Kristen yawned and answered the doorbell—fuzzy pink robe and all. A smiling, thin, sharp-nosed man in a garish suit stood on her mat.
“Good morning!” His grin grew even wider. “I represent Catharsis Effigies Inc., and I’d like to interest you in our one-of-a-kind product.”
“Sorry.” Kristen shifted to close the door. “I have a really full day.”
Since the last werewolf outbreak twenty years ago, sightings of the unpleasant beasts have become blessedly rare. So, it was a surprise to find one lounging in our new neighbor’s yard.
Two other canids lounged around, too: a mutt the size and color of a dirty mop, and a sleepy bloodhound.
I was nearly done raking the lawn when someone plump, perky, and purple-clad appeared in a gust right there, scattering leaves.
“Who are you?” I wielded the rake.
She shook a leaf from her skirts. “Your fairy godmother, dear.”
“Fairy godmother—? But I didn’t know fairies were real.”
“That explains your rude surprise.
She turns as I approach. Girl in a tan hoodie with wisps of long blond hair. The way her hood is up, I assume she’s wearing an IdentMask, and I’m right. Black haze conceals her face. Her eyes are red, glowing Xs, and her mouth a sewn-shut line. It’s a cheap, basic mask,
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Eggs are magic.
They seem simple: shell, white, yolk. Cook them scrambled, fried, boiled.
But separate the parts and find complexity. Whites may be whipped into foam light as cloud and stable as glass. Yolks, yellow as sunshine, whipped with oil and lemon juice turn white, or whipped into a bechamel of butter, flour, milk,
An end-of-a-hot-day smell lingers in the air and the scattered clouds turn gold as I set off from my apartment. Easy route for my first run through the neighborhood in too long. The August weather is nice, and I revel in the familiar rhythm of feet pounding pavement.
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Water laps under the pier. It’s a new moon, leaving the night dark. Ropes chafe my wrists—like guitar strings against my fingers, but harsh as the bad memory of yesterday, when this all began.
Busking on the corner near Brown’s Bar, I was getting good Saturday-afternoon tips from sailors off some freighters that’d just come in.
“If you don’t mind, Ellie,” Mr. Hill smiled pleasantly, again. “I’d rather not say anything more unless you’ve signed the non-disclosure agreement.”
An NDA seemed extreme as a requirement for a nannying job. But then, many things about this position were odd.
Haruo Settlement of the Last Survivors of Japan, 2094
Translated from Japanese
It was only a matter of time. I am fortunate I have been spared from it this long.
But it is necessary.
“This thing’s a museum piece.” Russ unlocked the door. “Literally. The only reason it’s not on display is that we don’t like to advertise.”
Will managed a half-smile as he entered the storage locker. Light flooded gray walls and concrete, making the object within incongruous: a domed cage of wrought copper and treated glass with exposed mechanical parts
Barely enough remained of the starship to make it valuable. It had been so badly damaged that Abby couldn’t tell what it was. It might have been anything from a cargo vessel to a battle cruiser. Now, it was past whatever purpose it had been meant for.
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Two multiple-homicides in a 3-block radius, and I got the one with no survivors.
Dark backroom. Dead bodies still seated around a game of poker.
Each man was a high-ranking member of the Martinez Gang. Even if I didn’t know them from run-ins or rap sheets, the distinctive neck tattoos advertised it.
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