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Matchmaker(continued) "Tell me more about your artwork," said the werewolf, placing a paw on the yellow fairy's delicate hand. Her wings fluttered. "I mainly work with watercolors, although sometimes I do body art," she said. The werewolf's thick eyebrows raised above silver eyes. "Indeed? Maybe you could show me your work." "Oh, I don't know. I mean…" she trailed off, her yellow glow fading to an off white. Gotta find her a nicer guy, thought Marissa. She glanced over at the cherubic man. He still talked to the harpy, who now looked as if she were planning a meal with him as the appetizer. "The Uffizi Gallery is magnificent," he enthused. "As a gallery owner myself, I'm inspired by Italy." "Do you make enough money selling obscure, weird art?" asked the woman with a flap of her leathery wings. That's enough interrogation, thought Marissa. Out loud she said, "Pardon me, I…" The winged woman snapped her beaked face around. "What do you want?" she squawked with such vehemence that Marissa stepped back. "I'm looking for the bartender," she stammered. "Need to refresh my drink." The cherub jumped off his chair. "I'll help you with that," he said. As they walked down the bar, he whispered to Marissa, "Thank goodness you came along when you did. I was uncomfortable, but I'm just too nice a guy to say no." He waved the bartender over. "See that woman in the yellow dress?" Marissa nodded at the fairy who now squirmed under the werewolf's stare. "She's an artist." "Really? Always need new talent, I'll go talk to her." He handed another Seabreeze to Marissa. "Why is she talking to Brad?" "You know him?" "I went to college with him. The guy's a wolf." A thrill went through Marissa. Now she knew she was on the right track. The cherub finished his glass of Merlot and a mischievous grin dimpled his face. "Maybe I'll introduce Brad to my friend over there." Marissa glanced at the harpy and grinned. "They'd make a cute couple." She rejoined Dana and Lindsey, whose good moods were fading. "This is a waste of time," Dana mourned. An ear of corn fell from the wide sleeve of her dress. Marissa scanned the crowd of couples until she saw a man alone. He wore a soft velvet hat with a feather tucked into the brim and an Elizabethan doublet and pantaloons in dark blue. He sat at a small table and scratched a feather quill into parchment paper, a single white candle in a brass holder flickering before him. She nudged Dana. "You should talk to him." "He looks a little young." Dana squinted at the poet. If they're over eighteen, go for it, that's my philosophy," said Lindsey. Her mermaid's tail undulated. "At least one of us should get lucky." While Dana went over to the poet, dropping several slices of fresh-baked bread along the way to the delight of two quacking were-ducks, Marissa looked for Lindsey's match. As she was about to give up, she saw a man huddled at the corner of the bar, wearing a thick white sweater and a navy peacoat. He nursed a bottle of beer with a melancholy expression. Of course, a sea captain, she thought. "He's free," she said to Lindsey. She watched her coworker slide over to the man, feeling satisfied but also tired, ready to go home. Outside, she took care not to walk by the alley where two ogres bashed each other with their clubs. She pondered the situation; people's disguises held in the workplace, but came off when they relaxed. What would happen if people relaxed too much? Would they fight each other like the ogres? She watched an angel wrap his wings around a wailing wraith to comfort her. Or would they love each other more? When Marissa passed the café, she saw the monk on the bench. He read his old manuscript and smiled. Emboldened by her successes in the restaurant, she spoke to him. "Do you know Latin?" He raised his head and gazed at her with clouded eyes. "In another time and place when I wore another face," he said. "If you can still read it, maybe you could find some work at a genealogical society. Or a university." His eyes cleared, and he gave her a smile. "Bless you," he said. Marissa nodded. "It's no problem." "It might become a problem." He tapped his head with an ink-stained finger. "When the walls come tumbling down, will you still want to live in town? If you watch everything you see, then you will become like me. "She wavered for a moment, then hurried away. In her apartment, she watched television to drown out her anxieties. But the homeless man's warning followed her to bed. Restless, she lay awake.
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