I look around. The office is made of solid glass, walls, ceiling, and floor. Nobody can see in, but you can see out. Its freaky walking on a glass floor. Like the bottoms dropping out of your world with every step you take. Even sitting, you feel a kind of vertigo.
I look down. There are acres of dance floor beneath me. The club has multiple tiers, maybe a hundred subclubs on split levels, each with its own theme. Seelie, Unseelie, and humans hang together and strike who knows what kind of deals. Here in post-wall Dublin, anything you want can be had at Chesters, for a price. For a second I forget hes there, fascinated by watching it all between my high-top sneakers. I could sit here for days, study stuff, get smarter. Itemize every caste of Fae, spread the word around the city, what they are, how they can be defeated, or at least escaped from or restrained until I can get there to kill them with my sword. Thats a big part of the reason Ive been so determined to get inside Chesters. How can I protect my city if I cant warn everyone about all its dangers? I got a job to do. I need all the intel I can get.
Theres a Seelie male on the dance floor, blond and beautiful like Vlane was before he dropped his glamour and revealed himself as an Unseelie. In the next subclub over is a lower caste of dark Fae that Ive never seen before, shiny wet and segmented, with Ew! The many segments are coming apart and scurrying off into a hundred different directions like roaches! I hate roaches. They begin to disappear up peoples pants legs. I pick my feet up off the floor and sit cross-legged on the chair.
You watch everything.
Its not a question so I dont answer. I look at him, fold my arms and wait.
Theres that smile again.
I poke out my lower lip defiantly. What am I? Like a walking joke to you? Why do you always smile when you look at me?
Youll figure it out. He moves to his desk, opens a drawer, pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to me. Complete and sign this.
I take it and look at it. Its a job application. I give him a look. Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does job applications anymore?
I do.
I squint at it, then him. What are you paying me? I angle.
Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does money anymore.
I snicker. First sign of any sense of humor hes shown. Then I remember where I am and why. I wad it up and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest.
Youre wasting time, kid. The sooner you do what I tell you, the sooner you can get out of here. He goes to his desk, gets another and hands it to me with a pen.
I relax. He plans to let me leave. Maybe even soon.
I skim the application. It has the usual blanks: name, address, date of birth, education,prior job history, places for signature and date. Fanciest application Ive ever seen, with the name CHESTERS worked into an ornate border that frames the page.
Everybody clings to something when the world melts down. I suppose Ryodan likes having his business details all squared up, no matter the chaos at his door. Its not like itll kill me to fill out the stupid thing, agree to do whatever he wants, then get the feck out of here and go into deep hiding. I sigh. Hiding. Me. I pine for the days when I was the only superhero in town.
If I fill this out, youll let me leave?
He inclines his head.
But I have to do some kind of job for you?
He inclines his head again.
If I do that job, are we through? For good? Just one job, right? I have to make this convincing or hell figure out I plan to disappear.
Once more he gives me that imperial nod thats hardly a nod, like hes stooping to acknowledge my puny existence.
I dont ask him what the job is because I have no intention of ever doing it. Im never going to be anyones solution to folks problems again. I crossed lines for Ro. Big lines. Deep lines. Shes dead. Im free. Life starts now. I study him. Hes perfect stillness, with the light behind his face as usual, features in shadow.
Cats get still like him. Before they pounce.
Somethings going on here, bigger than Im seeing.
My face hurts. My eyes are puffy and the left ones trying to swell shut. You got any ice? I need to buy time to figure out whats going on. Plus, if he leaves for ice I can snoop through his office.
He gives me a look Ive seen men do before, especially to women: chin down, looking up from beneath his brows, with a faintly mocking smile. Theres something in that look I dont get but the challenge is unmistakable. Come here, he says. Ill heal you. Hes sitting behind his desk, watching me. Still, so still. Its like hes not even breathing.
I look at him. I dont know what to make of him. Part of me wants to get up, go around that desk and find out what hes talking about. You could do that? Make my bruises and cuts go away? Im always beat up and my muscles are constantly strained from overuse. Sometimes I burn through my shoes and scrape the skin right off my feet. It gets old.
I can make you feel better than youve ever felt in your life.
How?
There are some secrets, Dani OMalley, that you learn only by participating.
I consider that. So. You got any ice?
He laughs and presses a button on his desk. Fade. Ice. Now.
I look down. There are acres of dance floor beneath me. The club has multiple tiers, maybe a hundred subclubs on split levels, each with its own theme. Seelie, Unseelie, and humans hang together and strike who knows what kind of deals. Here in post-wall Dublin, anything you want can be had at Chesters, for a price. For a second I forget hes there, fascinated by watching it all between my high-top sneakers. I could sit here for days, study stuff, get smarter. Itemize every caste of Fae, spread the word around the city, what they are, how they can be defeated, or at least escaped from or restrained until I can get there to kill them with my sword. Thats a big part of the reason Ive been so determined to get inside Chesters. How can I protect my city if I cant warn everyone about all its dangers? I got a job to do. I need all the intel I can get.
Theres a Seelie male on the dance floor, blond and beautiful like Vlane was before he dropped his glamour and revealed himself as an Unseelie. In the next subclub over is a lower caste of dark Fae that Ive never seen before, shiny wet and segmented, with Ew! The many segments are coming apart and scurrying off into a hundred different directions like roaches! I hate roaches. They begin to disappear up peoples pants legs. I pick my feet up off the floor and sit cross-legged on the chair.
You watch everything.
Its not a question so I dont answer. I look at him, fold my arms and wait.
Theres that smile again.
I poke out my lower lip defiantly. What am I? Like a walking joke to you? Why do you always smile when you look at me?
Youll figure it out. He moves to his desk, opens a drawer, pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to me. Complete and sign this.
I take it and look at it. Its a job application. I give him a look. Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does job applications anymore?
I do.
I squint at it, then him. What are you paying me? I angle.
Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does money anymore.
I snicker. First sign of any sense of humor hes shown. Then I remember where I am and why. I wad it up and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest.
Youre wasting time, kid. The sooner you do what I tell you, the sooner you can get out of here. He goes to his desk, gets another and hands it to me with a pen.
I relax. He plans to let me leave. Maybe even soon.
I skim the application. It has the usual blanks: name, address, date of birth, education,prior job history, places for signature and date. Fanciest application Ive ever seen, with the name CHESTERS worked into an ornate border that frames the page.
Everybody clings to something when the world melts down. I suppose Ryodan likes having his business details all squared up, no matter the chaos at his door. Its not like itll kill me to fill out the stupid thing, agree to do whatever he wants, then get the feck out of here and go into deep hiding. I sigh. Hiding. Me. I pine for the days when I was the only superhero in town.
If I fill this out, youll let me leave?
He inclines his head.
But I have to do some kind of job for you?
He inclines his head again.
If I do that job, are we through? For good? Just one job, right? I have to make this convincing or hell figure out I plan to disappear.
Once more he gives me that imperial nod thats hardly a nod, like hes stooping to acknowledge my puny existence.
I dont ask him what the job is because I have no intention of ever doing it. Im never going to be anyones solution to folks problems again. I crossed lines for Ro. Big lines. Deep lines. Shes dead. Im free. Life starts now. I study him. Hes perfect stillness, with the light behind his face as usual, features in shadow.
Cats get still like him. Before they pounce.
Somethings going on here, bigger than Im seeing.
My face hurts. My eyes are puffy and the left ones trying to swell shut. You got any ice? I need to buy time to figure out whats going on. Plus, if he leaves for ice I can snoop through his office.
He gives me a look Ive seen men do before, especially to women: chin down, looking up from beneath his brows, with a faintly mocking smile. Theres something in that look I dont get but the challenge is unmistakable. Come here, he says. Ill heal you. Hes sitting behind his desk, watching me. Still, so still. Its like hes not even breathing.
I look at him. I dont know what to make of him. Part of me wants to get up, go around that desk and find out what hes talking about. You could do that? Make my bruises and cuts go away? Im always beat up and my muscles are constantly strained from overuse. Sometimes I burn through my shoes and scrape the skin right off my feet. It gets old.
I can make you feel better than youve ever felt in your life.
How?
There are some secrets, Dani OMalley, that you learn only by participating.
I consider that. So. You got any ice?
He laughs and presses a button on his desk. Fade. Ice. Now.
