by Mari LaRoche
Up close, his eyes were a pale blue, and he and Amir looked nothing alike.
Vivian glanced down at her lunch and nodded. They didn’t seem to like each other much. Perhaps they could reconcile, though it seemed unlikely at a chance meeting like this.
“Sure, Donal. Are you too short to pay for your own food?” Belying the slight edge in his voice, Amir indicated chairs to pull over rather than scooting over on his seat in the booth.
The creature settled three tables over. Viv waited to see if a server would approach it.
Nia retrieved two chairs from another table. The sleeve of her jacket shifted, revealing a bracelet braided from light hair. It shone against her wrist and raised Viv’s hackles. The unpleasant odor seemed to come from it, annoying and pervasive. What was going on? Her nose had never been that sensitive before.
Viv scooted to the side, and Nia angled her seat so she could see both the room and the table, her gaze traveling over all of the occupants before she seated herself. It looked similar to the sweeps of rooms that bodyguards did in movies Vivian had watched. The action contrasted with her appearance; her wide, dark eyes and delicate features and fixed frown made her appear a grouchy teenager.
Donal settled in one of the simple unpadded chairs. “Not at all. I can get dessert as an apology for interrupting your meal, Ms. Rivera.”
“You’ve met?” Amir inclined his head toward Vivian.
She nodded, then selected another slice of pita and dipped it in cucumber sauce. Viv snuck another glance at the creature and didn’t speak, not trusting her voice as anxiety swamped her. It hadn’t vanished; she hated it when hallucinations followed her through the day.
“Yes! I’m going to college here, and Ms. Rivera’s one of the librarians!” Donal’s enthusiasm raised Viv’s brows.
Unusual. Normally, students ranged from indifferent to bored.
“What a coincidence,” Nia spoke for the first time. Her dry tone attracted Vivian’s glance.
Curiosity pushed at her. “Are you a student, too?”
“Yes.” Nia stared at her, an intent gaze that Viv met despite a feeling of discomfort.
On closer inspection, Viv noted the young woman’s gaze was far older than they should be, wary and hard. The teenager pose was like a thin veil drawn over something else.
She beat the intuition down since it fueled the anxiety to greater heights. She wouldn’t break down here.
“Nia’s a woman of few words.” Donal smiled at Viv then transferred his smile to Nia, lifting her hand and kissing the knuckles.
Nia’s eyes narrowed as she stared back at him. It was not a loving expression.
What an odd couple.
The server stopped by the creature, but the young man didn’t seem nervous or upset to be serving it. The appearance was definitely a hallucination, then. Most likely, she was actually looking at a businessman or something. Viv dropped her eyes and busied herself with lunch. The familiar taste of lamb calmed her.
“I’ve heard the apple tree recovered from that frost a while back.” Donal reached across the table and helped himself to the plate of pitas, pulling one apart.
Viv blinked. It seemed an odd conversational gambit.
“It’s sturdy. You worry too much.” Amir shrugged.
They were speaking in some kind of code. Why would they do that? Glancing to the side, Viv caught Nia’s annoyed expression.
“Would you care to share with the rest of the class?” Nia asked pointedly. “What? I liked that tree. Very sweet apples, the best I’ve tasted.” Donal smiled. “Also, Brigit has come back to town to try to harvest some.”
His comment appeared to bother Amir, who drummed his fingers on the table. The name sent a chill down Viv’s spine, which was strange. She’d never reacted to the name like that before.
“Who’s Brigit?” Viv asked. She still felt cold.
“An older, distant relation.” Nia nibbled on a piece of gyro meat. “The kind you hope never visits you because they’re never satisfied, and they get mean about it. Brigit is the queen of nasty.”
That was more words than she’d spoken in the rest of the conversation. A few minutes later, a server dropped off an order of baklava. A segment of the sticky honey and nut concoction appeared on Nia’s plate almost before the dish hit the table.
Amir bit into a piece, returning his attention to Vivian. “What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Going to finish mounting and labeling the new specimens.”
“What of? Insects?” Donal asked.
“I collect minerals. It’s good exercise.”
His lively expression of interest brought a smile to her face, but her habitual awkwardness had already set in; she’d exhausted her ready store of small talk.
“But I do have to go.” She got to her feet, avoiding Amir’s questioning look. “You two catch up. Family’s important—you don’t know how much until you’ve lost it.”
She dropped enough cash for her half and hurried out. She didn’t like saying things like that, but she felt strongly about it. She could feel eyes on her as she exited. Creature, Donal, or Amir—she didn’t know. Unease quickened her pace.
While fighting traffic on her way home, worry nibbled. Too much strangeness all at once; labeling and then her evening run would settle it. Donal and Nia reminded her of something that made her sad though she couldn’t put her finger on what.
Viv saw her neighbor, Mrs. Coldwater, watching out the front window as she got out of the car. The elderly couple had put together an elaborate cat porch, shaded by trees, which both gave their cats shelter and provided Nuby endless hours of entertainment as he tried to intimidate the felines through his window.
The curtains fluttered, and Nuby and Bast waited for her to open the door. Vivian crouched and petted Nuby, running her hands through his silky fur while he pranced in joy at her return. Bast accepted one stroke then leaped onto the couch.
She’d gotten them both from a local rescue, and they embodied opposite reactions to finding a new home. The cat had never stopped being a bit standoffish while the dog lived for affection, displaying an unexpected fierce streak, his heart bigger than his body.
After they dashed away to opposite sides of the room, treats firmly in their mouths, Viv changed into shorts and a t-shirt and settled at the small table devoted to prepping her minerals.
She’d started collecting fluorescent minerals in addition to more commonplace minerals, and this latest batch still needed to be cleaned and mounted. She worked steadily, losing track of time, until she finished the last one and glanced at her phone. Later than she thought. She’d have to do her evening run in the dark. Another chance to see the stars if it remained clear.
Vivian started on her evening jog, opting to go right and head for the beach first. She waved at Mrs. Coldwater as she passed their house. All their animals were out on the catio, enjoying the fresh air.
The evening was cool, the sand empty of beachgoers and their plastic cups of beer. Moving kept her warm, and her muscles loosened. The repetitive sound of the surf combined with her movements to finish draining the anxiety of the day. She slowed her pace to a walk, watching the waves. The sea breeze washed over her, salty and fresh, chilling the sweat she’d built up. She’d need to start running again or she’d soon be shivering.
Picking up her pace, she breathed deeply. The residential street she turned onto was lined with mature magnolias. On the sidewalk rather than sand, she increased her speed and focused on counting her breaths and footfalls here on the home stretch.
Sudden weight hit her from the side, sending her sprawling in the grass, causing her ribs to throb and air to leave her lungs. A mass pressed her into the ground, and hands shifted, one pressing on her chest while the other covered her mouth and nose. The smell of leather assailed her senses.
She tried to scream. Dizzy and shaking, adrenaline flashing through her body like lightning, she bit down and tasted old leather. Her attacker pressed the ful
l weight of their body on her, trying to pin her.
Spots danced in front of her eyes as she fought to breathe. The pressure eased, her assailant grabbing a shoulder to roll her onto her stomach. She threw all of her strength into the roll, scrabbling away and trying to get to her feet. Back and shoulders protested, even through the adrenaline.
The moonlight revealed a male face, teeth bared in a grimace. He grabbed her arm, yanking her down again. The pain ignited anger as well as fear. Viv swung at his throat with crooked fingers, her hand filled with an ache as if it were burning. Curved, sharp claws burst from her fingertips. He gasped as the sharp bone tore his throat like paper.
Blood sprayed over her chest and face, the rank, heavy smell coating her nose and throat. He clutched his throat, rolling away from her. She scrambled to her feet and ran for home.
At the sight of her house and safety, reaction set in, constricting her chest. Her glance fell on her hand when she reached for the door: wet and red, blood caked under the claws. Her stomach heaved; the horror at the change in her body vied with the thought she might have seriously injured him. Worse, at the flash of satisfaction in her as the blood gushed.
Strained muscles and the blood on her hands argued the encounter wasn’t a hallucination. She’d left an injured man behind, and she needed to call the police.
How could she explain the claws? Perhaps they would go away when she calmed down? Why were they there?
Stepping inside, she slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, her legs trembling. The sense of something wrong kept growing, and she realized the kitchen light was on and neither Bast nor Nuby had come running to greet her.
Her phone should be charging on the table. It took a moment before she recognized the yeasty scent of beer, the smell making the moment even more surreal. With careful steps, Viv made her way to the kitchen. She liked beer, but she hadn’t touched the six-pack in the refrigerator in the past week.
Peeking around the corner from her living room into the dining area revealed an unfamiliar woman seated at her table, three empty beer bottles lined up in front of her. Her heavy, rounded body was barely covered by a loosely belted, ratty brown bathrobe. Dark, curly hair shifted over her shoulders as she took a swig from a fourth bottle, stared straight at Viv, and indicated the other chair.
“Have a seat. You look like you need it.” Her voice, low and raspy, sounded like a three-pack-per-day smoker.
Viv’s whole body shook. She glanced down at her hand, still clawed. The skin on her face was tightening as blood dried on it. Revulsion scattered her thoughts. She didn’t want to think anymore. Simple tasks: she needed her phone to call the police. She needed to find out why there was a stranger in her kitchen. "Who are you?"
"Your best friend, your worst enemy." The woman took another swallow of beer. Then, she leaned back, rocking the chair onto two legs. "Hi. It's been a while. Do you plan to stay alive this time?"
Vivian stiffened her back and walked to the table, picking up her phone. The night had gone beyond surreal. "Yes, I do plan to stay alive."
"Are you willing to take suggestions?"
The claws made holding the phone difficult. Blood on her fingertips interfered with unlocking the screen. "You haven't told me who you are."
"You wouldn’t believe me."
The claws pricked her palm when she tried to clench her free hand in frustration. Fear wrestled the anger, ready to pin it to the mat. "I'm finding myself more open to believing things right now."
The other woman shrugged. She shifted tidally in the chair, causing the tatty robe she wore to strain across her ample figure. She took another swig of beer. "I am Fate."
The phone wouldn’t unlock even after she input the code. Viv slumped into the other chair. She didn’t have a landline, and the thought of going back outside made her skin prickle. "Of course you are."
The forest of dark curls bounced as the woman across the table chuckled. "Yes, it is funny, isn't it?"
"And I am about to meet my fate?" Hysteria bubbled close to the surface, a giggle forcing itself out of Viv’s throat. She frowned at her bloody hand.
In the hall, claws scrabbled. Nuby, awakened by their voices, ran into the kitchen to Viv. She picked him up and settled him in her lap. He started licking the blood on her face and hands, and despite everything, it eased her nerves.
The other woman shook her head. A sad smile came and went on her full mouth, leaving her expression serious. "No, that happened a long time ago. This time around, we have more wiggle room. This time, I'm going to keep you alive even if it kills you."
The veins in Viv’s temples throbbed. She stared at the useless phone sitting on the table. "This time?” Her voice wobbled, and she firmed it. “Would it kill you to speak clearly?"
"Probably."
"Then what do you want to tell me? Why are you here?"
Fate waved her now-empty beer bottle in the air. "You should trust the guy who’s about to kick your back door in. Unless he's untrustworthy. Because giving a straight answer is something I can't do. It's against the rules."
Bast strolled in and jumped into Fate’s lap. She smoothed the Siamese’s fur, and the squeak of Bast’s purr filled the pause.
Viv stared. Bast never did that with strangers and had only done a few times with Viv. Of all the things that might have broken through the shock cemented around her, her cat cozying up to a stranger seemed trivial.
Vivian put her head in her free hand, painfully aware of the claws but needing the gesture. Nuby licked the other hand, and she realized unknown blood could be bad for him. She should clean up. "This is a terrible day."
"Oh, it'll get worse." Fate set the bottle down.
The sharp crack of something huge slamming into the front door launched Vivian from her chair. She spun around, cradling Nuby with splayed fingers to avoid scratching him, and saw the other woman had vanished, taking Bast with her, leaving only empty bottles on the table.
A hallucination? Where was Bast? No use to call the cat. Even if she were here, Bast would ignore Viv’s call.
Another house-rattling thump on the front door. Vivian had installed a security door years ago, at Amir’s suggestion. She backpedaled to the kitchen door, wishing she owned a gun…and knew how to shoot.
Nuby clamped to her side, she opened the door that led into the back yard, hoping the house wasn’t surrounded. Amir, hand raised to knock, his face set in grim lines, did a double take.
He grabbed her free arm. "We've got to get out of here." He didn’t comment on the bony claws in plain view.
She was glad enough for his presence not to object to being manhandled. She kicked the door shut behind her to cover her exit. The front door shuddered, and she bolted out of the house. Amir paced her as she darted to crouch behind her next-door neighbor’s catio. An old tree grew next to it, providing shade, and she huddled against its trunk. Peeking back, she saw short, thickset people move to the back of her house. The silhouettes of the intruders reminded her of the creature at the restaurant.
One kick opened her back door and they entered. Fear and anger mixed a toxic brew in her—she knew she should run, call the police, but they were in her house, among her belongings. She hated the thought of someone touching her things. The anger felt as if it came from deep within her, as if it weren’t her anger, and that fanned the fear. She didn’t want to have a break with reality if she could somehow avoid it.
"Where are we going?" She breathed the words as shadows, more than one, appeared in her kitchen window.
"To my place. We need to find you a place to hide."
3
Nuby wriggled, and Viv supported him with both hands, inhaling slow and deep. "I’ll go, but you’re going to tell me what is going on."
Amir tugged her back toward the Coldwaters’ house, crouched low.
She followed, gesturing toward her neighbor’s house.
Should we warn them? she mouthed.
Amir shook his head and beckoned
her away from the structure, expression tense. Viv paused at the corner of the house, straining to see what was happening in her home through the obscuring landscaping. The overwhelming anger welling from deep within her kept fighting with fear.
Amir tugged her sleeve, and they continued to the park entrance that lay beside the back of the Coldwater’s yard.
“What are those things? How do you know about this? Why are you here?” Viv breathed the questions out rapid-fire.
“Nothing you want to see closer. I'll explain later.” Amir’s soft voice folded into the night, barely audible as they paused at the park entrance to duck under the chain.
"I saw one at lunch today, closer than this. He didn’t do anything more dangerous than order a gyro.”
His brows rose. “You’re very perceptive; the illusions he would have been wearing fooled me. They’re called goblins and they’re very dangerous when ordered to be. We need to move fast.”
“I trust you. But I also want an explanation soon." Viv aimed her quiet words at Amir’s back. "Where are you parked?"
"By the other entrance. I came through the park."
Amir hadn’t let go of her arm. Once screened by trees, he began to jog. Nuby, patient up to this point, yipped at the motion, wriggling for a more comfortable position.
Behind them, she heard cracking and thumps, the noise lending wings to her feet. Amir let go of her arm and she ran for the other entrance, Nuby’s whimpered protests ignored as she clamped the little dog to her chest.
They reached the parking lot with Amir pointing to the car. "It's open. Get in. I'll handle this."
I think not. The voice rose from deep within her, and Viv gasped as her hands ached and spasmed.
Amir spun and ran toward their pursuers. Viv scooped Nuby and put him in the car, then followed, unsure why she was propelling herself toward the fight rather than the shelter Amir had indicated.