4. Bree
After plopping the mop back into the yellow bucket, I wheeled the ancient contraption over to the wall and stuck my head in Frankie’s office. Although, it was more of an oversized closet than an office. There was enough room for a desk, a small fridge, and not much else.
“Hey Frankie, I have to bail Rissa out again. She promised three cleanings to make up for it. Don’t let me forget to cash in, okay?”
My boss chuckled and glanced at me over her bright pink reading glasses. She was like the fifty-something-year-old woman who refused to get bifocals even though she desperately needed them. Except she was fae so she would never need them. “Not that you’ll need the reminder, but sure thing, kid. Oh, and next time? Try sayin’ no.”
Frankie knew as well as I did how hard it was to say no to my little sister. It was a magic Marissa held over everyone she met and had absolutely nothing to do with being a siren.
I nodded and rushed toward the basement door, marked by a bright red “Do Not Enter sign.” Since I was in a hurry, I shoved the door open and jumped over the handrail rather than take the five steps leading down to the basement floor.
The layout was more of a split-level than basement, but the whole building sat on the side of a hill, which meant most of the lower level was underground. Our space was nothing fancy—a far cry from the luxurious life we used to know.
Two cots, mine covered with books and Marissa’s littered with clothes, were pushed against opposite walls. Two plastic bins sat beside each cot, acting as both dressers and nightstands and overflowing with our meager belongings.
A curtain provided a false sense of privacy for our bathroom, which contained little more than a shower, pedestal sink, and a toilet that clogged constantly. We could always use the locker room upstairs, but sometimes a girl needed a toilet to call her own.
The walk-up back door provided us with an escape route if needed, like those times when I didn’t want to stop and chat with gym members on my way to the grocery store. Although it mostly served as Marissa’s way of sneaking in and out after hours.
No windows, frequent leaks, and banging pipes made the open room Rissa and I called home feel like a basement—or even a dungeon. But we didn’t complain. Not outside this room, anyway. Ten years ago, after finding me about to steal fish from a human vendor, Frankie offered us a place to live without hesitation.
Growing up in an underwater palace and society without having to worry about money hadn’t given us the education needed to survive on land, especially since our father despised humankind. But I was a quick learner—unless it came to electronics—and determined to stay, so I’d accepted Frankie’s offered hospitality.
Plus, we had nowhere else to go.
Frankie lived above the gym in a one-bedroom apartment that cost just shy of an arm and a leg each month. It provided us with a communal kitchen whenever a microwave wouldn’t do. Her place was too small to sleep three people comfortably long-term and stank of decades worth of cigarette smoke.
The basement was the next best option, and over the years, we’d made it our own. Multicolored string lights gave the space a cozy feel, and various pictures and framed motivational quotes covered the walls.
I rummaged through the plastic bin that acted as my sister’s dresser and pulled out one of her clean massage school uniforms. Since I had no time for a shower, I whipped on some deodorant, changed, and gathered up her equipment—a fold-up massage table and a bag full of things like towels, candles, and oils.
With everything in hand, I glanced forlornly at the book waiting on my pillow. The cover had fallen off before I’d gotten my hands on it at the used bookstore, and the pages were yellowing and dog-eared from previous owners.
Despite the book’s ragged appearance, the author had crafted an amazing story I struggled to put down each night. I was so close to finding out whether the thief and agent defied the odds and fell in love by the end, but that answer would have to wait until later.
Oh, who was I kidding? It was a romance, of course they’d get together.
But the tension was to die for.
Snapping myself out of the wistful daydream, I rushed toward the basement’s back door. Movement in my periphery stopped me short, and I grimaced. I couldn’t believe I’d almost forgotten to tell Finley where I was headed.
At the surface of a fish tank—one of the few material items I ever spent money on—an axolotl bobbed his head up and down. Finley was a luminara axolotl, a rare species of salamander with magical abilities, and this particular little fellow had followed Marissa and me from home despite my command to stay.
I thanked Tethys every day he had disobeyed.
Opalescent scales that shimmered like moonlit pearls covered the creature’s slender form, casting an ethereal glow in the aquarium waters. His iridescent skin transitioned seamlessly through a myriad of colors, from lustrous blues and purples to delicate shades of silver and gold, as if reflecting the enchantments of the mystical realm his species came from.
Intricate patterns decorated his body, dancing and shifting with every movement. They were ancient arcane symbols that wove tales of forgotten secrets and wisdom of ages past. On either side of his head, fringed, pearlescent pink gills fluttered like gossamer ribbons and highlighted his pale blue eyes.
He was the most adorable thing to ever exist on this planet, I was sure of it.
“Sorry, Finley.” I stroked his slick skin with a fingertip. “I have to leave you behind today, but I’ll be back soon.”
The axolotl tilted his head, fluttering his gills with apparent disappointment. He let out a soft, melodic sound that conveyed his longing to join me.
“I know, buddy,” I said with a sympathetic smile. “But this is an appointment I can’t miss and you can’t come to. It’s important for Marissa. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Finley blinked his large, round eyes and gave a small nod, understanding my words. He dove into the water and seaweed and playfully wiggled his tail, trying to lighten the mood.
“Behave while I’m gone, okay?” Smiling at his antics, I gave him a little wave. “No causing chaos or messing with Frankie’s things. We don’t want to piss her off do we?”
The axolotl gazed up at me with an adorably innocent expression, as if to assure me that he would be on his best behavior. I longed for the days when we could communicate telepathically underwater, but I knew he would stay put. As long as I promised to always come back.
“I’ll bring you a treat when I get home. Maybe some of those delectable water bugs you love so much.”
With that, I high-tailed it out the back door. The massage table was portable, but it was also much larger than a purse and unwieldy, not to mention heavy. I winced as the table bounced off the door frame with a bang and hoped I hadn’t done any damage to it.
The door, that is, because I’d have to pay to fix it and funds were limited enough as it was. Marissa could deal with any fallout from any damaged equipment. It was her fault I was involved in this mess.
As I took the steps up to street level two at a time, I glanced at my watch. Twenty-four minutes to go. I could make it in twenty minutes easy without all this extra baggage weighing me down.
Downtown D.C. during springtime was a busy place. Add in the hulking massage table thrown over my shoulder and I was a walking wrecking ball. The damn thing thumped against my back and legs the whole way, sure to give me more than a few bruises.
Thanks a lot, Riss.
Most people scurried out of my way as soon as they saw me coming. Those who didn’t move yelled at me after I knocked into them. I ignored them like any other respectable D.C. citizen would do. These were the hazards of living in a city.
When I was forced to stop at a busy red light, a prickling sensation crawled across the back of my neck. It had become more common in recent days, making me feel like I was being watched.
I mean, lots of people were around who might be looking my way, but this was a more direct feeling. Almost sinister.
I glanced over my shoulder, but, just like all the other times, no one out of the ordinary stood out. You would think that the longer we were away from home, the less I would worry about our father finding us, dragging us back, and selling us off like prized cattle.
Unfortunately, my nerves had only gotten worse over the past ten years. Our luck had to be running out by now.
As soon as the light turned green, I hustled across the street and followed my phone’s map directions to the building in question. I squinted up at the sign. This was one of the nicest condo buildings in the city. Maybe the nicest for all I knew. I wasn’t rich anymore and never on land, so clamshells if I knew.
I yanked open the glass door and nearly ran into a nicely dressed couple about to exit. They stepped back as I struggled through the door. Except sudden resistance wrenched me back and threatened to dislodge my shoulder—the table had gotten stuck in the frame.
Muttering a few colorful obscenities I’d learned over the years at the gym, I turned the massage table so it could fit through the door. The couple exchanged a knowing, condescending look before exiting.
No, no, please don’t worry about me, I thought with an eye roll. I wouldn’t want you to break a nail or something by helping the help.
I ran up to the check-in counter completely out of breath.
A white-haired woman with leathery, tanned skin stared down her nose at me and raised an equally white eyebrow. “May I help you?”
“Br—Marissa Johnson… Here…for appointment… Number 2015. Nine o’clock,” I said in gulping puffs.
Of course, Johnson was just a fake last name we’d chosen years ago. Our kind didn’t need more than one name but paperwork on land demanded it.
Her shrewd gaze flicked to the computer screen and then back to me. “You’re ten minutes late.”
You know what? I changed my mind. Punching babies was for the weak. I wanted to brawl with a shark or a dragon, something that could fight back.
I pointed to the three elevators. “So, should I just go up then?”
The receptionist held up a bony finger and pressed a button on the computer. After a moment, she said, “Ms. Johnson is here for an appointment.”
No one else was around, so I assumed—and hoped—she had on earbuds I couldn’t see.
“Yes, sir.” She pursed her lips, then typed something into the computer. One of the elevator doors dinged and opened. “He’s waiting for you.”
As much as I tried to understand human world technology, I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it all. How did a little machine make an elevator work like magic? Their wires didn’t even connect anywhere.
By the time I clambered into the lift, I was a sweaty, swampy mess. The shiny steel walls reflected my face as well as a mirror, and I muttered at my flushed skin and the dark red frizz refusing to obey the hair spray around my hairline.
It was early spring, which meant snow was still possible despite the increasing warmth. Yet here I was, drenched in sweat, heading to one of Marissa’s VIP clients.
Fabulous.
The receptionist’s voice called out as the elevator door started to close, “I wouldn’t recommend being late again. He doesn’t appreciate having to wait.”
Rolling my eyes for the second time in less than five minutes, which might have been a new record for me, I glanced at the rows of buttons. No one appreciated waiting, myself included. I realized I didn’t know where I was headed. “What floor?”
The button for the penthouse was already lit.
As the door slid shut and the elevator whirred with movement, I let out a small groan. Of course the super-important client would own the penthouse. How silly of me not to realize that sooner.
I wiped my clammy palms against my pants. This was such a bad idea. I wasn’t a masseuse, not even a real student. The little that I knew came from getting massages from Marissa and covering for her a handful of times.
I didn’t even know who this client was, but they were sure to know I was a phony.
Maybe I could pretend to trip and twist my ankle or something…
The elevator dinged, interrupting my thoughts, and the doors slid open again. My eyebrows shot toward my hairline.
Holy coconuts, Catwoman.