by Amy Sumida
I stopped walking and turned to face him.
“How about a drink?” He offered with a wave of his hand toward the nearest establishment.
The establishment happened to be a bar called The Wilds; my favorite hangout due to several reasons but the top one being that I was raised in it. My foster father owned the bar, and I didn't want to bring the Triari there during one of his busiest times of night.
“I'd rather not,” I said disdainfully.
“Too classy for a bar?” He asked with a grin.
“Too tired, darling,” I corrected. “How about a coffee instead?” I indicated a diner across the street.
Mama's Diner—affectionately referred to as Mama Mutant's Diner—was situated perfectly; as most businesses in the Market were. More often than not, supes would go drinking at The Wilds and then stumble across the street to gobble down some greasy nourishment before they headed home to sleep it off.
“Coffee is fine,” the Arc agreed.
We waited for a break in traffic and then crossed the road. The main door jingled merrily when the Triari pushed it open for me, and Mama looked up from her perch behind the front counter. She smiled brightly when she saw me and wobbled off her stool. The wet sound of tentacles hitting linoleum carried over to us and then a sucking, popping followed as Mama met us halfway across the diner. As soon as she was beyond the cover of the counter, the origin of the noises—and of the nickname for the diner—became apparent; Mama was from the Evolved category of supernatural. She had the upper body of a middle-aged woman but halfway down her thighs, her legs turned into thick tentacles. Make Ursula jokes at your own risk.
“Amara, sweetie!” Mama exclaimed as she gave me a hug. “Who have you brought in tonight?” She looked the Triari up and down and sighed. “Triari, eh? That's—” she cut herself off with a blank look.
“That's what?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She laughed a little forcibly. “Nothing, sweets. I was just trying to remember what we had on special tonight. You two make yourselves comfy in a booth. I'll grab some menus.”
She hurried back to the 50's soda-shop counter, and I frowned from her to the Triari. The Arc shrugged and went to sit in one of the few open booths at the end of the line of windows. The other patrons eyed him warily as they hovered over their bowls of Mulligatawny soup, slabs of meatloaf, and piles of smothered chicken. That tiny lapel pin might as well have been two feet tall; it was spotted that quickly. Everyone there instantly knew that this wasn't someone to mess with, and they already knew that about me. The two of us together must have been truly unsettling.
The thought made me smile; it wasn't often that the Supermarket was unsettled by me.
“You're looking chipper,” the Triari noted as I slid onto the squeaky, red, vinyl bench across from him.
“Here you go, my sweetlings,” Mama said as she plopped down the laminated menus with her hands and the coffee cups with her tentacles.
Nimble things; those tentacles. Mama could walk on a bent section while using the tips to do other things. She always said that she wished she had more of them. Personally, I was grateful that I could pass for human. It made venturing out of the Market a lot easier, and the same could be said for gaining employment. Supes like Mama had to either find ways to mask their mutations or find work in the Market.
“We've got roast beef for tonight's special,” Mama said with a concerned look my way. “I'll give you a few minutes to decide.”
“Thanks, Mama,” I said absently as I pushed the menu away and looked up at the Triari; I already knew the menu by heart. “Now, who are you, and what do you want with me?”
“Can I at least decide on my meal first?” He asked as he perused the menu.
“I said yes to coffee, not cuisine.” I huffed out an annoyed breath and added cream and sugar to my coffee.
I sipped the warm brew; tapping my toe irritably on the linoleum floor. My gaze wandered out the window to where a pile a cloth seemed to be gliding by. It shifted and a little moon-face smiled up at me from the depths of a hood; pale and round. Erin waved her tiny hand at me before she set it to the pavement and pushed herself along on her skateboard. I fluttered my fingers back at her just as a breeze blew the sides of her jacket apart and revealed her spring-like lower half. Erin bounced on the curls of her legs—gaining momentum from the motion—and giggled as she sped along the sidewalk. I admired her and the others like her; those who were able to rejoice in their differences. Most of the time, mine just made me feel isolated.
“My name is Kyrian,” the Triari finally said as he set down the menu, “and I'm here because of your father.”
I frowned and flinched. “My father is dead. He died years ago; along with my mother.”
Kyrian nodded as if that confirmed something for him. “He was a scientist, correct?”
“So?”
“Do you know who your father was, Amaranthine?” He asked with the cold levelness of his kind.
“You get the fuck away from her, Tri-man,” a grating voice came from behind me; accompanied by the cocking of a shotgun.
No one ran for the doors at the sound of the gun; no one moved at all. They just watched the drama unfold with gleeful fascination. Leonard, who took up an entire booth with his flab folds (he was like a human Shar-Pei), was jiggling with anticipation. It wasn't often that there was a reason to wield a human weapon in the Market, and if a gun was going to be used, the supes wanted to be there to see it.
“What are you doing?” I hissed at Landry in shock.
“Mama called me,” my foster father said evenly. “Said you were here with an Arc.”
“Why does that warrant a shotgun?” I asked in a clipped tone.
“I'm not here to harm her,” Kyrian said calmly; as if there wasn't a weapon pointed at his head. “The opposite, in fact. Amara is in danger, and I've been sent to protect her.”
“Bull fucking shit,” Landry bit out each word. “Get up, Mar, and back away from the Arc. Don't take your eyes off him either; they're tricky bastards.”
I stood immediately; if there was anyone I trusted implicitly in this world, it was Landry.
“Amara, I really am here to help,” Kyrian assured me.
“I don't need any help, thank you very much,” I said as I slipped behind Landry's bulk.
My foster father was an evolved like me. You know how they'll say that someone is as strong as a tree? Well, that saying fit Landry to a T. He was solid and thick, with rough, bark-like skin covering nearly his entire body. His fingers creaked as he tightened them on the trigger, but not because of age. Landry's whole body creaked when he moved, and when he decided to make a stand, he practically put down roots; no one could budge him.
“Now, you're gonna sit there and have your coffee like a nice, civilized Triari and then you're gonna fly your shiny ass out of my Market, you got that?” Landry said to the angel.
“That's not happening, Mr. Ash,” Kyrian said. He took a sip of his coffee before he continued. “Amara can refuse my help, but that won't stop me from watching over her. If you would permit me five minutes to explain, I think you'd see that it's for the best.”
“You got five seconds,” Landry said.
“The Bleiten are coming for her,” Kyrian said concisely.
Nearly everyone stood up at once and rushed out of the diner.
I sent Landry a horrified look, but he kept his steady stare on Kyrian. I'll refer you back to my earlier description of the Bleiten and how they weren't as nice as the Triari; generally speaking. But, there's a bit more to it than that. The Bleiten are the opposite of the Triari; they use their emotions as a source of power instead of suppressing them. It must work because they're some of the strongest, fiercest warriors in all the worlds, and are relentless conquerors. These were not people you wanted to piss off, or even slightly annoy.
Years ago, the Bleiten got into a tiff with the Triari over a planet they both wanted to inhabit. The planet was devoid of higher life
but abounded with natural resources; a rare prize indeed. Thousands of lives were lost on both sides before it was discovered that the planet's environment was tainted. The air was toxic to both Bleiten and Triari; neither race could live on the planet. The wars had been for nothing. All those wasted lives and the wasted wealth prompted a grudge that literally bled out over the other alien races and then onto Earth. So far, the Bleiten were ahead.
“Why would the Bleiten be after me?” I tried to sound skeptical, but my voice trembled.
Kyrian narrowed his gaze at me and then transferred it to Landry. “You didn't tell her?”
Landry's jaw creaked as he clenched his teeth.
“Landry?” I asked in confusion.
“Later, kid,” Landry growled. “I didn't think you needed to know. I damn sure didn't think the Triari or the Bleiten would come looking for you.”
“She does need to know—now.” Kyrian tapped the table with an imperious fingertip. “They're already here. It's only a matter of time before they find her.”
“I've hidden her well,” Landry said. “You only found us because you knew where to start looking.”
“And you think they don't?” Kyrian lifted a brow. “All they need to do is find that house.”
“The house is long gone,” Landry countered.
“But her scent is soaked into the earth.” Kyrian cocked his head at my foster father. “You should have realized that.”
“That earth is scorched,” Landry hissed. “Her scent was burned away like everything else.”
“She didn't burn like everything else,” Kyrian protested. “Her scent is fresh.”
“Impossible,” Landry spat the word. “Even for her.”
“I have visited the site; I assure you that it's there,” Kyrian said.
“Fuck!” Landry hissed. “It can't be.”
“I don't like the sound of this,” I muttered. “Not any of it.”
“Me either, sweetie,” Mama said. “Land, you'd best get our girl out of DC.”
Landry grimaced and nodded.
“I'm not going anywhere,” I said firmly. “I've made a good life for myself here, and I'm not running away from it because some flippant, flying fucker says the Bleiten are after me.”
“There's no point in leaving,” Kyrian said before Landry could start arguing with me. “They'll find her. Better to make a stand.”
“Against the Bleiten?” Mama scoffed. “Only a Triari would say that. Amara, honey, you don't understand yet, but your daddy was an important man, and you're special. You gotta run. You can't let them get a hold of you.”
My heartbeat started to speed up. “What are you talking about?”
“If they have her scent, why ain't they here?” Landry suddenly challenged Kyrian.
“I never said that they had it,” Kyrian corrected him. “I said they could get it.”
“Then there isn't a problem,” Landry declared as he lowered the shotgun. “I'll just have the land burned again; better this time.”
“You're going to burn bare dirt?” Kyrian asked with interest.
“I know a guy,” Landry said as he took my hand. “Come on, kid. I expect we're about to have the sort of conversation that requires alcohol instead of caffeine.”
Chapter Two
The Wilds wasn't your average bar. Oh, it had all the trappings of a normal, working man's, watering hole. There was the requisite bar with its lines of bottles set with military precision on shelves behind it, the solid wood tables that were scarred from heavy drinking and heavy brawling, and a sound system that had seen better days. But that's where the normal ended. Those bottles were filled with alien alcohol and the mixers were things that most humans wouldn't be able to pronounce, much less consume. Supernaturals congregated at the tables in their full glory—no masks or illusions to hide them—and the music was literally out of this world.
Then there was the bar's owner. Landry Ash was of the Evolved class of supernatural; a class I had thought I was also a part of. But if I was correctly understanding what he was saying to me, it seemed that I wasn't evolved at all.
“My father was Triari?” I asked Landry for the second time.
“Drink this, kid,” Landry said gruffly as he slid a shot of penbruth across the bar to me.
Penbruth was the strongest liquor Landry stocked, and it was the only stuff that could keep me drunk longer than three minutes. In addition to my color-superpowers, I also had amazingly fast healing. That was usually a good thing, but when I wanted to get drunk, it could pose a problem.
I shot the liquor and then narrowed my eyes at Landry. “Not only am I Triari, but I'm also an experiment?”
“You're not an experiment,” Landry huffed in irritation. “You know about that shit with Tuburo?”
“The planet the Triari fought the Bleiten over.” I nodded.
“Well, after they found out it was toxic as all fuck, your father was asked to make a vaccine,” Landry said. “The high muckity mucks told him to get in his lab and come up with something that would make the Triari immune to the poisonous environment.”
“Immune?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Landry grimaced.
“Did he?”
“Yeah.”
“That couldn't have ended well,” I whispered.
“It worked too well, actually,” Landry said. “When your dad tried it out on samples of living tissue, the vaccine made them immune to everything; including death. It wasn't really a vaccine at all, but a potion. One drink of the stuff would speed up cellular and tissue regeneration to the point where it became difficult to spot the damage before it was healed. Wounds closed as they were made, skin thickened, and any toxins introduced to the body were destroyed immediately.”
“He made an immortality elixir?” I asked; dropping my voice even lower.
“You got it, kid.” Landry sighed deeply; his chest creaking. “Thank goodness it was your father's creation; he had a way of looking at things from all angles, and he saw the downside of immortality. As luck would have it, the Triari King agreed with him. He told your father to destroy the elixir and burn his research. The planet Tuburo and the elixir made to colonize it were both abandoned.”
“Okay.” I scowled. “So, how did my father get here?”
“Well, your daddy was a wicked smart man,” Landry said with a sad smile. “The Bleiten knew that.”
“They found out about the elixir?”
“That they did,” Landry confirmed. “And they set out to get it from your father; by any means.”
“They assumed that he'd remember how to make the elixir,” I concluded.
Landry nodded. “The Triari King sent your dad into hiding here on Earth. Then he met Laura, your mother, and they got married. Your dad, Mama, and I had become friends before Laura came into the picture, and after Jetek met her, we all became close. We were overjoyed when Laura got pregnant; especially your father.”
“Pass the bottle,” I murmured.
Landry slid the penbruth over, and I poured myself another shot.
“The first eight years were great,” Landry went on. “You were a bright kid; not just bright—genius. Your father was so proud of you; you'd obviously inherited his epic intelligence. You said your first words at three months, Mar. Full sentences a month later. Languages have never been a problem for you; all you had to do was hear one spoken, and you learned it.”
“Yes; I like words,” I murmured.
“But then you started slurring those words,” Landry said grimly. “The human doctors found cancer in your brain.”
“What?” I gaped at him.
“Your parents were devastated,” Landry said. “Your mother cried for days. The doctors—both human and supe—said there was no hope for you; you had a month—tops.”
“Cancer?” I muttered as memories of white rooms and people in white coats surfaced.
“Your dad; he mixed up a fresh batch of that elixir,” Landry whispered.
“No,�
�� I said. “No way.”
“He gave it to you, Amara,” Landry said. “He made you immortal.”
“Immortal?” I scoffed. “Do I look eight-years-old to you? If I were immortal, I wouldn't age.”
“The stuff was made for Triaries,” he went on. “But you're only half Triari. Jetek assumed that was the reason it worked differently with you. You healed a little slower than his tests had predicted, and there was a major side-effect.”
“The colors,” I whispered.
“The colors,” he confirmed. “Despite the slight reduction on your healing rate, it was still rapid; the cancer was gone in minutes. Your parents were concerned that you might remain a child—just as you said—but you aged normally. I've been watching you carefully, kid. You matured into an adult normally, then you exhibited minor changes until you hit twenty-three, but after that, you simply stopped. Fifteen years; that's all you had to grow.”
“I... no. This isn't possible.”
“Look in the mirror, kid,” he huffed. “You ever see a thirty-four-year-old woman with a face like yours? Hell, you ever see someone close a wound in ten seconds?”
I frowned. “I thought it was my mutation; thicker skin or something.”
“You aren't Evolved, sweetheart; you're Alien and Transformed.”
“A hybrid?” I asked in shock. “Two things I thought I wasn't.”
“Jetek used to say that he had cursed you,” Landry muttered.
“My father said that?” I asked. “Why?”
“Because he named you after that bloody elixir,” Landry explained. “The Amaranthine Elixir; that's what they called it. Jetek said he couldn't stop himself from naming you Amaranthine as well. It was such a beautiful word, and it meant everlasting; a mystical flower that never fades. But it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
