by L. R. W. Lee
I still can’t get over how huge it is—boxes for storage up top; lighted racks for hanging clothes in the middle; a boatload of drawers mixed with shoe racks in the section below that; and more storage in a center island. Harpoc’s contributions to my wardrobe have only touched the tip of the available space.
“What should I wear?” I call.
“Whatever you like.”
I roll my eyes, big help he is.
I feel feminine in the long, gray coat Harpoc designed. I especially love the hood, so I decide that’s a good start. I add to it a long sleeve, white button-down blouse that I find hanging, and discover a pair of black pants in one of the drawers.
Everything’s folded so neatly, clearly Portia’s work, and I have to shake my head because my closet has never looked this organized.
I’m just sitting down on the upholstered bench—because of course there’s one of those, too, in this monstrosity of a closet—to tie my new boots, when Harpoc ambles in.
“Making sure I’m not buried under all these clothes and can’t get up?”
A corner of his mouth hitches. He’s wearing a black mock-turtleneck and black slacks with his gray leather vest.
“Wishing to give you this.” He lays his duster on the island as I stand, then he holds out a black pin. The top is the size of a nickel, in the shape of a rose, with a midnight black stone in the middle.
I reach out gingerly and take it, looking it over and marveling at the intricacy of the detail. “It’s beautiful. What’s it made of?”
“Black gold with a black diamond.”
I’m intrigued and I look all the closer. I’ve never seen either material, but it has to cost a fortune. “Harpoc, I….”
He smiles. “I’m glad you like it. As I mentioned last night, the rose is a symbol of secrets. I’m asking that anything you hear or see while you’re here, you not repeat anywhere to anyone.”
“So is this like my badge?” I’m joking, but his serious expression tells me he’s not.
“Will you promise me, Pell?” The fact he’s asking again confirms this is more than a pretty piece of jewelry.
I reach up and cup his clean shaven jaw. “Harpoc, I give you my word.”
He dips his head, then kisses my hand. “May I?” He nods at my lapel and I hand the pin back so he can do the honors.
I want to run my hands through his wavy hair while he pins it to my jacket, but I refrain.
My inner voice groans all the same.
“So does this mean I’m now a secret?” I chuckle, but his eyes go wide for an instant as he stands straight, then schools them again, but I’m left scratching my head.
“Okay, finish up. We’ll leave when you’re ready,” he says, hastily turning like he’s running from what I just said.
Harpoc, Harpoc, Harpoc, what a mysterious god you are.
“Can we grab breakfast before we go?”
“It’ll be there this morning.”
Ten minutes later, Harpoc again takes my hand in his and we stride out his doors. There’s no one about in the hall this morning other than his two guards.
I’ve no idea where we’re going, so I’m not surprised when he takes an immediate left at that curving stairway we passed yesterday. It’s only steps from his front door.
As we start down, a female voice booms from somewhere below. “Decided to be a female today, I see, Aura, but that robe….”
It’s English being spoken, which surprises me to no end, but… ‘decided to be a female today?’ Huh?
A male laugh follows, as we take another step.
“I was assured by my seamstress that this is the latest fashion,” another feminine voice—the ‘female today’ no doubt—replies.
We take another step and I glance over at Harpoc. He’s got a wide grin going on.
I’m clearly missing this inside joke.
“She didn’t happen to mention in which galaxy that is, did she?” the first female asks.
Harpoc chuckles as we take another step, a dozen from the bottom, so I still can’t see the speakers.
“Pell, meet my core team.”
Chapter Six
“Harp, set Nuria straight,” says a slight woman with a short, smoke-gray bob, in a barely there robe.
Her words die, all their jesting does, the instant they spot me.
She called him Harp, it’s rather familiar, and no one’s rising, let alone bowing.
My eyes linger on the nearly translucent, shimmery black garment the woman wears—it leaves virtually nothing to the imagination. The three aren’t gaping at the woman. No, their eyes go wider as they notice Harpoc holding my hand. He just smiles broadly and squeezes it.
What in the… universe?
Just like the beings we met yesterday in the halls, their gazes bounce to my ring, their brows hitching as they do.
The other woman, sporting beautiful long, pure-white hair and a gray blouse with black slacks, opens her mouth, still looking between our hands and my ring, but the slightest of nods from Harpoc has her closing it again, replacing it with a broad smile of her own.
What’s going on?
Harpoc squeezes my hand again, and I can’t help but rub the back of my ring.
Gold eye, silver eye.
“Is this why you were in such a good mood last night?” It’s the general; it has to be because, one, he’s the only male and two, he’s clad in black armor. I can’t remember what Harpoc said his name is, but he’s got horns—not like those of a ram or a goat, but something in between. They spread out, starting toward the front of his head, then hook upward. I’ve never seen anything like them.
Turning to the group, the general adds, “Harp was whistling while he fought, if you can believe that.”
My cheeks warm.
“Perhaps it’s true.” He winks at me, making my cheeks warm further.
The trio finally stands from the corner cluster of comfortable-looking, rust-colored leather chairs and approaches us, where we’ve stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Each of them holds a cup of one kind of coffee or another, judging by the incredible aroma filling this space that I can only call another Starbucks.
Did Harpoc hire a Starbucks designer for his home as well as here? I’m seriously beginning to wonder because a quick glance reveals warm wood-covered walls, a towering, copper, coffee-bean roaster, exposed copper pipes that run along the unfinished ceiling, along with a good thirty burlap sacks of coffee beans stacked beside one wall not far away. A long counter across from a grand staircase in the middle of the long space, at which a variety of beings place orders, is hopping.
“I’d like you to meet Pellucid Rose, from Earth,” Harpoc says as they gather round.
I bob my head and make eye contact with each of them, hoping to make a good first impression. These people are clearly comfortable with each other; I just hope I can fit in until we solve the leaks and I’m gone.
“I’m General Idris Fuchur,” the male says, stepping forward and extending a hand. His horns are striking, but up close, I can see he has gray eyes that are warm and kind, despite whatever hardship he endured to earn all the scars on his right cheek—it’s a veritable web of them. But I know I’m going to like him. Short white hair crowns his head, combed forward between his horns, as well as a whisper of growth accenting his chin. But he’s got pointy ears.
Eep. I love fae characters in my novels, and I can’t wait to see if he’s anything like any of those stories, the conquering hero.
I stifle a snicker and picture my inner minion rolling her eyes, even though she stays quiet.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I say. His grip is firm, as I expect.
The woman with long, straight, white hair stands with her weight on one foot, the arm not holding her coffee hangs loose at her side, confident like she’s got the world at her command—she probably does.
“I’m Nuria Orlaith, lieutenant commander of the empire’s secret sealers, and I’m happy to meet you
.” She winks at Harpoc when she says it, and I can’t help but look over at him, only to catch him rolling his eyes, still grinning.
Do they, like have something going on between them?
Harpoc squeezes my hand as if to silence my question before it takes root, but I’m left wondering.
Before I can indulge worry further, Aura steps forward… no, not actually stepping… more like floating in that revealing robe, the hem hissing against the wood floor. Goodness, I can see her milky white breasts, nipples and all, through the thing—It seems I’m not the only one lacking endowment—as well as her long, shapely legs.
Pell! My inner minion’s outburst nearly makes me snicker, but I quash it.
Harpoc squeezes my hand again, seemingly amused at my reaction. Is this inappropriate dress a common occurrence with Aura?
Her every curve is on display; she needs to cover herself, but I’m not going to say it. Unlike me, she doesn’t seem ill at ease with her lack of modesty as she floats toward me. She’s certainly not trying to hide any part of herself.
It makes me increasingly uncomfortable the closer she draws, especially when, still holding her coffee in one hand, she takes my hand, the one with the ring, and holds it up in her palm, looking it over before smiling. “A pleasure to meet you, Pellucid.”
“Aura is a shadow being,” Harpoc says, as she retreats, giving me a full view of her back and firm buttocks despite me looking away. “She has the gift of omnipresence, being everywhere at the same time.”
I look up at Harpoc, then at Aura again, trying to figure out how that works.
“She’s able to appear in any form she wishes,” he adds.
So male or female it seems. And hence the reason for the conversation about her choice of gender today.
“That must be handy.” It’s all I can think to say.
She gives me a warm smile. “It has its benefits as well as drawbacks.”
Nuria chuckles, then puts a hand on Aura’s shoulder. “Our friend may be wardrobe challenged, but we love her all the same.”
Aura dips her long neck at her companion, her smoke-gray bob swaying as a smile plays on her lips. It seems she shares the sentiment of mutual love.
A server holding a tray brimming with all things breakfast interrupts our getting acquainted, “Ah, you have one extra this morning. Let me grab another egg sandwich for you.”
The male places the tray on the table, which the chairs surround.
Harpoc raises his finger before he can hurry off. “Make it a baklava, if you would.”
I squeeze his hand, silently thanking him. Goodness, dessert for breakfast.
“Would the lady like any coffee?” the server asks.
“Yes, please, with cream.” I’ve already had one cup of wakey-wakey juice. Combined with a sugar rush from my coming baklava, I may be soaring in no time, but hey, go big or go home.
My inner voice clears her throat, but I ignore her.
Harpoc herds everyone toward the rust-colored leather chairs and motions for me to take the one to his right while the others retake theirs.
The server soon hands me another tray with my coffee and baklava, then leaves, and I notice the ambient drone lowers from folks placing orders and dining at the host of tables throughout the space.
“A bit of secret magic to keep our confidences, confidential,” Harpoc says, catching me looking around.
It’s the same kind he used when we flew. Cool.
“Pell is a crack archeologist and has an uncanny ability to piece together history into a coherent story. Put another way, she’s a detective of ancient civilizations. As such, she has agreed to help us track down these leaks.”
Heads bob as understanding dawns.
“Excellent,” Nuria says. “Perhaps you’ll offer us some new insights.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Harpoc continues, “As I discovered last night after interrogating several captives, the rats invaded as a result of another secret leaking.”
Aura stops chewing and shakes her head while Nuria grinds her teeth—I fear the fork she’s holding will bend with the pressure she’s exerting.
“The rats are up in arms after learning about a bribe given by the Queen of Scarabs to Mense’s lead sanitation engineer, to influence the awarding of the contract for refuse breakdown.” Harpoc goes on and gives the group more detail as he unwraps what looks like a breakfast burrito.
“So then, Idris, update us on where things stand,” he says.
I take a bite of my baklava, and I have to squelch a moan because it’s nearly as good as those at Atitamos’s. Nearly. It’s light, flaky, tender, and balanced with that honey-lemon syrup. I smile to myself.
The general brushes his hands against each other. “Our troops did well to stop the initial surge of rats. They’re better armed than we’ve seen before and seem to have a coherent strategy. They gave our troops a good workout before we drove them back to their ships. In all, of the two hundred troops we fielded, we lost two dozen along with seven gryphon.”
I raise my brows. How many rats attacked to cause that much loss?
As if reading my thoughts, he continues. “Losses on their side are substantial, estimates are around three hundred, but we won’t know for sure until things get cleaned up.”
Three hundred of those huge rats died. Somehow I feel no pity, because while rats don’t make me bat crazy like roaches, they’re still vermin that the universe is better without, in my humble opinion.
“While fighting has died down, it’s not over. Ships keep arriving with more rat troops.”
Harpoc nods. “I know you’ll keep after it.”
“Indeed. I’m headed back as soon as we’re done here.”
“Then let’s not keep you long.”
“There’s a secret you need to seal today, Harp,” Nuria interjects. She eyes me with those striking violet eyes of hers, clearly unsure if I can be trusted with what she wants to tell him.
“She’s given her word,” Harpoc assures.
Nuria bobs her head. “It’s between the head of the sports betting syndicate and a ball player on Gidron.”
I’m not exactly wise in the ways of the world, but it sounds like a gambling fix, otherwise, why would whatever it is, need to be sealed? My gaze bounces between Harpoc and Nuria, hardly believing the secrets this empire facilitates. The only salvation this time is that the fix is on a bunch of gamblers who are stupid enough to risk money anyway.
I’m clear this is not the time or place to voice my disapproval, but it’s still hard to just sit quietly. I know it’ll take time to sway Harpoc over to my side, but I must. At least for my world.
“Gidron, huh?” Harpoc says, drawing me back.
“That’s right.”
“Idris has his hands full, so Nuria, grab a squad, and we’ll head there as soon as we’re done here.”
“Sounds good.” She takes another sip of coffee.
Good? It sounds dangerous is what it sounds, otherwise why would he need an armed escort? My sugar-filled stomach suddenly feels ill. The fairies certainly know how to let me know they’re not happy either.
Serves you right, Pell, eating that crap.
Shush, I tell my inner voice.
“Aura, update us on your investigation of Glass’s incursion,” Harpoc says.
Turning to me, he says, “The Empire of Glass. A group of their troops invaded this island, making it nearly to the castle before being discovered.”
Sounds ominous, whatever this Glass empire is.
Is it fragile? Do its people break if they fall? Grace and I would never survive. I laugh to myself.
Aura finishes chewing and swallows. “Our troops have scoured every foot between where they were discovered and where we tracked them, back to the edge of the island, but have observed no damage or anything else of significance to give any hints about what they were after.”
“Another leaked secret?” I ask.
“No, my magic tri
ggered,” Harpoc says.
I’m not sure what that means, but I’ll ask him later.
Aura swats crumbs off her barely there outfit and looks to Harpoc. “You should speak with the Queen of Scarabs. We’re not the only one the rats attacked, and you’re the only one she trusts.”
Queen of Scarabs. I try and fail to tamp down on a shiver that runs up my back. Not only at the possibility of visiting glorified dung beetles, but the fact that there’s obviously bad blood between them if Harpoc is “the only one she trusts.”
“As if she still trusts me after this.” He forces a chuckle that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But I agree.”
Ugh. I have no words to express how much I “don’t agree,” but who am I?
The meeting winds down after that, and the trio disburses to their duties, biding me a good day with hopes to see me tomorrow. I don’t miss the fact that Aura just dissolves into thin air, without even a swirl of shadows.
Omnipresent shadow being, indeed. How do I even wrap my brain around a being like her, like it, like…? What will she show up in next time?
Harpoc takes my hand, and we start back up the stairs. “Dare I ask what you thought of them?”
“They’re definitely an interesting bunch. Fun, but interesting.”
He laughs. “They can be a bit overwhelming, but you handled yourself well. For what it’s worth, I think they like you.”
I throw the back of my wrist against my forehead as dramatically as possible while not waking Grace—I’ll be falling down the stairs backward if I do. “You have no idea, kind sir, how relieved that makes me.”
Harpoc guffaws.
I love the sound of it.
My inner minion groans, but I ignore her.
“Why did everyone speak English? Not that I minded, but I didn’t expect it.”
“Nearly everything the Core speaks of is secretive in nature, and English keeps things—”
“Quiet from prying ears.”
Harpoc’s mouth hitches. “That’s right. It just adds an extra measure of protection.”
“I find it interesting that of all the hundreds of languages available, you use English. I mean, come on, Earth is way far away and a tiny rock in the grand scheme of things.”
