Chrysalis Ch7: Suspicious Leads (pt1) (Patreon)

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With a satchel slung over his shoulder,  Lloyd swings open the door to his old room and is met by a wash of light pouring in from the windows. Squinting into the space, his antennae move to track a pair of errant dust motes as he steps inside.

It looks… empty now, all his things taken down off the walls and cleared from the shelves. His old nightstand is still there but the bed frame is different, sleek and low instead of the clunky wooden one he’d slept on most of his life. Tall lamps frame the corners of the room.  The walls are freshly painted over and new white trim lines the floor and doorway.

It’s strange.  It’s  the same space.  He has countless memories here.  Long nights huddled next to the night stand, reading through his favorite fantasy series or entomological encyclopedia. Time spent building his terrariums for his ant colony.  Rainy afternoons curled up at the window, watching the neighborhood children splash and play in the streets below.

So familiar, so many memories, but at the same time it’s completely different now.  It’s not really his space anymore.  Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t go back.

It isn't that he blames his parents for turning it into a guest room.  He moved out years ago.

But even so, he can’t help but feel a little down about it.

His mother steps in behind him and deposits a stack of blankets on the bed.  She begins arranging things for the two guests, laying out the second set of bedding on the floor next to the bed. Lloyd crosses his arms and distracts himself with one of the lamps. The awkwardness from their kitchen discussion is still fresh and neither of them can bring themselves to look at the other.   

A cheerfully aloof whistle comes from the door, distracting Lloyd from his sour mood. It’s his  father of course.  Mr Morgan never could read a room, not when he was busy with a project.  All his attention was focused on the task at hand; namely, pouring a generous line of salt across the threshold.  Finishing this, he stands back and surveys his work, nodding his satisfaction.  He turns and passes Lloyd on the way to the windows.

"Are you sure we should seal off everything?" Lloyd asks, smiling half-heartedly. "What if there's a fire?"

Mr Morgan jiggles the window locks, testing them one by one.  "How do we know you’re not immune to fire?" Lloyd's father replies jovially as he starts in on the salt.

“I’m not sure I’m up to testing that.” Lloyd’s says with the barest hint of a laugh.

“Oh no?”  Mr Morgan asks, Lloyd only half certain he’s joking.  “Well, I suppose it’s for the best.  I think your mother hid the matches.”  Mr Morgan stops and glances with deliberate mischief at his wife.   Her mind is elsewhere though, and he shrugs and continues with his work.

Lloyd Frowns over at his mother, Then retrieves Lyra’s scale out of his bag and holds it up to the light. It casts a faint glow through the message as the light filters through the smoky lens. Now that the writing has revealed itself, the scale feels less sturdy than it did initially.  The edges have started to flake away from his handling, and something in it feels spent or used up.  Still, he wants to see if there’s anything else he can glean from it… anything he can learn from the twisting letters…

The market is loathsome, but useful. Find work in that place and you'll have its protection.

What kind of protection?  Protection from Astraea?  Protection from the other vendors? How would he even find work there?  Who would possibly hire him?

He’s read over that line so many times it swims in his head, but he feels compelled to read it again.  Is there any other way to read it?  Is he missing something?  Some hint of a trap or indication NOT to follow its direction.

But there it was.

Find work in that place and you'll have its protection.

It was his best and only lead.

"Does that say what kind of fae you are?” His father asks, looking over Lloyd’s shoulder. “Selkie? Redcap? I'd say brownie, but we all know how you kept your room - ”

"Daniel." Lloyd's mother says, quietly but reproachfully. She snaps out a blanket over the bedding on the floor, letting it slowly drift into place.

"Oh come now  Sarah,  Don’t tell me you’re not also curious. Its not like we haven’t speculated about it before.”     His dad responds poking Mrs Morgan playfully.  Mrs Morgan shoos him away, but the tips of her ears go red with embarrassment at being called out in front of Lloyd.

Lloyd decides to ignore this, instead tucking the scale carefully back into his satchel.  "The scale doesn’t say anything about that.  It mentions other things: finding safety in the market.  Impressing some ‘king’ person.  Avoiding a bookkeeper.   Maybe she owed him money.”

He turns his hand over, looking over his black nails and for a moment remembering the jagged edged claws they once were.  “Seems she had a talent for making ‘friends’.”  Lloyd mutters.

Lloyd looks down in thought, mulling it over, before breathing out a sigh with a shrug.   “…as for what I am… I could make my guesses, but I can’t say for sure.   I’m hoping I can find out when I return to the Market.”

"If  you decide to go back to the market.”  Mrs. Morgan blurts out in a high, flustered voice.  Torn, she retreats  saying “S-sorry Love.   We can… we agreed we would talk about that after you’ve had a rest.   There’s no need to rush into anything. We’re all tired, and no one’s thinking clearly.”

She looks up at him with anxious hopefulness, only for him to look away.
“I just want to be sure.”   She reiterates, dissolving back into worry.

Lloyd shifts restlessly, speaking mostly to the wall. "Mum, I keep turning it over in my head, but…  she all but gave me the hotel's mailing address.  What else could she have meant?”

“I know.”  His mother responds heavily.   “I… I know.”   
She frets over the corners of the comforters, defeated.  

"I didn't say I wanted to go right now.”  Lloyd starts, looking her way as he tries to reassure her. “I don't want to go back.   But it’s possible that if I do,  I could get some answers.   About myself.  About how I can protect myself and protect you two.”

“One more variable that we can get control of.”  He emphasizes.

His mother looks up, some of the tension easing out of her.

"Why are we making up two beds?”  Mr Morgan interrupts.

Lloyd and his mother stop and look at him.  He’s crossed his arms and is staring at the second sleeping spot as if he’s only now realized what his wife has been doing.

“It’s for Lloyd, love.”  Mrs Morgan says, her own confusion meeting his.  “So Ian can take the bed.”

“Ian’s sleeping in here?”  Mr Morgan says, his confusion deepening.

“Why wouldn’t he?”  Lloyd asks, the hint of the reason starting to pull at him.

“Well you know.”  Mr Morgan continues, laughing nervously.  “Reasons.”

Lloyd stares at his father.

then clicks.

"Wha - Dad."  Lloyd starts, scandalized, wrapping his arms around himself. "I'm f-fine.”

“I’m just wondering why he has to sleep in this room.”  Mr Morgan says, gesturing to the bed.

“Where else is he going to sleep, the garage??”  Lloyd sputters.

“He could always take the couch in the foyer.”  Mr Morgan offers.

“Daniel, Lloyd wants him to sleep in here.” Lloyds mother interrupts, walking over to Lloyd.  She places her hand on his shoulder.  “So that’s where he’s going to sleep.  Lloyd is still our son.  And a grown adult.  He can make his own decisions.”

She ruffles Lloyd’s hair, careful to avoid disturbing the antennae.  He looks up at her, finally relieved to make eye contact with her again.  
“Besides,” she continues, “someone needs to be here in case he needs to get out.  You know, in case of a fire.  Now that you’ve seasoned all the exits.”

Mr Morgan stands gruffly for a moment, his chest puffing up.   Then he seems to pop, releasing all the air in a long drawn out sigh as he holds his hands up in defeat.  “Alright you win.  Make responsible decisions son.”

He gives Lloyd his usual aloof, tension breaking smile, but Lloyd doesn’t meet it. His eyes are on the floor.  His face pale.

“There’s nothing to responsible about.”  Lloyd says out Loud as much to himself as his parents.  “Ian's into guys… as far as I can tell.  And even if he’s being respectful of who I am… I can’t fault him for feeling… differently about me now."

"Ian’s-”  Mr Morgan stammers, finally putting it together.

“oh. OH." Mr. Morgan stammers, a sort of slow realization washing over him. He clears his throat. “I - ouch!”

Mrs. Morgan has just pinched him hard on the side. He rubs the back of his head apologetically.  “I gotcha.   Sorry… yeah, that’s a big oof.”

Mrs Morgan tucks in next to her husband and offers Lloyd a conciliatory expression.  "We’re sorry, Lloyd. Maybe with some time and research we can find a way to undo what… what that tree woman did to you."

"Yeah...maybe." Lloyd answers.

The thought's slippery. Like he can't focus too much on it. Or maybe he doesn't want to. Lloyd reaches up to pull himself up by the windowsill. "Sorry. This is probably all so weird for you. Did you - hzzt." Lloyd's fingers thump against the air over the line of salt, rebounding on the barrier. He gives his hand a shake, wincing.

Mr Morgan cruises over to him and takes him by the hand, looking it over.  “You alright?”  He says, looking it over.

“Never better.”   Lloyd offers, feeling suddenly very tired.

His father looks at him, then pulls him into a hug.   It surprises him for a moment, and then he sinks into it.   His dad gently rocking him.

“Don’t you worry.  Ian, your mother and I…  we'll get this sorted.

Just you wait and see."

“Thankf da”  Comes Lloyd’s muffled reply.   But he really did appreciate it.

The sound of knuckles on wood draws everyone’s attention, and Ian leans in through the doorway.  “Oy, not interruptin am I?”  He asks.

Mr Morgan smiles warmly at him, gesturing for him to come in.  “Not at all.  Make yourself cozy.  How did things go with the call to your mum?”

Ian steps carefully over the line of salt, pocketing his cell phone as he does.

"It’s worked out proper. Told Mum my friend is having a pinch of an emergency right now," Ian looks up in thought. "Not trying' to keep nothin’ from her exactly, but I withheld the... finer points for the moment.  She's a little spacey, but she'll make out alright."

Lloyd folds his hands, trying to imagine Ian explaining the ‘finer points’.  "Thanks again for doing this.”  He says apologetically.

Ian nods.  "Cheers. Ain’t nothin.  How’s all this going?" He looks around, grinning.  "Your old room innit?   Where are all the bug diagrams and such.”

Lloyd huffs, finally making eye contact. It’s familiar ground, at least. There’s something about that that’s comforting. "It's the guest room now. Prat."

Ian stares at him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Lloyd drops his voice to a mumble.

"...that's all at my flat now."

"HA!" Ian barks out a laugh, his face cracking into an exuberant smile. "That's the Lloyd I know."

"You should have seen Lloyd's ant farm phase." Mr. Morgan interjects, chuckling. "You had to duck to get under some of the tubes. It went from here...." He gestures from one end of the room. "... to here." He crosses all the way to the other side.

Sure enough, there are still tiny hooks and eyelets screwed into the walls, remnants of makeshift scaffolding.

"DAD!" Lloyd yelps, waving his arms. It’s too late. Ian’s eyes light up gleefully.

"Do you have photos?"

"I'm this close to kicking you both out and keeping Lloyd to myself today." Mrs. Morgan interrupts, scooping Lloyd into her arms possessively.   He grins sideways, trying and failing to pull free.

“Mum, you’ve all had me plenty. I think for the moment the only thing I want is a pillow and a proper sleep.”

Lloyd looks back out the window, watching the pale sky, and sobers. “I... don't think anything's going to happen in broad daylight, but I...well, I want to get to bed as soon as possible.   It’s our best chance of not getting interrupted."

It was unlikely to happen so soon, but the thought of Neith slinking around the garden is enough to set him on edge.

Mrs. Morgan releases Lloyd and makes her way towards the doorway, grabbing hold of Mr Morgan and tugging him along behind her.  "Don't be afraid to ask for anything."  She says, pausing at the doorway as she carefully to step over the salt. "We'll be just down the hall if you need anything."

She stops and looks up, a worried smile crossing her face.

"Thank you for being okay." She whispers, then turns and leaves down the hall, their footsteps fading into the house.


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We'll be adding illustrations to this soon!
Also look forward to the second part of this set to release Friday Oct 29th!
Happy Spooktober everyone (o˘◡˘o)