Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Hailey
This was madness. I stood in the elevator between Otis and Louis, and I desperately wanted to know what kinds of creatures they were, but it was rude to ask. Intensity radiated off Otis in waves, and it took everything inside me to hold still in the tiny metal cube we were currently trapped in.
On the other hand, Louis leaned against the wall, the picture of relaxation. “So, Hailey, lived here long?”
I glanced at him. “Uh, just over a year now.”
The elevator doors slid open, and I rushed out. I stepped up to my apartment and avoided the eyes peering out from other apartments. This complex held three types of people—the poor, the desperate, and the bad. I didn’t know which category Eric fit into, but I ticked at least two of the three.
“What do you do for work?” Louis continued conversationally as they watched me unlock the door. Otis frowned, probably noticing the fact that my door was much the same as the one he’d just obliterated upstairs, which reminded me…
“Will someone replace Eric’s door? The people here are, uh, opportunists.”
Otis stared down at me. “Syke put a seal on his door. No creature or human will ever make it through the doorway until he drops it.” He raised a single eyebrow, and I realized he was waiting for an answer to Louis’s question.
“Oh, I’m a waitress at a diner about eight blocks over.
I start early and finish late, which is why I catch the bus with Eric. ”
They had another one of their unspoken conversations. “The Creature Crisis Center can pay you for any missed work while you help us surrogate for Eric. We should be able to get him a proper surrogate clan within a couple of days. Will that be okay with your boss?”
I bit my lip. I could call out sick, pretend I had some kind of flesh-eating virus.
Reggie would probably be okay if I took a day off, just so I didn’t wipe out the rest of the waitstaff.
“I’ll make it work.” It was already my weekend off, though they tended to call me in for those too.
Maybe this whole thing would be over before I even needed to resort to lies.
I disappeared into the bedroom, stuffing a couple changes of clothes into a tote, as well as my toothbrush, deodorant, and hairbrush. If Louis was some kind of creature that could scent sickness, then I bet morning breath must be unbearable.
When I reappeared, Otis was still standing like a statue in the middle of my living room, but Louis was walking around and looking at my meager life spread throughout my apartment—the thrift store paintings I’d lovingly collected, and a bunch of flowers in an old milk jug, also thrifted.
He stopped at the antique teapot I used regularly. He lifted it, inhaling deeply. “This is lead. You should stop using it.”
I raised my eyebrows but nodded, and Otis cleared his throat. “Are you ready? We should move. Eric looked rough.”
That had my feet moving toward the door. I locked up, though the incredulous look on Louis’s face made me feel like it was completely redundant. Sometimes a locked door was enough of a deterrent. Not often, but it was better than nothing.
“I’ll send Syke to seal your door also,” Otis rumbled, and I gave him a grateful smile, even though the idea of a demon in my living room, doing fuck knew what, freaked me out.
The elevator groaned as it descended to floor level, and honestly, I was surprised it had been able to hold all four of them earlier.
Sometimes, it could barely hold me and a full granny cart of groceries.
I breathed a sigh of relief when it made it to ground level, but the large van idling outside the doors made me pause.
The windows were blacked out, and it was huge, which I guess it would need to be to hold them all.
However, it looked like every abducted from the street by outlaws vehicle I’d ever seen.
Was I about to go missing and I was too stupid to be suspicious?
I hadn’t even really asked them for IDs.
Subtly pulling my phone from my pocket, I took a photo of the plate number and sent it to one of the other waitresses from the restaurant, one I knew wouldn’t narc that I wasn’t actually sick when I called in.
Me: If I’m not back in a few days, call the cops.
I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and stood beside the open rear door. I could see the big guy, Ilyas, still holding Eric against his chest. Eric was big too, at least a few inches over six feet and fit, but in Ilyas’s arms, he looked fragile.
I climbed in beside them, and Ilyas lowered Eric’s face into my lap. As if he knew my scent, Eric turned and burrowed his nose into the softness of my stomach.
I looked up at Ilyas with wide eyes. Even the lines of his face were hard. His jaw was sharp and square, and his eyes were the color of a moonless night, with small flashes of gold flickering in their depths.
I couldn’t breathe, let alone look away.
“Ilyas,” Otis grunted, and the guy beside me ripped his eyes from mine to look out the window. Jesus Christ, what had I gotten myself into?
We sped through the streets, and I found myself absently running my fingers through Eric’s jet-black hair.
It was unwashed, much like the rest of him, but it was surprisingly free of snarls and tangles.
He had it close cut at the sides, with a little more length on the top, and it accentuated his high cheekbones and the fullness of his lips around his small tusks.
He was handsome. I’d noticed that as soon as he’d moved into his apartment and we started getting on the elevator at the same time every morning.
I wasn’t sure what he did for work, but he wore a suit that was obviously tailored, because it sat perfectly on his broad shoulders and hugged his thighs just as snuggly.
He looked well off, which was why I didn’t understand why he lived in a shithole like our apartment building.
He looked a little better already, his washed-out features warming to the soft green of his normal complexion, but he still didn’t open his eyes, and he seemed to be shaking beneath the blankets.
The car ride was quiet and tense. No one spoke. There were just the soft sounds of Eric’s breathing and the steady thump of my heartbeat in my ears. When we pulled into the business district before turning into a parking garage underneath a nondescript building, I knew we’d arrived.
There’d been a lot of violence when creatures initially revealed themselves.
Bigfoot hunters cheered, finally vindicated, but mostly, people were angry and scared—or angry because they were scared.
The violence was before I was born, but it had left an indelible mark on the city, and also on the way creatures had integrated into society.
None of their public offices had signs out front, so they couldn’t be targeted.
There were areas of the country where creatures still didn’t go, fearing for their lives, but it was getting more and more progressive, which gave me hope for the future.
There was a new waitress at my work who was a serpentine, which was some kind of snake shifter, and she was great.
She had excellent plate carrying skills and a laugh that was loud and infectious.
Her name was Laaniel. She was sweet, and it was a considerable step forward that my boss, Reggie, even hired a creature.
A lot of people were still prejudiced against them.
I didn’t care as long as she worked hard, but not all my coworkers felt the same, and I hated that.
They pulled up to a reserved spot, and I saw several other big cars just like the one we were riding in. As soon as we stopped, Ilyas scooped Eric up into his arms like he was a child and not a full-grown, very large orc.
I was desperate to know what kind of creatures they all were, but it was considered impolite to ask, and if they took it the wrong way, I could end up as someone’s dinner.
Louis opened the door, assisting Ilyas to maneuver Eric out of the vehicle. The elevator they stepped into was at least four times the size of the one in my apartment building, and it barely even shifted as everyone boarded.
“This is the headquarters of the Central Valley Creature Crisis Center,” Louis explained. “We have rooms set up for creatures who are in need of a place to stay, but it doesn’t happen often.”
We stepped out into a room filled with computers and phones. There was a large map of Central Valley beside a wall of books or maybe manuals. Filing cabinets and cubicles cluttered the rest of the space, and honestly, it looked like any other open plan office.
Placing a soft hand on my lower back, Louis directed me down a hall that veered off from the main office.
It opened into what could only be a living area.
Big, comfy couches sat before a large industrial kitchen and a countertop that had seven stools tucked beneath it.
This was definitely where they relaxed while on shift.
We walked through that area and into yet another hallway, only this one was lined with doors.
Ilyas stopped, and Otis leaned around him to open the door.
The room was small, but the bed was a double. The walls were painted a soft gray color, and the linen was lush. There was one small window that cast some soft light into the room. It was cozy but uncluttered, like a blank slate for whomever might need it, or a hotel room.
Ilyas laid Eric down on top of the blankets, and Syke moved forward, placing his fingers on his temples again.
“He’s not as critical as he was when we found him, but he is still hanging on by a thread.
I’d suggest close contact therapy for at least forty-eight hours.
” His tone was emotionless, but when he looked at me, a shudder crawled down my spine.
His eyes were empty and threatening all at once, like my hindbrain knew I should run from the predator in front of me, but I wasn’t a slave to my instincts, so I held firm.
Otis sighed. “I messaged Amoranze on the way here. The surrogate clan is down south attending to teen abandonment, and they can’t get here for another week at least. It’ll have to be us, I think.”
Louis sighed. “There goes our week off.” He started taking off his clothes, and
I gaped in shock as he peeled off his uniform until he stood in his boxer shorts. “I’ll take the first shift.”
Ilyas cleared his throat. “The girl should get in too.”
I glanced at him. His voice was deep and rough, like gravel in a tumble dryer. Otis didn’t even twitch an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t think it’s just clan sickness the orc is suffering from. I think he’s suffering from mate sickness.” He looked down at me with those starlight eyes. “And I think this one is his mate.”