smiled, and it was not a nice smile. “Excellent.”
    â€œUm, why are you happy about this?” I asked.
    â€œI have been waiting for a long time to give that slag a piece of my mind. She was smart enough to avoid me the last time I was here. I guess she’s gotten cocky. Thinks she can handle me now. She has no idea.”
    â€œCan we please not start a brawl on our first night back home?”
    She hooked my chin with her finger, leaned in, and gave me a quick kiss. “I make no promises, sweetie.”

    THE CANTINA WAS really just the mezzanine lobby bar. Still, it was the most popular place for company members to hang out after The Show. And for people who didn’t look human enough to pass, the lobby was the closest they could get to leaving the theater.
    When Henri, Claire, and I showed up, we were greeted immediately by a dryad nymph.
    â€œBoy, welcome back! We have a table waiting for you. Right this way.”
    We followed her over to the large corner booth. This was where the cool kids usually hung out. Before I left The Show, I wouldn’t have even rated a hello from a dryad, much less thecorner booth. And when I’d come back the first time, Vi version one had temporarily turned all the dryads into mindless killing machines who had attacked me and I’d basically had to beat the crap out of them. So I was surprised that this one was being so friendly. Of course, it was probably Liel’s doing. She’d always been pretty tight with the dryads.
    â€œLiel and Bakru will probably be here in a bit,” said the dryad. “They said go ahead and get started without them. Here’s the specials for tonight. Someone will be by in a minute to take your order.” She handed me a handwritten drink menu.
    â€œThanks, uh . . .”
    I’d never really been able to tell the dryads apart. They all looked more or less the same, like a group of stereotypical Hollywood models who’d all used the same plastic surgeon. And they didn’t really have distinct personalities, as far as I could tell.
    â€œSequoia.” She smiled her Hollywood actress smile.
    â€œSorry,” I muttered.
    â€œIt’s totally fine. Happens all the time. You just need to get to know us better.” Then she turned and headed back to the bar.
    As soon as she was out of earshot, Henri said, “
I
would like to get to know her better.”
    â€œKeep it in your pants, Frankenstein,” said Claire.
    â€œShe was a nymph, yes?”
    â€œA dryad,” I said. “A forest nymph. They run the bar for the audience before The Show and during the intermission, and then they open it back up for monsters once all the humans are gone. Individually, they’re not real bright. But they have a sort of hive mind or collective consciousness, like bees or ants, which makes them really efficient at things like serving drinks to a large number of people in a short amount of time.”
    â€œShe is absolutely gorgeous,” said Henri admiringly.
    â€œWho is?” asked another dryad now standing at our table, this one with a ponytail.
    Henri didn’t skip a beat. “Why, you, of course.”
    â€œMe?” Her eyes widened. “You really think so?”
    â€œThink so? I
know
so! I’ve never seen such perfection in the female form before in my life.”
    She stared at him like there was suddenly nothing else in the room that mattered.
    â€œWeeeell,” said Claire. “I don’t know about you lads, but I’m awful thirsty.”
    â€œOh, right.” The dryad smiled but it seemed a little forced now. “What can I get you all?”
    â€œI’ll have a cider,” said Claire.
    â€œRed wine for me,” said Henri.
    â€œUh, we can have alcohol?” I asked.
    â€œYou bet,” said the