Zayzann inhaled the powerful stench and followed its trail to an alleyway near the subway station. It melted into the filthy back street, mingling with the putrid smell of rancid garbage. He abandoned the search when the sound of the approaching bus air brakes broke through the din of afternoon city noises. Zayzann trudged back to the bus shelter with barely a moment to spare before the bus took off on its route.
Huddled behind a leaky dumpster was a hunched figure, covered in a wrinkled trench coat with dark bluish-black stains splattered all over it like a Rorschach inkblot. He stared with a pained expression from a single luminous, steely-blue eye which revealed a badly battered face that resembled a shattered porcelain doll. His features were once beautiful but were now a fractured parody of their former brilliance.
He was not… an Augment. Cruxuss deduced to himself. How did he sense my presence here? Is he… another Traveler?
Khazmine finished paying for her hasty purchase and thanked the cashier for their help with setting up the new cellphone for her. She ducked out of the store with her new phone in hand and fled to the discreet privacy of a disused building that formerly had a thriving bakery in it. Typing the number from the crumpled flyer into the phone, she placed her first call to V.W.
“Hello, I’m calling about a lost kitten?” Khazmine couldn’t help but phrase her statement as a question. She could hear subtle breathing on the other end of the line, but no response. “Woggs, are you there?”
“I hear you, Cassie.” A gruff voice finally responded. “It’s been a while. Can you meet me by the riverside? It’s important.”
“When and where?” Khazmine narrowed her eyes and listened to the deep voiced instructions. “Fine. I’m on my way now. Don’t go anywhere.”
Waves of oppressive heat flickered and danced across the horizon as a craggy man in a disheveled suit fed halved grapes to a pair of ducks by the riverside from his shaky bench. He barely heard the approach of the stealthy Augment, until she stepped on a discarded plastic drinking straw to avoid startling the grizzled fogey.
“That was fast.” The specialist replied, glancing back at Khazmine, who was smoothing her messy hair from the hasty sprint across town. “You got a new number, too? What should I save your number as?”
“Cassandra.” Khazmine hissed, clearly flustered by the specialist’s nonchalance. “Or Cassie. I’ve no preference.”
“You read a lot of mythology?” The specialist typed into his phone without looking up at the annoyed Augment. “Cassandra was a mortal woman with the gift of prophecy, you know that?”
“Indeed. Cursed to have her predictions unbelieved.” Khazmine sneered. “I know the stories, Woggs.”
“Victor. Just call me Victor. After all we’ve been through, calling me Woggs sounds so impersonal.” The specialist patted the unoccupied half of the bench with a calloused hand. “There’s a reason I called you out here, Cass.”
Khazmine plopped down on the bench, shaking it with her immense weight. She didn’t look like it, but her metallic components made her a match for all but the heaviest humans. Victor noted her slight build when they’d first met but chocked it up to one of life’s little mysteries. He knew of much better ways to die than asking a lady how much she weighed.
“One of my regulars has been asking about your girl.” Victor explained as he tossed another couple of grapes to the greedy ducks below. “You know, the office worker you’d wanted me to find?”
“Alcazar.” Khazmine side eyed Victor, hoping to pick up any micro expressions that might give her more information. “She’s under my protection, Victor. I don’t want her messed with.”
“I only told him what any half-wit PI would tell him.” Victor continued. “Family stuff, financial pain points, and a car accident; nothing else. He’s looking for leverage, Cass. I don’t know what you’re up to, but he wants access to something she’s got.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Khazmine’s eyes narrowed, barely concealing her slit-shaped pupils that threatened to expose her as inorganic. “You don’t owe me anything after we worked together on that last case. What’s the price for this information, Victor?”
“Nothing.” Victor shrugged as he tossed the last few grape halves to the grateful mallards. “Consider this a professional courtesy. I can’t ask for any favors if you’re caught up in some white-collar nonsense, now, can I?”
“Very well. Then what about my other request?” Khazmine asked as she scanned his face for insight.
“I haven’t had any luck yet, but I’ll keep looking.” Victor sighed.
“Keep me apprised.” Khazmine rose from the bench and searched for the nearest bus shelter, spotting one about eighty feet away. “It’s worth a favor if you keep me up to speed on what your regular wants with my associate… Can you give me a name?”
“You’re a crafty lass.” Victor scoffed as he grunted to his feet. “I’m sure you already know.”
“Yes, I believe I do.” Khazmine smirked as the pair turned and went their separate ways.
Byxx was the last one to arrive home that evening, caked in sweat and smelling like low tide from another difficult workout with Curtis. Zayzann had nearly fainted at the stink of him, declaring that alleyway refuse smelled sweeter, which prompted Byxx to chase after the Paxoram and threaten to rub off the smell by way of a big bear hug. The pair chased each other playfully for a moment around the living room, alerting Iris to their presence with their stomping about.
“Hey now, no fighting.” Iris demanded with a finger pointed first at Byxx, then at Zayzann. “Honestly, you two… Oh, Byxx, honey. You need a shower…”
“I was just about to head back there.” Byxx whipped off his drenched tank top and hurled it into a nearby laundry basket. “Did you leave me any hot water?”
“Not a chance.” Iris teased.
“You’re so cruel, human!” Byxx played the wounded party expertly. “How could you deny me?”
Byxx dove in for a hug with a playful, kissy face, while Iris pushed the immense archfiend away with both hands. “No, stop it! You’ll get your sweat all over me. Zay, help!”
Zayzann pressed a titanic blue wing into the archfiend, forcing him to step back from Iris. Byxx was feeling particularly cheeky that evening and grabbed the wing with both arms to towel off his moist limbs and chest.
“Eww, gross!” Zayzann blanched at the contact. “Iris, do something! He’s disgusting.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark.” Byxx released the dampened wing, only to have it strike his face with the force of a skillfully thrown couch pillow. “Oof, all right, all right, fine. I’ll take a shower. You happy?”
“No.” Iris and Zayzann replied in unison, prompting all three roommates to laugh at their own absurdity.
The only roommate left out of the strange bonding experience was Khazmine, who was making dinner in the kitchen. She was so preoccupied with thoughts of her own that she nearly allowed the pasta on the stove to boil over. It had been a long and trying day, and she worried for her companion. Not only was she ill and struggling, but that stuffed shirt supervisor of hers was exerting influence and trying to crush her. Khazmine failed to notice the pasta until it burbled over the rim with white foam.
“Everything okay in here, Khaz?” Iris asked curiously from the entryway. “You’ve been super quiet this evening. Is everything all right?”
“I am fine.”
“You know, you can talk to me about anything that’s bothering you.” Iris laid a cool, gentle hand on Khazmine’s shoulder and gave her a subtle squeeze. “I’m here for you, whatever it is.”
“I was thinking about something foolish, mistress.” Khazmine sighed. “Please pay me no mind. Dinner is to be on the table directly.”
“Okay but let me know if you change your mind.” Iris collected plates and cutlery to set the kitchen table. “I’m here to listen.”
And I’d like to keep it that way for a long time. Khazmine ruminated. I won’t let him touch you, little one.
Dinner was the same rowdy, excitable experience that Iris had gotten used to over the last three weeks. It was hard for her to believe that she had a completely different life before meeting her strange roommates, and yet, here she was, enjoying their time together as a family. She couldn’t help but feel relief when she spent time with her new companions and Iris counted them as her most cherished blessings since she started feeling ill so long ago.
“Hey, guys?” Iris interrupted a discussion about grocery shopping once she’d remembered to inform them about work. “I’ll be working with Mr. Cavendish to straighten out the messed-up launch orders. I’ll still be coming home each night, but I may have to work late over the coming weeks.”
To her surprise, none of the roommates protested outright, but Byxx and Zayzann eyed Khazmine from across the table. She was the most vociferous with her objections to working late in the past. Khazmine’s eyes had a thin glaze that came when she neglected to blink the hydraulic fluid away for a prolonged period, giving her a wistful, distracted look.
“If you think that is best, mistress.” Khazmine finally broke the silence. “But I would prefer you to come home at a reasonable hour.”
Shocked at Khazmine’s lack of support, Zayzann excused himself from the table, as the irritating, skin-crawling feeling tormented him again. Iris remained ignorant of Zayzann’s dislike of her long absences, and she had a difficult time trying to sleep that night, once Zayzann had stalked off again to prowl around the spare room for hours.
Morning came too soon for Iris, clawing with gilded rays unsympathetically through the dusty bedroom blinds. The half-asleep Iris threw on one of her nicer cowl-neck tops and her favorite pleated pants and readied herself for a coffee meeting with Mr. Cavendish. At least the promise of fresh, premium coffee lifted her spirits, and she could think of little else as she and Mr. Cavendish made their way to Valencia’s.
It was such a rare treat that Iris was practically giddy with excitement, much to Mr. Cavendish’s amusement. She had a favorite, rapid-fire coffee request ready to go as they placed an order at the decadent coffee shop, while her partner struggled to place his order. He had difficulty remembering what his order was from his old college days and felt pressured to decide. After a minute of stammering, Iris smiled brightly and offered a helping hand.
“How about an iced toasted vanilla espresso, shaken, with oat milk, sir?” Iris beamed at Mr. Cavendish, who nodded his approval at the cashier.
“Sounds great.” Mr. Cavendish smiled. Iris had a friendly, comforting demeanor that he’d grown fond of over the last few weeks. “It should just be a minute.”
“I’ll get us a table by the window.” Iris pointed to the cosey corner booth.
Iris’s cheerful voice drew the attention of a tall stranger in the back of the shop, who rose from his booth and strode towards the window wall where Iris settled to wait. He was a well-dressed, younger man with an ill-fitting pair of designer glasses that he repeatedly pushed back to meet his sharp, hazel eyes. Without warning, he sat opposite Iris and smiled affectionately, crinkling several charming freckles into the deep dimples on his cheeks. Iris snapped her gaze from the window to meet his pleased grin and he watched the color drain from her face.
“Hey, Iris. It’s been a long time.”
Comments (4)
See all