Science Fiction and Fantasy Box Set 1: The Squishies Series

by Claire Chilton

  She turned around to encounter Bob, uncovered for once and glowing bright orange. He was grinning at her.

  “Hi, Bob,” she said as she sat back down.

  He nodded a greeting before joining her at the table.

  “How’s things?” she asked.

  “You know,” he said, winking conspiratorially. “Bit o’ this, bit o’ that. Actually, you might be able to do me a favor, darlin’,” he said. “I need a bit of assistance gaining entry to Foamy Mansion.”

  She considered his request. It was something to do instead of sitting here and waiting to be stood up. She also knew it was stupid and would no doubt lead to trouble, but she was driven by anger and recklessness. Doing something, no matter how stupid, had to be better than sitting here and doing nothing.

  “Alright, you tell me why you want to get in there, and I’ll help you get in,” she said as her spoon finally made it through the mud coffee and clinked against the porcelain coffee cup.

  He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before wincing in defeat.

  “Okay, I heard there’s some illegal artifacts hidden in it. Things this world ain’t never seen,” he said. As always, his proclamation was secretive and overly-dramatic with the facts carefully removed from every sentence, but she was anxious for some activity. All she’d done lately was research and sit around waiting for other people. She felt the need for some action, to do something that had an effect.

  Screw waiting around for some guy who probably wouldn’t show up, she needed to do something before it was too late for her brother. Maybe Bob’s treasure would hold some answers.

  “Okay. What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  The killer stood in the dark alley and watched the fellow Rhecknaw beside him. The Rhecknaw was a fool and a traitor to his kind, but he would make a good patsy.

  Things were going better than he’d planned. Not only had he disposed of the meddling Chancellor with relative ease, he was now palming off the getaway car on this idiot.

  He’d originally planned to frame the sneaky orange git he’d stolen the car from in the first place. After all, who’d believe a Kalamarian? However, this was much better. A Rhecknaw outlaw who’d poisoned Derobmi was perfect for taking the fall.

  The killer smiled kindly at Cole and handed over the car keys. Things were beginning to change and every part of his plan was falling effortlessly into place.

  Soon, soon…

  Parklon rested his head on the bars of his cell. He was physically and mentally exhausted. He’d just had too much action lately.

  After being read his rights, he’d been questioned seven times, roughed up in the car on the way to the Warden Station and had been reduced to wrestling his dinner off the guard. Although to be fair, the Derobmi version of police violence mainly consisted of having the end of your nose flicked on several occasions, and the green salad dinner hadn’t been particularly appetizing or worth the wrestle.

  He shook his head, trying to shake off the feeling of doom. He was stuck in a cell, charged with a crime he didn’t commit, and he’d missed meeting up with Carla.

  Not that Carla is important to me, he quickly told himself before he felt the urge to carve her name on the prison wall.

  The problem with Derobmi prisons was they were too damn cheery. Choruses of campfire songs being sung gaily by the brightly-clad prisoners could be heard at all times of the day. Cheery and colorful murals of sunny days and rainbows decorated every single wall, and helpful therapists kept dropping by for a ‘friendly chat’. It was enough to drive an innocent man insane.

  Over the last seven hours, the only thing that had kept him going was an image of Carla storming in, her black hair flying behind her like demonic tendrils, and her purple skin glowing with defiance as she blew through the prison walls like the force of nature she was.

  As time slipped by, he began to believe she’d never come for him. The prospect of listening to another campfire song was enough to make him manically depressed. He sighed and stared at the door through brightly-painted bars.

  Where is she?

  Carla glanced back, trying to untangle herself from one of the spikes at the top of the six-foot fence, which surrounded Foamy Mansion. Her jeans were caught on one of the spikes.

  “Come on,” Bob whispered urgently from inside the grounds.

  She glanced down to find him stood beneath her, looking up and scowling.

  “It’s stuck,” she hissed back as she gave the back of her jeans a hard tug.

  There was a ripping sound before she felt her jeans loosen. She plummeted onto a surprised Bob, landing on him with an, “oof!”

  After rolling off him, she glanced up to see the pocket of her jeans on the top of the fence, hanging from a spike. She quickly checked that the rest of her jeans were intact before smiling with relief.

  “Think I can make a new fashion statement?” she asked Bob.

  He pushed her off him, looking annoyed. “Shhhh… and follow me,” he grumbled as he led them across the manicured grounds of Foamy Mansion.

  She eyed the cherubs carved in emerald that were spouting fountains from their curvaceous lips as they passed them.

  Mmm tacky, she thought, as she hurried by, trying to keep up with Bob.

  He stopped at the far wall of the west wing of the mansion, in front of a man-sized grate. Then he quickly began unscrewing the hinges in the grate.

  She caught up and silently studied him for a moment, then frowned at his back. “What do you need me for if you’re going in through the sewer?” She narrowed her eyes. “And are you ever going to explain why you were chasing that orange car earlier?” she asked as an afterthought.

  She was referring to the journey here, where Bob had cursed loudly and run at full speed after an orange electric car, on the way over to Foamy Mansion.

  He pointed to a doorway through the grate. Beside it was a little security box on the wall. “All Foamy workers have eye-scan access, so I need your lovely lilacs, sweetheart,” he said, looking at the security box. “And I like orange things,” he added, making a vague reference to her question about the car.

  “My eyes are green.” She pointed out as he pushed the grate out of the way.

  He looked up at her eyes. “Oh aye, I forgot you’re half Derobmi,” he muttered. He returned his concentration to the sewer entrance.

  Carla froze and scowled at Bob. He knew something about her that she didn’t. “How do you know that?”

  He turned to look at her and winced.

  She was about to demand some answers from him, but his eyes widened.

  “Oh, crap!”

  “Huh?” She frowned as a strong hand clamped onto her shoulder, spinning her around to face the most beautiful pair of green eyes she’d ever seen, which unfortunately looked very angry with her.

  “What are you doing here?” Krellin Foamy snapped.

  She peered up at him. “Um …” She managed in a small voice while a louder voice in the back of her brain told her she was in trouble.

  He was quite frightening when he was angry, she realized, and much more striking up close.

  She glanced back at Bob. For a moment, it looked as if he might do something brave. Then the moment passed. He dropped his tools and bolted, leaving her trapped in Krellin’s strong grasp.

  “Er …” she said, realizing she wasn’t entirely aware of what she and Bob had been doing there. By the look on Krellin’s face, he wasn’t planning to let her go any time soon.

  “Well?” His grip tightened on her shoulders.

  She winced. “I’m … it was a dare!” A surge of lies popped into her head. “You know, to see if we could get into the mansion,” she added, thinking it didn’t sound very convincing, even to her.

  He stared at her with rather cynical eyes.

  “Right, then,” he said, guiding her toward the gardens. “Let’s go to the house and show it to you then, shall we?”

  His hand was still firmly on her shoulder as he mar
ched her up to the house, offering no chance of escape.

  “Oh, we don’t have to,” she said, pulling back, which had absolutely no effect on his iron grip.

  “Look, I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea,” she said, glancing up at him as they entered the dimly-lit courtyard of Foamy Mansion. Dark shadows fell on them both as the surrounding walls towered above them.

  He looked down at her. “Yes, it was a stupid idea,” he muttered.

  Suddenly the mood changed to something completely unexpected. His head dipped close to hers, and he kissed her deeply before drawing back and looking startled at himself.

  She froze in shock, dazed by the myriad of sensations that were tingling through her body. She bit her bottom lip and smiled up at him.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but his lips descended onto hers again. His hand released her shoulder and cupped the back of her head, and the world began to spin strangely out of control in a crazy, hazy glow of something completely insane.

  Bob watched the two part-Rhecknaws kissing from the safety of the stables.

  This was not a good thing to happen. Although mostly without conscience, even Bob couldn’t leave Carla to that fate. He’d get her out of here and tell her all of it. If not, she was lost and the colony with her.

  He stood up to follow them, just as something heavy hit him on the back of the head, and his world also began to spin crazily out of control.

  They held hands while Krellin led Carla into the side door of Foamy Mansion, constantly touching and kissing each other. It felt as if they had been like this forever, not just a few minutes, and the rest of the world faded away.

  His eyes sparkled at her with a mischievous light, and there was no need for words. Each seemed to know what the other was thinking.

  He took her down a dark passageway, into a room that was softly-lit and looked barely used.

  She heard him close the door behind them as she walked around the room, examining its cozy interior. There was a soft leather couch and an oak desk in the room. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that were bursting with thousands of books. The large bay windows had airy voiles floating down to the polished wooden floor, and a pale, fur rug lay in front of an ornate stone fireplace.

  She ran a finger over the mantel of the fireplace, leaving a mark in the fine gathering of dust. She turned to ask him why this beautiful room was unused, only to find him standing right behind her.

  No words were spoken as his lips descended upon hers once again, and his strong hands gently cupped her face.

  He was much taller than she was, so she had to stand on tiptoe to kiss him back, which she willingly did. One of his arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer to him. As the kisses became more intense, a hazy glow filled her head and her lonely heart.

  So many years of emptiness deep inside had taken their toll on her, but right here and right now, she didn’t feel empty anymore, not when she was in his arms.

  His hand roamed down her back, and then he lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the couch and laid her on it, staring down at her with fire in his eyes.

  Something in her consciousness finally broke through the haze. She wanted to lie here with him forever, but a moment of reality broke through the craziness and stopped her.

  “I can’t,” she said. “Not yet.” She didn’t know what he’d do, but he smiled and kissed her again. He sat beside her, happily twirling his fingers through her hair.

  “Okay, there’s no rush,” he said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his strong chest and kissed it through his clothes, smiling softly.

  Some days really were the best of your life. She didn’t want this day to ever end.

  Amelia Norris angrily slammed the book shut. There was nothing there. She’d been studying the registries and papers in her husband’s personal files for days now. Other than one very old and vague file, there was no information on Constanople Ernendez and no information about who he had become. Even in the oldest of archives, there were no listings and no information at all.

  She refused give up until the man was found, but where else could she look.

  Once more, she opened the only file she had and stared at the useless page in it:

  NAME: CONSTANOPLE ERNENDEZ

  AGE: 22

  RACE: HYBRID

  EDUCATION: CIMAGOSIM SECONDARY SCHOOL, CIMAGOSIM PREPARATORY SCHOOL FOR BOYS, SRAW UNIVERSITY.

  She paused. Cimagosim was the main city in Rhecknaw and Sraw was the capital of Trell. How could he have gone to both those schools? Those colonies were at war during the time period mentioned. No Rhecknaw could study in Trell, not even now.

  The colonies had a tentative peace at the moment, but they did not allow migration between the colonies. They certainly would not have done so back then. She continued to read:

  SKIN COLOR: GREEN

  This man had been born in Rhecknaw, but then he traveled to Trell, why? Why not go to Derobmi.

  She stared out of the window, frowning at the dark street. Its lights reflected in rain puddles like glowing orbs under the water.

  She tried to think of a way to find out more. She needed more information. Her best plan seemed to be to contact the schools and hope they would still have records about this man.

  Joe looked pale and small in the hospital bed as he slept. Emily Mainston watched him with a frown while tightly clutching his Jimble trophy in her hands.

  It was all just so wrong. It was as if he wasn’t her son anymore. The boy she had loved and been so proud of was lost to her.

  The past few days had taken their toll on her too. She hadn’t cleaned the house. She hadn’t done anything but sit at Joe’s bedside and watch her world crumble. She was beginning to think that Carla was right. The doctors didn’t know anything. She wondered where her wayward daughter was now and missed her.

  Emily would never admit it out loud, but a small hidden part of her was just as proud of Carla as she was of Joe. Carla’s resistance and her differences made her strong. She just wished she’d be more careful.

  It was worry that made her nag at Carla. What chance did a purple girl have in Derobmi, after all? What chance did someone so different and bright really have in this world?

  Oh, she knew Carla was special. She knew it more than anyone else and always had, but she had been scared for Carla all these years. The constant fear of what might become of her had haunted Emily, so she had tried to protect her, to make her blend in.

  She had always thought that in the years to come, Joe would protect Carla, but now she feared for Joe too.

  He didn’t have Carla’s color, or the inflictions that came with it, but he was in even greater danger now.

  Emily had many regrets, and her life had not turned out the way she had dreamed it would, but she lived for her children. They were the most important things in the world to her.

  She squeezed Joe’s hand, as her mind was flooded with memories that she had chosen not to remember for a very long time…

  It had been a sunny day in Betterware, and the city’s Festival of Light was in full swing. People in brightly-colored costumes were out in the streets celebrating, and there were picnics in every park. Music flowed through the city from street entertainers and playhouses, and festive stalls littered the pavements. No one was working today. The schools were on vacation and everyone was happy.

  Emily wore her angel costume as she danced down Main Street with her friends from college. She laughed as streamers were shot into the air from colorful rockets.

  Her fiancé was late. He was supposed to meet them an hour ago. She had been a little annoyed at Herb, but who could stay angry on a day like today? She was young, just turned twenty, engaged and having the time of her life.

  A large crowd of dancing people spun around her in bright and amusing costumes. She danced with them happily, high from the energy in the streets and a little too much wine.

  Caught up in the merriment, sh
e didn’t notice her friends disappear into the crowds until much later. When she did eventually realize they were gone, she looked around, her face full of worry as she searched the masked faces for one she might recognize.

  It was then that she saw him. He wore a black tunic from olden times, which had gold threads on the seams and gold buttons that shone in the sunlight.

  Over his face was a mask that revealed only his eyes, and his head was adorned with a rather silly hat. He was quite tall, definitely male in stance and shape, and he was entirely purple.

  He was looking straight at her, smiling with sparkling violet eyes. She smiled back. It just seemed to be the right thing to do. He walked over and invited her to dance. She didn’t really think about it. It was only a dance after all.

  “Your costume’s great.” She shouted over the music. “You even used contact lenses,” she added when he spun her around in his arms.

  “And you make a beautiful angel,” he whispered in her ear. “Are you here to save me?” His voice sent shimmers of warmth through her body. His nearness was intoxicating, and she became drunk on it…

  That was how it had begun, with love, happiness and bright rays of sunshine. Emily found out later that evening that it wasn’t a costume. He was purple-skinned.

  After that day, she didn’t see the man again for a very long time. At the time she was with him, she had decided to break up with Herb and be with her purple man. Unfortunately, before he left, he had told her his life was on the run and dangerous. He’d told her that they couldn’t be together.

  She had broken up with Herb all the same. It was the right thing to do, but she had never told him why, just that she’d had second thoughts.

  She’d cried a lot over the following weeks, and poor Herb had never given up on her. Eventually, when she realized the love of her life was never coming back, she had given in to Herb’s pleading and reinstated their relationship. Heartbreak over one date had seemed a little insane, even to her, so she married Herb and tried to forget about the purple stranger.