Chrysalis Ch1: The Hidden (Patreon)

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The fae can appear as we do, with their glamours and trinkets... but a seasoned hunter knows the ways to pull their quarry out of its dank burrow.  

Invite it in but refuse its bid for departure, and you will see it trapped at your threshold as surely as though it were met by stone and mortar. Hold its hands to iron and see it sizzle and thrash, begging for release. Take out its eye and observe a certain iridescence... something beyond mortal constitution.   

Use these tools to discover those rats among us
The hidden in our midst.

-From the writing desk of Alastor O'Reilly, 1823

The neon sign of Cro Mart flickers, giving off a slight buzz just outside the little late night convenience store. Moths flutter nearby, fascinated by the light, occasionally bumping against the little tubes.

On the other side of the glass is a young man in a half-tucked red uniform, a green jacket pulled loosely over in spite of the stale atmosphere. His face is upturned, dark hair tumbling back as he watches the moths with just as much narrow focus as they give the neon light. He holds a damp rag in one hand with the spray bottle of window cleaner forgotten at his feet.

His soft brown eyes track the little insects' confused patterns, the way they weave around the light and each other, starkly lit against the velvet darkness outside.

Behind him plastic shelves are laden with convenience items. Aspirin. Coolers of sodas and ciders and ale. Canned meats. Candy and crisps.

A little stand of condoms.

Beyond that another young man with a shock of deep reddish-brown hair, a broad frame, and an easy demeanor is pushing a mop of lemon scented slosh along the floor. The lights outside flash off of the name ‘Ian’ pinned to his shirt.

He quirks a smile as his eyes catch sight of his distracted co-worker.
“Switch off the door sensor, would you, Lloyd?”

Lloyd jumps, giving his coworker a fragile smile.
“R-right. Sorry.”

Lloyd hurrys over to the automatic sensor mounted above the door, stretching to reach to turn it off. Ian flashes him a playful grin.

“That is, if you can tear yourself away. I understand the Greater Foxfurred Lunar Dustflapper is top tier entertainment.”

 Lloyd smirks, saying mostly to himself
“...they’re just angle shade moths.”

Ian snorts in amusement, but doesn't press the joke. Instead his attention falls on the wall-mounted TV in the corner.

"You worried about that predator?  
They say he's been targeting women, so... y'know...
... better be careful. Tone down the red eyeliner, yeah?”

Ian taps under his eye at Lloyd.  Lloyd's eyes flash between his coworker and the TV before the comment finally filters through his brain. For an instant, the rest of his cheeks match the soft red marks around his eyes, and his hackles prickle at the nape of his neck.

"It’s...
It's not makeup.
I've told you my skin just - “

He catches sight of Ian's face.  Ian is trying, and failing, to keep it straight.
Lloyd's outrage evaporates and is replaced by a scandalized smile.

“Prat. I’ll be fine." Lloyd says, shoving Ian who finally breaks into laughter.

Wandering behind the counter, Lloyd reaches into his personal cubby and retrieves his abused bookbag, giving it a few practice swings.
"Even if someone comes at me, which they won't, I'll give them the business end of this."

Ian watches him dubiously.
“Hoping he'll be a friend of the library, then?”

Lloyd rolls his eyes.  
“Come on. Don't pretend books aren't heavy enough for a little blunt force trauma. I’ll just -”

Riiiiiiiiiip

The bag, already old and tattered, splits at the zipper and a slew of hardcovers and paperbacks tumble across the floor.

Ian drops the mophead in the bucket and pushes it with a kick across the room.  It easily slides into the open storage closet, a little soapy water sloshing over the side. Before Lloyd can stop him, Ian is already scooping up books.

Lloyd scrambles down on his hands and knees to get to them first.
“N-no, that’s okay, I’ve got it!”

“I just mopped this. They’ll get damp.” Ian says simply.  He picks up the closest book, waving it back and forth in the light so the moth on the cover seems to flutter.  "Won't be able to identify your little friends if the pictures get damaged."

He hands Lloyd the book.   Lloyd, too flustered to protest, simply accepts and packs them into his split backpack.  Ian offers a running commentary.

“...bugs... more bugs... a little one note, but I like the consistency.
Oh here's something different. This one’s an airport best-seller isn’t it?
‘Origins of Celtic and Germanic Folklore: a Comparative Analysis’, I heard that's a real page-turner.”

Lloyd ignores his friend, trying not to give him the satisfaction, when he remembers in a panic what the last book is. Dropping his backpack, he dives for it but Ian’s too quick.

Ian holds the book up and away, a toothy grin splitting his face.
“Beetles or fairy tales? I’m going to put my money on - “

His voice cuts out, and now it's Ian's turn to get some color in his face as he looks over the cover illustration.

There’s no insects or fairies in sight.  Instead there's a pair of young men, swords locked in the middle of a castle courtyard. They’ve been drawn mid-fight, although they’re standing far closer and staring too intently for that to be the real conflict.

“I-I’ve got it, thanks.”
Lloyd takes the book back, stuffing it away hurriedly.

Ian smirks and lets go, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Didn’t take you for the romance type.”

Lloyd slides the backpack away protectively, speaking quickly.
“It has an interesting magic system...”

The two stare at opposite corners of the store, a bashful silence filling the space.  Finally, Ian stands up and circles the counter, digging out a roll of duct tape.   He extends his hand toward Lloyd.

“Here, we’ve got some tape back here.  
If you’re going to use it as self defense, at least let me help you reinforce it.”

“Yeah."  Lloyd starts, getting to his feet.
Yeah brilliant.” He continues, ambling cautiously to the counter.  He hands Ian the bag.

Ian takes it and gives it a look over, tugging at the rip to make sure it's not going to get worse.   Satisfied he unzips the bag and inspects the interior for a good place to start his repair.   He speaks as he works.

“Even so, you'll probably get one good hit out of this before it breaks again."

Ian hesitates a moment, before straightening up.   He pulls off a medium length of tape and tears it free, carefully placing it inside.  

Just then, a brightness enters Ian's eyes.
"But you know, I could always walk you home...?”

Lloyd's ears catch a little at the proposal.  He looks up at the TV, the black silhouette of an unidentified predator staring back at him.  Then he gazes to the parking lot, beyond the ring of yellow lights the darkness waits for him like a tangible wall.  

Casually, Lloyd rocks on his feet and rotates his shoulders back.  
"I brought my bike, though."

Ian taps at the the side of the bag, testing the interior. He’s not making eye contact with Lloyd as he continues.

"We could always walk the bike between us....
...or... if you're hungry..."

He stops, his gaze flitting to Lloyd.

...we could grab a bite somewhere."

Something about the suggestion mixed with the way Ian is looking at him... Lloyd’s heart picks up. Now it's his turn to break eye contact, instead focusing on the bag in Ian's hands.

"... but then you've gotta get back to your place all on your own."   Lloyd protests.
His stomach rumbles, and he winces.

"... is it a money thing?"   Ian asks, securing another piece of tape carefully over the tear in the fabric.  "If it is, don't worry about it. I can cover.  I'm good for it."

"Ah, man, you really..."  Lloyd starts, then trails off. His heart won't stop beating, and he can taste copper in the back of his throat.   

Why is he fighting this?

He breathes in slowly, his head tilting as he does, turning the thought over in his head. One of his hands drifts up to his reddened ears as Ian smiles awkwardly.

Lloyd smiles back - just slightly at first, then wider, a little more eagerly.
“Well I mean...
Where did you have in mind?”

Ian's grin widens and he drops the backpack, finally turning his full attention to Lloyd  

“Mate, I knew you'd see reason.  Safety first, right?   I mean wherever you like.   And by that I mean whatever's open at this hour, so we're probably looking at a diner or a bar.   I know some places nearby, hold up I'll pull up my phone I-”

"... Safety... first?"
At those words Lloyd’s smile cracks, then drops away. Ian can see the sudden shift in his companion's attitude.

"Lloyd?"   Ian says, his expression going to concern.   "Hey mate you alright?"

Lloyd takes his jacket and pulls it more tightly around himself.   He looks off to the side, and he can feel a coldness running down his spine.

" - I’m… sorry mate."  He begins, his words sloshing out of him.  " Tonight is… a bad night.

Maybe... another time."
He's quiet, standing awkwardly for a moment, unable to make eye contact with Ian.   Ian tries and fails to hide his disappointment.

“...oh.” Ian nods and looks at the counter. “Right, then.”

The TV mutters on in the background, switching over to the weather. Ian taps at the counter, more subdued than he’s been all night. Lloyd rubs awkwardly at his arm.

Ian finally clears his throat.

“Hey... don't worry about it."   He offers to Lloyd, getting back to work on the backpack.   "Another night."

Ian's eyes then shift.  Glancing back and forth conspiratorially, he leans forward and cups his hand around his mouth, asking in a stage whisper.  "That time of the month again, yeah?"

"PRAT"   Lloyd shouts, shoving Ian away who's already dissolving into a fit of laughter.    Lloyd's face is scarlet again, but a part of him is relieved.   It's good to see Ian laughing.    Maybe he's right.

Maybe there will be another night.

After a bit Ian finishes up and hands Lloyd the packpack.   He hates to admit it, but Ian's done a remarkably good job.    Maybe he won't replace his backpack just so soon after all...

"Oy, we’re pretty much done here. Why don’t you go ahead. Get home and get some rest.”  Ian says, dusting his hands off and tossing the tape back behind the counter.  Lloyd opens his mouth to protest but Ian is already waving him off.  “It’s fine, really. Slow night, I just need to take out the trash in the break room and lock up.”

"Are you sure?"  Lloyd presses.

"Aren't I always?"  Ian says with a wink, tapping out some keys on the cash register, which opens and he slams shut.  Lloyd sighs and nods gratefully. Backing away, he turns…

...and walks right into the door, bouncing off the glass.

"H-hey you alright?!"   Ian's voice catches him.   Lloyd is too flustered to turn around and see.   

"Right as right."   Lloyd says in a flurry.   "Night..!"

Ugh why did I rhyme  Lloyd groans to himself.  He fumbles with the door and eases out, letting it clatter behind him.   He's still seeing some spots from his collision and recalibrating.

Then, regaining himself, he slides his backpack over his shoulder with a slight oomph and makes his way across the parking lot.

Not before he’s gone more than a few steps, behind him the door bursts open again.
Lloyd whirls around jumpily as Ian runs up behind him, waving.

"Oi, Lloyd!  Hold on!"

Lloyd swallows, butterflies swarming his stomach again. The backpack dangles from his shoulder as he gives Ian a quizzical look.

Ian slows to a trot as he reaches Lloyd, then takes him by the wrist.  Turning his hand palm-up, Ian presses a fist-length yellow tube with a red button on top into Lloyd’s grasp. They look silently a moment before Ian folds it under Lloyd’s slender fingers.

"... just in case.
It'll do a lot more than a busted bag."

Lloyd looks up from the cylinder.
“Ian I’ll be fine, really.  You don’t need to worry about me. Joking aside, you KNOW he’s going after women, right?  I'm not a woman.”

Ian's gaze is completely locked on the can of pepper spray.  When he speaks, there's the slightest hint of a tremble.

“Yeah... but you're…

... pretty.”

Lloyd’s mouth has gone dry. Ian stays like that a moment, before he notes that he's still holding the other boy’s hand.  

He quickly pulls away, turning his back and inspecting the storefront. Lloyd snickers a little.   It was nice to see Ian be the flustered one for once.
"Point and press the red button, right?"

Ian nods at him.
"That’s the gist of it."

"I'll get it back to you tomorrow, but...thanks."

Lloyd gives Ian a soft smile, and Ian finally risks making eye contact again.   
"A-anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. And don’t forget to get a better backpack, would you?"

Ian takes a few steps away, then turns and gives a surprisingly shy wave before jogging back inside and closing the door with a little too much force. The moths scatter a moment, before returning to the little sign... only to be disappointed when it flickers off a moment later.

Lloyd watches him go, shadows settling in around him as the store lights click off one by one.

"Tomorrow. Yeah."

He waves the spraycan back at Ian’s silhouette.

Tomorrow.
His beating heart slows, and the edge of something tugs at him again.
If tomorrow ever came.

It's been 21 years of waiting for that tomorrow to come.

But for now it's 4am, and the street is dark and quiet.

The moths swirl around his head, then whirr off into the night, free of the neon sign's spell. A few of them spin past his ear.

"Good luck." Lloyd murmurs to them, before meandering to the metal rack by the store and kneeling down to unshackle his bike. His hand bumps against the cold surface of the structure and hisses, and he jerks away. You'd think after all these years he'd be better at that. The chain, a loop of white plastic, finally comes free and Lloyd stuffs it into his backpack with his books.

He swings around onto his bike. The pepper spray is awkward in his hands, so he jams it into his jacket pocket.
Tomorrow.    A tomorrow with Ian.
A tomorrow he can't have.

"M-maybe you're reading into it.."  Lloyd stammers to himself as he pedals out into the night.
"Maybe...maybe he just wanted dinner. And I mean this is IAN.   Who's to say it was a joke?
 He's just my mate.  My mate.   My-"

Before he can say 'mate' to himself again his cheeks brighten and he goes silent.

Weaving through the old, winding streets, he hunches over the handlebars far enough that his back is nearly arched. The moon is out and it's a crisp late spring night. The heavy, semi-metallic scent of mist rolling off the river Thames. He takes in a deep breath, letting the humid air clear out his thoughts as it tugs at his hair.

It’s only a short ride home. He can be there in a few minutes if he wants. Back up the stairs into his quiet little flat, where he can settle in and stretch.

Except...now that he’s actually on the way, he doesn’t want that. Not now, not with his head the way it is. The space he normally thinks of as peaceful now seems unbearably empty. Lloyd turns his bike off the street, cutting through a short alleyway and bumping off of a curb. There’s little to no traffic out at this time of night, and although this back way home is going to take him another ten or fifteen minutes to get back, he should have it all to himself.

It’s a little lonely, but it’s good for thinking in a way that his home wouldn’t be. It’s good for enjoying the night air, too. Something to take his mind off of the missed...the conversation he’s just had. Lloyd frowns, his eyes skating past darkened windows, as the road slides by.

“He wasn’t laughing, though, was he? He looked really worried…”

He turns the bike again, swinging wide of an old spiked wrought-iron railing. Lloyd swallows, leaning over the handlebars, thinking about how that felt. Someone thinking about him. Worrying for him.

Well...maybe...

“No. No, I can’t. It’s too complicated. He won’t - I mean, but m-maybe he will - I -

Aaaagh!!”

The longer route is having the opposite effect of what he wanted. Lloyd growls to himself and speeds up, his spokes starting to blur. Maybe he should sleep on it. Or at least wait until he’s gotten back and gotten comfortable, when there isn't so much on his mind.

“Almost home.” He mutters to himself, shifting his shoulders with a groan as he turns the bike. His back has started to ache, the way it does when he’s spent too much time with his jacket on. He’s used to it, but it’s something he doesn’t want to deal with longer than he has to.

“I can sort it all out after I stretch.”

The distant sound of engines fades beneath the lapping of water as he cuts along the river, the metal railing slicing across the glittering waves. He can see the iconic bridge, glimmering in the night.

And just ahead of him, slumped against the railing, is a figure.

Not a particularly tall or intimidating one. A woman wearing a patch-covered jacket that drops below her shorts, her hat pulled over her face.  Her legs are bare, with no regard for the cool night air. She’s leaning to the side with her back to Lloyd and her hands in her pockets, and she’s looking up at the moon, barely on her feet.

Lloyd's brow furrows, but before he can really consider what’s happening, he’s blown right past her. The bike rattles along over the bridge. He has time for one quick glimpse of her face beneath the hat - dazed, bloodshot eyes, a hollow expression - and then she’s gone again.

Stopping isn’t exactly safe, he tells himself. The bike jolts underneath him.

She doesn’t look like he’d pictured the predator, but that doesn’t mean things couldn’t go very badly for him, alone with a stranger at night. Or what if she thinks he’s the predator? Maybe she’d pull her own can of pepper spray. Or worse.

Better not to scare her. He can just go home.

And wonder.

And hope that things turned out all right for her.

Lloyd only goes a few more light posts before he jerks the bike around violently, wobbling for a moment before he catches his balance. The faint silhouette of the woman staggering around at the far end is still visible. Lloyd pedals slowly toward her, trying to look as harmless and helpful as he possibly can.

“This is so, so stupid. She’s fine. She’s fine.” He mumbles to himself, sitting up in the seat. At the exact same moment, the woman lurches, nearly dropping to one knee before she catches herself. Lloyd’s eyes widen, and he speeds up, raising his voice.

"Miss? Excuse me?"

He hops off his bike, wheeling it a little closer - while still staying a cautious distance.

"A-are you all right?"

The woman looks  at him with bloodshot eyes, weaving even more dangerously. She slips as she steps toward him, falling against the railing and smacking her elbow against the metal. Lloyd’s own arm twinges in sympathy as she grabs her arm and curses at it. The woman sways back upright, stepping away from the railing, and clutches her head with her free hand.

"Yes, I... stepped out to get a bit of air... but it d... doesn't seem to be helping all that much..."

Her voice is clipped, even a little formal, but also slurred. It’s not hard to guess why she’s having so much trouble keeping her balance. One mystery solved, at least.

Lloyd glances at the nearby river, then wheels his bike a little closer. Leaving her near the water is...probably a bad idea.

"D-do you live around here? I could - "

Ian's face flashes through his head, offering to walk him home. Lloyd heaves an internal sigh.

" - I could see you back."

He hesitates, remaining a few feet away. Would that be something a predator would say? A ploy to get her trust?

"Sorry if I'm, um. Overstepping. I just got off work. Er, night. Long shift. Seriously, though. I don't know if you’ve heard, but I’m not sure it’s safe for… I don’t know if you want to be out on your own tonight."

The woman stumbles a little closer, squinting to get a better look at him. She sways back a moment, then lurches closer, putting out her hand.

"I just... don't feel... quite right.... I'm... f..."

She trips and begins to fall forward.

"F...FUCK...!"

Lloyd’s bike clatters to the ground as he drops it, lunging forward.

"Miss...!"

He manages to catch her just before she hits the cobbles. She grabs at his shoulder, and he bites back a wince, shifting so she isn’t leaning quite so heavily on one side.

"H-hang on, I'll get you home. Which way? What's the address?"

The woman raises her head slightly, her mouth right next to his ear.

"... what a nice boy you are.
Sorry about this."

Lloyd blinks.

“Sorry?  About wha - HGH!”

It happens so fast. One moment, the woman’s leaning against him - the next,  a sudden sharp pain shooting through the back of his neck, followed by a trickling warmth and the acrid smell of copper.

He shoves her away, scrambling backwards and nearly trips over the curb. Spots dance in his eyes as he claps a hand to his neck, the feeling of blood seeping between his fingers.

"W-what the fuck? What the fuck?"

The woman straightens up, her earlier unsteadiness completely gone. The bloodshot traces in her eyes disappear one by one as they flow together. In moments, her sclera is a deep, murderous red.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck" she groans, grinning and licking her lips, her voice crackling with energy.

"THANKS, love. That's exactly the pickup a girl needs."  She tilts her head, her lips parting in a slow smile. "Let me tell you, human blood just does not compare to blood like yours."

"W-what do you mean, not like mine" Lloyd stammers, backing away until his leg thumps against his discarded bike. He looks down at it, calculating his odds.

"I think we both know what I mean"  the woman winks. She walks toward him, closing the gap at a slow, steady pace.  "That said, it's better safe than sorry. I'm afraid I have to impose a little more, crumpet.  Let's have us a look at what we're keeping under that jacket."

Lloyd freezes, staring at her, a sudden terrible realization flashing in his eyes.

He plunges his hand into his jacket, yanking out the can of mace. Shaking, he fumbles for the button.

"Get BACK!"

The woman watches with amusement.  With a laugh, she casually reaches into her own jacket pocket. Lloyd doesn't wait to see what for though, and instead closes his eyes and jams his finger down on the red button.

On the can he's pointed the wrong way around.

Startled, Lloyd jolts at the unexpected spray hitting the palm of his hand, only to be immediately assaulted by the fire in his OWN eyes.  Without thinking he cries out, dropping the canister, which bounces across the cobbles. He claps his clean hand over his eyes and tries to move away from the stinging cloud, but his feet tangle in his bike and he falls.

Everything's a painful, tear-streaked blur. Lloyd fumbles blindly for the canister, his heart pounding, his spine tingling.  He's forcing his eyes open to spot the neon yellow spray, his heart leaping as he blearily makes it out.  His fingers land on the cylinder, but before he can grasp it's kicked out of his reach.  

It clatters useless along the path, beyond the railing, and into the river.

"Sugarsnap, you are making this too easy."

He can’t see her, but he can hear every carefully-enunciated syllable. Her steel-toed shoes tap across the cobbles as she circles around him.

"Relax. With my luck, you're another false positive. I'm not here to murder a stranger."

The footsteps stop.

"I'm looking for someone in particular."

Lloyd reaches out blindly to grab at her, but it’s too late. She’s already got him by the jacket, and his shirt underneath it. Ignoring his choking yell of protest, she pulls it between her hands.

The long, rough rip of fabric tearing splits the air. Lloyd flinches as he feels the breeze against his skin. The woman tuts softly to herself.

"... hmmm... well, it really is not your night, is it?"   Her voice lilts up melodically on the last syllable.

"Here, let me help you with..."

She reaches down. Lloyd can’t see what she’s doing, but he can feel it - her hands on the tight strip of cloth wound around his chest and shoulders. The aches and twinges as she deftly tugs, letting them fall free within his ruined shirt.

The stretch of cramped muscles as a pair of grey-green moth wings, large enough to drape down his back and dashed with jagged brown lines, bursts free from their wrappings.

Lloyd jerks away, landing on his hip, wings trembling behind him. He scrambles upright again, wheezing for breath. The woman hasn’t reacted to his sudden movement.

“H-how...how did you know…?”

Through his tears, he can see the woman raise a blurry hand. Putting her finger to her lips.

“Shhh.”

Lloyd chokes back a whimper and whirls, his wings trailing like a cloak for an instant before they snap to life. They flutter and hum in agitation as he races blindly down the street, away from her as fast as he can.

Behind him, the woman sighs and looks up at the sky.

"No, wait, don't run."  She drawls, dripping boredom. She digs into her pocket and pulls out two rock candies, one blue and one pink.

"Seems a bit like overkill... but...she is the mark. Best to handle this like a professional."

She takes them between her first three fingers and in a smooth, practiced motion, she flicks her wrist to the pavement. The two pieces of candy splinter on the ground and explode into a puff of vapor, one taking the form of an enormous pink viper, and the other of a blue one.

She sighs and stretches as they slither around her, tongues tasting the air.

"... don't hurt her too much. The Lady wants her 'handled with care'. But let's make short work of this, yes?"

++++

Lloyd takes a wheezing breath as he tries to get his wind back, blinking away the stinging residue from his eyes. He’s standing just inside of a winding alley lined with narrow doors and garbage cans, a chain link fence blocking off the far end. The wall is sandpaper-rough under his hand, and it might be the only thing keeping him upright.

His wings are still beating - faster than ever, it feels like. As if they're glad to be out in the open air. The first time he’s ever unwrapped them outdoors. The hum of streetlights mixes with their fluttering, forming a soothing rhythm in his ears.

He lifts his head, listening.

Nothing. No sound of the woman’s approaching footsteps, just the sound of his fluttering wings and distant traffic.

Maybe he's lost her? Lloyd puts a hand gingerly to his neck, his stomach swooping as the flickering streetlights pick out a faint red smear of blood on his fingers.  He can't rely on that though. He needs to find someone.  Hide somewhere.   Do something.

His wings slow, then come to a stop, disused muscles starting to complain as the motion fades away.  Lloyd hears it as soon as the fluttering dies away. Something moving behind him. A scraping, or...clattering? He looks over his shoulder and gulps back a wet gasp of panic.

Two long, serpentine forms, sliding down the alleyway after him. One bright pink, the other deep blue, snakes the size of labradors… and heading directly towards him.

Lloyd hurls himself down the alleyway, his heart pounding as he dashes for the fence. At the movement, the pink snake darts toward his legs, opening its jaws with a hiss.

Lloyd only just leaps over the creature as it lunges, his wings turning the panicked motion into a push, the snake close enough for him to feel brush past.  It crashes into a can and tangles in the trash spilling across the ground.

A faint wisp of steam rises from its coils where it strikes the iron can, and it hisses furiously, thrashing to escape.

Ahead, a golden rectangle of light spills into the alleyway.

An older man with a cap on his head and a plastic bag in his hand is standing in an open doorway, blinking owlishly into the night.

Lloyd’s head snaps up.

Light.

Safety.

"Help!"

He bolts for the door, switching directions away from the fence.

"Help me!"

The man’s head snaps up at the yell. Without pausing to think, he drops the bag and grabs Lloyd’s arm, pulling him through the open door and into a cramped hallway.

"Oi, miss, what's the trouble?! Quick, you’re safe in here - “

He stops as Lloyd stumbles into the light. Lloyd cringes down, his arms in front of him and trying in vain to tuck his wings back. Already primed by a night of Ian’s teasing, he starts to speak without even thinking about it.

“I-I’m not a mi - “

Something long and blue and furious flashes past his head and crashes into the man. He screams, grabbing at the snake - and the sound dissolves into a wet gurgle and snap. Bright red blood sprays across the floor. Lloyd staggers back, clapping a hand over his mouth and fleeing through a swinging door deeper into the building before the snake can slither around for another strike.

He’s standing in the middle of a back kitchen, surrounded by a little maze of counters and cupboards. The sink is still running, water splashing against metal.

Without thinking, Lloyd drops behind the central counter, yanks open a cubby door, and squeezes himself into as small a space as possible. His sides going in and out as he fights to control his breathing, his shaking wings pressed flat. A bottle of detergent digs into the small of his back. He barely fits. His hands are pressed over his mouth.

And for a moment there is silence. Just the sound of running water.

BANG

The door to the kitchen slams open, followed by a melodic, cheerful whistle.

And the sound of steel-toed shoes on tile.

Lloyd scrunches down harder, straining not to scream.

There’s a heavy sigh, and then the sound of someone hopping up, sliding across a smooth countertop. A crunch.  The woman talking around a mouthful of something.

"Sweet little flutter-friend, this can go one of two ways. If you come out all tidy, this can be quick and clean."

"Or you can stay where you are, and this can be drawn out and painful.

I do dislike messy business."

There is a tapping of fingers on the granite just over his head. It echoes all around him, causing the walls to practically shake with the sound.

Clicklicklicklick

"Let's say I count to three and see where we are, how does that sound?
... oooooone."

Lloyd holds his breath.

".... twooooooooooo."

The sound rattles around him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

‘Three’ never comes. Only silence.

Lloyd doesn't move.

He holds himself as still as he possibly can.

Slowly, he opens his eyes, waiting, trying not to shake.

Seconds tick by.   Then minutes.

His heart, his lungs, everything feels like it’s about to explode out of him.

All he can hear is

running

water.

Lloyd knows he shouldn't. But the tension feels like it's about to tear him apart. He eases forward very, very slowly. Pushing the door open just a crack.

The stranger’s reclining along the countertop directly across from him. She smiles down around a chewed-on lollipop stick, slow and lazy, just as the water begins to overflow from the sink.

"... there she is."

A second later, the cabinet door explodes off its hinges. The two vipers attack from opposite sides, wrapping around him and pulling him out into the open, pots and pans flying. Everything blurs as Lloyd’s head smacks against the wood on the way out. He can feel the coils biting against his skin, rough and burning, smelling sweet and metallic all at once.

The coils of the blue one tighten around him, chest to calves, carefully wrapping under his wings to avoid crushing them. Lloyd gasps for breath, flapping at the air as the pink one languidly slithers around to hover above his arm. It flicks its tongue at him...and then lunges.

He doesn’t even feel the bite, just a numbness creeping up his limb, spreading through his body. The room brightens and blurs further. Lloyd struggles weakly as the woman hops off the counter, landing next to him and kneeling down on the slowly-flooding floor to caress his cheek.

"You didn't think I'd lose you so easily, did you?  

Peppermint, you taste..."

She licks along his clavicle, all the way up his neck.

"...intoxicating."


And then the world goes white.


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