Normalcy
Tempest has campuses across what remains of Nye Verden. The few in Europe that survived the Affliction War went further underground to protect their members. The ones in New America simply integrated with the corporate culture. That, my friends, is where the Apothecary came from.
“Real ballsy of you to stare daggers at the God Queen like that.”
I startle, turning to find the source of the voice.
“I–” my throat feels suddenly very dry.
“Can I sit?” The woman says.
I nod dumbly, and she sits across from me at my diner booth, not exactly blocking my vision to Mary.
But Jesus Christ.
The woman looks like she might be a mix of a cat or something like it. It’s not even that she’s animalistic, it’s that she almost isn’t. For some reason, she looks like a fox made into a woman, rather than the other way around.
And the effect is dangerously gorgeous. Like a beautiful creature that just so happens to share features with a fox.
Fox–yeah, that’s closer.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer, my entire focus now on the woman across from me, rather than on Bloody Mary. “I’m just not–”
“Oh,” she says, and it seems like her somewhat furry cheeks pink a little.
“I’m just not used to seeing–” I can’t even find my words.
“I can change to a more human-y form,” she nods quickly, and the skin around her face begins to shift.
“No,” I say quickly, grabbing her hand off the table before I really think about it.
Her skin–fur–is insanely soft. And her hand is warmer than I expected. Though, I don’t know why I expected her to be cold, either.
A grin forms at her lips, and I can see the sharpened canines now.
“I’m just not used to were-people,” I say, slowly releasing her hand.
She has a mane of reddish-brown hair trailing down her back, and two ears poking through the nest. Final answer–a fox lady.
“I’m not,” she says, leaning forward and crossing both arms on the table.
I jump a little as a bushy tail with the same coloring as her hair rubs up against my thigh.
“Marla,” she introduces, reaching her hand across the table.
“Hiraeth,” I say, taking her hand. Her tail is still against my thigh, but I don’t hate it.
At all, actually.
There’s something comforting about it.
“Oh, we’re using fake names?” She asks, then in a deep, mocking voice, continues. “My name is Vulpane.”
I let out a shocked laugh, and her grin widens further.
“Arya,” I say, shooting a glance at Mary, but she hasn’t looked this way.
Why would she?
“Oh,” Marla says, and the tone of her voice grabs my attention immediately. “So, the rumors of The Dark One are true, then.”
She must see the way my face pales, because her grin turns softer. “Not to fear, Arya. If you’re done trying to get into another fight with the God Queen, would you care to walk with me?”
I look back to Mary’s booth tucked back in a clearly marked VIP section. She’s sitting with Bast and Morgana plus a few others I don’t recognize. At least she doesn’t hang out with Loki or Beowulf in her free time.
“Fuck it, why not?” I say, sliding out of my booth.
Marla reaches her hand up to me, and I can’t help the bubbled snort that escapes my throat. But I take it all the same, pulling her to her feet.
I glance down and notice she’s wearing shoes.
“No paws,” she says, a hint of mirth in her tone. “Follow me.”
She starts past me, and I catch a hint of earthen perfume that tickles at my nose. And I can’t help but notice the way her hips sway, and the way her tail sort of twitches along with it.
Only then do I catch orange irises looking my way.
Mary’s gaze locks onto mine, and I can feel the annoyance radiating across the room. Or maybe it’s just general disinterest. She looks at me as though I’m a simple bug.
Something to squash.
And, God, it’s fucking annoying.
Though I can’t help but want her attention.
“Coming?” Marla asks, and I realize she’s only a foot or so away, having turned when I didn’t join her.
She doesn’t look back at Mary, but I sense it might be more for self-preservation than ignorance.
“Yeah,” I say, winking at Mary and shooting her a snide grin.
Marla is quiet as we exit the small eating hall. It had been a real coincidence that Mary and her escort had joined soon after I’d started my dinner.
When we hit the central stone road, Marla continues further down the street. She turns, walking backwards to study me.
“You know, a lot of people–well, everyone is afraid of her. Rightfully so, actually.”
I shrug, noticing the way she nimbly navigates the uneven rock surfaces.
“She’s pissed me off,” I say, and nod to Marla’s feet. “You’re a fox, right?”
“What gave it way?” She asks, again giving me the toothy grin.
“I think the ears, though the tail was somewhat different.”
“We’re called Vultox. Don’t ask me why or where the name came from, I am but a simple member of my species.”
“It sounds suspiciously close to–”
“Don’t say it,” Marla groans, tilting her head back in exaggerated exasperation. “It’s why I’m enunciating everything.”
“Sorry,” I snort, noticing that on this end of the cavern, no one’s giving us weird looks. “It’s my lesbian brain.”
“Evidently,” she literally purrs, her pink tongue flicking at her teeth. “And no one’s going to give you trouble here, Arya. The only reason they were staring at you early on is because you’d been with the God Queen.”
“Not because I’m the Dark One?” I ask, and she simply snorts.
“Girl, the only reason people would be staring at you is because they’re insanely jealous.”
That stops me in my tracks, and Marla rolls her slitted eyes.
“Jealous?” I ask, incredulity evident in my voice.
Marla takes a step forward, her just slightly elongated nose and lips twitching with apparent humor.
“You’re a gorgeous, six-foot five powerhouse who has the attention of Bloody fucking Mary.
” Marla’s breath tickles my lips, her face only a few inches from mine, though I do have to look down.
“You may think you’re some terrible monster, but we’re all freaks down here.
In a few days, you’ll be just another one of the faces. ”
Her ever-present grin returns at my stunned expression.
“Normality is a precious commodity, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, and she takes a healthy step back, gesturing grandly to the neighborhood we’re in.
And I only now realize that we’re fully into the residential district Mary had mentioned before.
“Now, Arya,” Marla says, skipping a few steps before stopping at a gorgeous two story in the Western Alliance style. “We’re going to go meet my family and let you see the normal folk around here, yeah?”
“Your what?” I squeak, alarm bells ringing at the aspect of new people. But Marla only smiles, but this time it does seem a bit predatory.
Marla pushes into the door and disappears within. I hesitate at the base of the large wooden, wraparound deck. The house itself looks like a grand log cabin, which only further shoots pangs of bittersweet warmth through my chest.
Like Marla, there’s almost a natural normalcy to the structure. Like it exists and therefore is to be accepted.
“Arya if you keep lurking, I’ll unleash my daughter on you,” Marla’s voice comes from within, followed by a bark of feminine laughter that sounds like a different person.
Tentatively, I take the three steps and pause at the entrance to the home, letting out a small gasp.
It’s gorgeous on the inside, too. Not chic or minimalistic, like a lot of the “nice” apartments are in New Chicago, but lived in. It’s a home.
Something barrels into my thigh, and I look down to see a small foxlike child attached to my leg. Her little arms and legs wrapped around my knee and calf like I’m simply a tree to climb.
“Arya, dear,” another voice, this one a little deeper than Marla’s, trills through the door. “Please come in. Rey won’t let go until you do.”
I glance down at the child, Rey, but she seems to have also gotten the same memo. So, I sort of shuffle through the door, pulling it closed behind me.
The main room is a huge den area with a large plush sofa at the center. Behind it is a kitchen with a granite island. Across from the front door is a wooden staircase that ascends to a loft area with a few open doors.
At the kitchen stands Marla, looking a little chastised. Beside her, with an expression of both exasperation and adoration is another gorgeous foxlike woman.
“Uh,” I say, continuing to limp into the room with the child-sized attachment to my leg. “Hi?”
“Did my wife flirt with you?” The woman asks, and I blink quickly, glancing between the woman, Marla, and then the child.
God, I am an idiot.
Again.
“Uh,” I say, glancing again at Marla.
“I can’t help that I’m a natural flirt, Trish,” Marla groans, slumping forward onto the table with obvious dramatics.
“You can help the way you use that tail and flick that tongue,” Trish retorts, giving me a “what can you do” sort of look.
“You’re clearly scaring her, and I promised her some normalcy,” Marla says, scurrying forward to pry Rey off my leg.
The child lets out a very animalistic hiss but then clings to her mom instead.
“And she can have some normalcy,” Trish says, grinning at me. “Sit, dear.”
Numbly, I step forward and slide into one of the island stools.
“I’m Trish,” Trish says, offering her hand. “Short for Ontrish.”
I take her hand. “I’m Arya.”
“We know,” Trish says, a warm grin on her lupine face.
Unlike Marla, Trish looks more wolfish, though it might just be differences in their species. Her fur is darker, with a messy bob where Marla’s reddish mane is long and straight.
“Did she flirt with you, dear?” Trish asks, giving me a piercing look. “I’ve got to know how many jalapenos I put in her food tonight.”
“You wouldn’t,” Marla hisses, and I glance over to see her dangling Rey by the ankles.
The child seems to enjoy this because she’s giggling like it’s the funniest thing ever.
“She didn’t–” I begin, but Trish pins me with a terrifying mom-glare.
Which is funny, because I’ve never had a mom to glare at me. So, it must just be an evolutionary thing.
“You’re a platinum blonde bombshell, of course she did.”
“She did, yeah,” I say quickly.
“Iago,” Marla hisses, and I simply shrug.
“You led the poor girl on,” Trish says, flicking a perfectly manicured eyebrow at her wife.
“It’s actually not the first time this week,” I offer, and both women turn to look at me. “But at least Marla turned out to be gay.”
“Oh, honey,” Trish says, and the way she says it sounds genuinely compassionate–not pitying. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll dish out dinner.”
“You don’t–” I start, but Marla catches my eye, shaking her head emphatically.
“What’s for dinner–” A masculine voice trails from the stairs behind me but cuts off as footsteps hit the bottom step.
I turn in the seat and see a male Vultox. Or, at least, I assume male given the voice and general features. He looks a lot more foxlike, which only further makes him look like a predatory creature.
“Oh, shit,” he grunts, and Trish hisses.
“Language, Ty.”
“Sorry, Trish,” he says, bowing his head. “I didn’t realize we had company.”
“Your sister found a stray,” Trish says, pushing a plate of food onto the table beside me. “Take that to the table, dear.”
I glance over to where she’s gesturing and realize I’d missed a large dining table in the far corner of the kitchen. I suppose the sight of a loving family had distracted me.
Dutifully, I make my way to the table, taking the seat furthest from the others. Trish and Marla sit across from each other, with Rey being slotted in the highchair at the end.
Ty takes the chair beside Marla, sitting closest to me at the six-chair table.
“Now,” Trish begins, putting a plate of cut up food in front of the child. “Tell us why you have beef with Bloody Mary.”