by Chant, Zoe
And then there was Grandma’s necklace. Dali had exactly one week to get it back before their next dinner, when she’d have to confess what had happened to it. But who could help her retrieve it when the police weren’t willing to help her and she wasn’t willing to call her Navy buddies?
That was when she realized that she could leverage one problem to solve another.
Tirzah and Pete both worked at Protection, Inc: Defenders, a private security agency. Pete was a bodyguard and Tirzah did cyber security. Tirzah was smart as a whip, and Pete was a veteran Marine. Dali didn’t know much about the agency and had never been to the office, but if they both worked there, it had to be good.
Instead of going home to the apartment building, Dali could go straight to the Defenders office and ask for help retrieving her necklace and protecting her kitten. She’d take Cloud with her, so both her neighbors and Cloud would be safe, and Dali could prove to the Defenders that the kitten was real.
There was no feeling quite so satisfying as that of taking a complicated mess and creating order out of it. She hadn’t felt this good since... well, since she’d been in the Navy, where she did that every day.
Smiling to herself, she took out her phone and looked up the address of Protection, Inc: Defenders. Then she took the subway, keeping her right hand firmly on Cloud inside her purse. The dragonfly kitten was curled up and seemed to have dozed off, to Dali’s relief.
She emerged from the subway station and blinked in the bright morning sunlight. The subway had dropped her off right in front of the Defenders office, but the first thing that caught her eye wasn’t the building, but the gigantic billboard beside it. Swooping crimson letters accented with gold announced:
THE FABULOUS FLYING CHAMELEONS!
World-famous circus on a special US tour!
The rest of the billboard was crammed with iconic circus images: seals balancing balls on their noses, lions leaping through hoops, trapeze artists flying through the air in spangled leotards, a ringmaster with an immense curled moustache, a clown juggling teacups with a cat perched on his head, and more. Much more. So much more that it made her feel slightly dizzy.
The poster was old-fashioned, but it brimmed with playfulness and joy. Everyone looked so happy, even the animals. Maybe especially the animals. Dali had never been to the circus, but looking at the poster made her want to go. Maybe once she got the necklace back, she’d buy two tickets and take her grandmother. It would be nice to have some fun for a change.
She took the elevator up to the Defenders lobby and rang the doorbell. There was no answer. She turned the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, but it opened. She stepped inside. And tripped over something directly in front of the door.
Normally, she’d have thrown out both arms to keep her balance. But her right hand was inside her purse with Cloud. Dali staggered, her left arm flailing.
A hand shot out and caught her by the shoulder. “Easy.”
She looked up into the angular, unsmiling face of a tall man with auburn hair. The instant she’d caught her balance, he released her and stepped backward. Fascinated, she watched him step neatly over the thing she’d tripped over—some weird contraption involving a box, a lever, a mass of tangled string, and a carrot—without first looking to see where she’d kicked it.
“Merlin’s not here yet,” the man said. “Give him a couple more minutes.”
Who was Merlin? Puzzled, Dali said, “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
“No,” he said. “I haven’t.” And with that mysterious statement, he walked out the door, leaving her alone.
Who was that guy? He’d looked more like a college professor than a bodyguard. And what in the world had he been talking about?
Dali looked around the lobby in baffled annoyance. This was the office of a respected private security agency? Where was the receptionist? Where was the office manager?
Where was the cleaner? The coffee table was stacked with files and papers, plus a half-drunk cup of coffee and a paper plate with half a bagel—not a bagel sliced in half, either, but one with teeth marks. There was a circuit board on the sofa, not to mention the box-and-string thing in the middle of the floor.
Most bizarre of all, a wire live trap was stuck halfway out a window, baited with a strip of bacon, a whole egg, an oozing chunk of honeycomb, and a plastic cup half-full of what could only be Kool-Aid.
Dali stared at the trap for a long moment, unable to believe her eyes. What in the world were they trying to catch? It was too small for raccoons or possums, but too big for mice and rats. And what kind of animal drinks Kool-Aid?
This complete shambles of a workplace couldn’t help her. If anything, it needed to be rescued from itself.
Dali turned to leave, with no idea of where she was going to other than away.
That was when Cloud leaped out of her purse, her dragonfly wings buzzing madly, and made a beeline for the bacon.
“No!” Dali yelled.
But she was too late. The door of the trap slammed shut.
CHAPTER 2
“I just want to get some coffee before I go to work,” Merlin said. “That’s a totally normal thing! It shouldn’t be this difficult!”
The normal flow of sidewalk traffic abruptly broke up as everyone within hearing distance of Merlin edged away. Oops. He hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
“I love my new... tiny... earpiece phone!” Merlin said for their benefit. “You can’t even see it’s there!”
Traffic resumed. Merlin, reminding himself not to move his lips this time, sternly addressed his inner raptor. We’re getting some coffee, then we’re going to work. No arguments!
His inner raptor bounced up and down like a toddler having a sugar rush on a trampoline. Offices are boring. Let’s run into the middle of the street and play in traffic!
Merlin actually took a step toward the street before he regained control of his body. Determinedly, he veered into the Starbucks and took his place in line.
A few people glanced at him, making him tense until they looked away. For the millionth time since he’d been experimented on and given the power to make people see him as whoever they expected to see, he wished he had control over it. Or at least that he could tell when it was operating. As it was, he had no idea if his power was off and they’d perceived him as a customer in line at Starbucks because that was what he was, or if his power was on and they’d perceived him as a Starbucks customer because that was what they expected to see inside a Starbucks.
At least it only worked on people who didn’t already know him. If he risked being perceived as a client or an enemy or God knows what every time he went into the office, he’d lose his mind.
“Ark ark ark!”
For the briefest of instants, his heart leaped at the thought that when he looked down, he’d find a tiny seal at his feet. He could see it already: an adorable mini-seal that would swim in his sink and bathtub and—
Merlin looked down, and saw a small boy making seal noises and playing with a plastic figurine of a seal balancing a ball on its nose.
Maybe it’s a magical plastic seal that’ll come to life, suggested his raptor.
I don’t think so, Merlin replied silently. And even if it was, it’d be the kid’s pet, not mine.
The boy’s mother shot Merlin an embarrassed glance. “I hope he’s not bothering you.”
“Not at all,” said Merlin.
The boy took out another figurine, this one of a lion. In a growly lion voice, he said, “Grrr! Grrr! I’m going to eat you up!” Then, in a barking seal voice, he replied, “Ark! Ark! Not in front of the audience! They’ll be traumatized!”
Merlin and the boy’s mother exchanged amused glances.
“He’s got a great vocabulary for his age,” said Merlin.
“Oh, yes, he’s very bright,” replied his mother.
The boy glanced up. To Merlin, he said, “I’m going to join the circus some day. I’ll be a seal trainer and a lion trainer
and an elephant trainer!”
“You could join Cirque du Soliel as an acrobat,” his mother said encouragingly. “But circuses nowadays don’t have animals.”
“A few of them still do,” said Merlin. “I was raised in a circus—”
“You were in the circus?” said the boy, awestruck. “Were you a seal trainer?”
“No, the seals trained themselves,” said Merlin. As the boy’s mother placed their order, he went on, “I did odd jobs, whatever needed to be done. Sometimes I drove the clown car, sometimes I cleaned the lion cage, sometimes—”
“Were you a lion trainer?” the boy interrupted.
“No, the lions trained themselves.”
“Were you an elephant trainer?”
“We only had one elephant, and she trained herself,” said Merlin apologetically. “But I did hold tiny little hoops for the flying squirrels to fly through when they did their aerial act.”
“Oh.” The boy thought that over, then gave a satisfied nod. “I could do that.”
His mother, now with their drinks in hand, smiled at Merlin. “Thank you so much for entertaining him. Are you a writer? You’re so imaginative!”
“No, I’m a bodyguard. But I really was raised in a circus.”
The boy’s mother gave him a wink, clearly not believing a word he said. “Of course you were. Noah, say goodbye to the nice storytelling man.”
“Bye, flying squirrel hoop bodyguard,” called the boy.
Merlin watched them leave, a little wistfully. It was nice to have someone believe him, for once, even if that someone was four years old. None of his teammates ever believed his circus stories.
He approached the counter, trying to decide whether he wanted a cappuccino or a latte.
Coffee is boring, said his raptor. Buy a bottle of hazelnut syrup and drink it all, all, ALL!
“Haz—uh—” Merlin was too distracted by stopping himself from ordering a bottle of syrup to register the way the barista was staring at him. By the time he caught her expression of righteous fury, it was too late.
She hurled the contents of the venti coffee cup in her hand, drenching him in some sticky pink concoction, then slapped him across the face. “YOU! I knew you’d come here some day, you... you toad!”
It was apparently going to be one of those days. At least now he knew that his power was on. The boy and the woman in line had expected to see a Starbucks customer, and that was what they’d seen. Unfortunately for Merlin, it seemed like the barista had expected to see someone she didn’t like. From her reaction, she’d been dreading seeing someone for quite some time.
“Right,” Merlin said, backing out of slapping range. “But I’ll never come back again.” He was about to leave when curiosity got the better of him. Who did she think he was? Experimentally, he said, “I’m a terrible person.”
“You are!” yelled the barista. “And a cheater!”
Ah-ha, Merlin thought. She expected to see her evil ex.
“Are you ever going to give me back my sofa, you horrible cheating THIEF?” screamed the barista.
Yes, yes he will, said his raptor. Because we’ll make him!
Much as Merlin appreciated his raptor’s sense of justice, enacting it for the barista seemed unlikely. I don’t even know who her ex is.
No problem! His inner raptor’s tail whipped rapidly back and forth with excitement. We can find out! It’ll be fun!
The manager rushed out from the back. “What’s going on here?”
Merlin began, “I’m her—”
Evil ex, evil sofa stealing ex, his raptor put in.
“Ex,” said Merlin firmly. “I came in to harass her and taunt her and tell her I’d never give back her sofa that I stole. But now I’m leaving, bye!”
Before anyone could respond, he fled the Starbucks, leaving behind a trail of pink drips. With any luck his confession would excuse the barista’s reaction and protect her job, but it wasn’t as if he could stick around to make sure.
His raptor was bouncing around the inside of his head again. Let’s follow her home and search her house and find her evil ex’s address and steal her sofa and put it back in her house in the middle of the night so she’ll find it as a surprise when she wakes up!
Merlin had to admit that the “steal and replace sofa” part of the scheme had a definite appeal. But he had other things to do that day. Such as his job. Plus, the office had a bathroom and spare clothes. He could always order coffee delivered and hide in the bathroom once he heard the knock so someone else would open the door, thus reducing the risk that the coffee delivery person would see him as their evil ex or worst enemy or a mugger or someone else who needed the coffee thrown in their face rather than handed over.
Tell your friends about your power, and then you don’t need to hide in the bathroom, said his raptor.
For the millionth time, Merlin patiently explained the situation to his raptor. That power of mine has to stay a secret.
But your friends know you can turn into a raptor. Gleefully, his raptor added, And that I can change my size!
My other power is different, Merlin said. Summoning all his patience and trying to use simple terms that his raptor would understand and not be bored with, he said, My teammates already think I’m a liar. My other power is a sort of... lying power. It makes people see things that aren’t true. And I can’t control it. Sure, it doesn’t affect my teammates because they already know me. But if they knew about it, they’d think—
—you have a cool power! interjected his raptor.
—I’m a liar at heart, Merlin said. They already don’t respect me. If they knew about this, they wouldn’t trust me either. And that would be the end of me being on the team.
It was a bitter fact to face, but it was the truth. And, ironically enough, truth was something he respected.
As an afterthought, Merlin added, And they’re not my friends. They’re just my teammates. Friends are people who like each other.
You like your teammates, his raptor said.
Yes, but—
And they like you!
In a way, I guess, but... Merlin wasn’t sure how to explain. Protection, Inc: Defenders was a team of damaged misfits forced together by shared trauma. He trusted them to have his back, but it wasn’t like they went out for beer and pizza.
Tell your friends about your power, and then tell them about the sofa, and then we can steal it and give it back together, suggested his raptor. And then you can all get beer and pizza. And ice cream! With hot fudge. And whipped cream. ALL the whipped cream!
Merlin gave up. We’ll talk about the sofa retrieval later.
Ignoring the reply of No no no, now now now, Merlin headed off to work.
The familiar sound of a bang and a yell met his ears as he approached the lobby. Past experience told him that it was his teammates tripping over things or arguing. But hope, which sprang eternal in his breast, whispered that maybe he’d finally caught a magical pet of his very own.
Yes, yes, said his raptor. A shape-changing pterodactyl that can pick us up and fly us around, no matter how big or small we are!
Merlin had been thinking more of an adorable winged kitten that would perch on his shoulder, but his raptor’s idea did sound fun. Especially if the shape-changing pterodactyl was big enough for Merlin to ride rather than having to be dangled from its claws.
Eagerly, he threw open the door. The sight that met his eyes made him grateful that he’d gotten the idea of making traps. The live trap he’d set up in the window the night before had caught a magical pet! And what a wonderful one, too. A beautiful gray kitten with translucent dragonfly wings sat inside the trap. One paw was planted in the Kool-Aid cup and one on the honeycomb as it gobbled down the slice of bacon.
Merlin felt a delighted grin nearly split his cheeks. He’d had a good feeling about the bacon. He headed for the trap, hand outstretched, crooning, “Hello, kitty. I can’t wait to take you home.”
A woman stepped in front of h
im, blocking his path. He skidded to a stop.
Merlin had seen lots and lots of pretty women in his time, many of them in skin-tight spangled leotards, but none had ever captivated him with a single glance.
Until her.
Her brown eyes shone bright with intelligence, and her elegant upswept eyebrows gave her a slightly sardonic expression that suggested an excellent sense of humor. Merlin had always been good at reading people, a skill he’d honed in his years with the circus, and he thought she looked sensible and reliable, both traits which he admired and which people had often criticized him for lacking.
Also, she had hair like midnight silk, deliciously plump cheeks, and the most kissable lips he’d ever seen. Her body was an intoxicating combination of sensuality and strength, from the firm muscles of her shoulders to the luscious curves of her breasts and thighs, and she moved with the confidence and grace of a trapeze artist.
Her left hand was a prosthetic, and her clinging crimson dress did nothing to hide the scars on her left arm and leg. Merlin recognized the mix of shiny burns and ragged tears and neat surgical incisions: she’d been caught in an explosion. She must have been in combat; her hair was tightly braided and pinned up, which was typical for long-haired women in the military. He felt no pity for her—no veteran would want that, and he was sure from her bearing that she was one—but rather a sense of camaraderie and shared hardship. Like him, she was a survivor.
And this incredible vision was looking at him with an expression very much like the one the barista had worn right before she’d thrown a drink on him and slapped him in the face.
“That’s my kitten,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Merlin asked. “It’s in my magical pet trap.”
“Yes, I’m sure!” She shot him a glare fit to wither him in his tracks. “I brought her here.”
She strode to the window and opened the trap. The kitten leaped out, half the bacon still in its mouth, and flew to her shoulder. Its Kool-Aid and honey-soaked paws and the dangling bacon strip left sticky stains and oily smears on her fancy dress as it settled in and continued its meal.