My Name Is Eri-

by Sharkrags

First published 28th of September, 2014

She sat on a bus going nowhere, dressed like a mad woman. But she was not mad, just strange in ideals, unpredictable in actions, and poised to unleash a chaotic change upon herself and an unsuspecting world.

She sat on a bus going nowhere, dressed like a mad woman. But she was not mad, just strange in ideals, unpredictable in actions, and poised to unleash a chaotic change upon herself and an unsuspecting world.

And it all begins with making a friend.
-
Story contains draconequus shenanigans and an illicit scene tucked in there. If that sounds up your alley, fantastic, if not, have fun anyway!

"Remember, I'm A Stranger"

The charter bus rattled down an eastward stretch of Americana for eight hours. The view out the windows were unbroken except for the cracks of dry ground and the occasional dirtied row of toothy mountains. Five hours ago the air conditioner wheezed itself to death. The toilet gurgled into a rank stillness an hour later.

The windows were unlocked and slid open. The natural airflow helped suppress the smell, but only spread the heat between the outside and in. The aisle rumpled and crinkled as rears peeled against their seat's sticky leather upholstery.

Most passengers closed their eyes and hoped to slip into a more comfortable oblivion until arrival. Others sought distractions by playing on phones or nodding along to music from buds plugged into their ears. You'd be part of the latter group, but your own music player decided to follow the toilet's example and died, leaving you to fend off boredom, dry heat, and bad smells on your own.

It wasn't working out. You thumbed through your backpack and pulled out a book, but the words on the page smeared into thick oil across your eyes after reading the first dozen pages -your mind refused to comprehend anything under such circumstances.

The manifest was sparse for a bus that size. A hair less than two dozen people rode in a vehicle rated for fifty. You looked around. An old man stared straightforward in his seat. He might've been mistaken for deceased if he didn't blink once every few moments. Another woman scrawled with a nervous hand onto a notepad. A young guy about your age plugged away at a game.

And then there was the girl across the aisle. Your gaze settled on the back of her head like a fly. She hadn't moved in any real way since first taking a seat. The girl was bundled and wrapped in more layers than a mountaineer. She wore a thick jacket over a blue hoodie with the hood up. Her hands fitted into a pair of striped cotton gloves. The off-green cargo pants on her legs tucked into her chest. Heavy boots rested on the edge of her seat. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself, cotton-tipped fingers poked out from under her arms. If someone said she raided a Goodwill for all that could be carried, you'd believe them.

The other passengers unbuttoned their shirts, rolled up sleeves, and fanned themselves with baseball caps or floppy magazines while sighing through opened windows. This girl only deigned to draw her window by a slit -any more and the wind could threaten to throw her hood back. Sweat must've rolled down her forehead in great beads. The interior of her clothes had to be an oven. You stared in passive puzzlement and tugged the collar of your shirt.

Her head flicked to the right. You looked straight ahead, thinking that staring at her was equal to a misdemeanor. You feigned innocence. She raised her right hand to scratch at the back of her hoodie, the same spot where your gaze planted a mosquito's bite of curiosity. Cloth rubbed on cloth.

You blinked off the fit of irrational panic. Boredom must have taken a strong hold if you were so intent on a girl who looked dead set to melt inside of her own clothes. Must be cold natured. Her face was a mystery on top of all things. Only the smallest glimpse of her features were seen when she first sat down across from you. Oh well, it wasn't your business. This trip wasn't meant to sharpen your people watching skills.

You leaned back in the sweaty seat and closed your eyes when the bus driver's voice crackled over the speaker system, announcing a stop at an upcoming gas station.

Your bladder praised God at the news.

The breaks squawked and the engine chuffed to a stop in the parking lot. Passengers stood and hustled to the door as it squealed open. You let a moment pass before stepping off, not wanting to shuffle against other people's shoulders. The girl was fixed in her seat when you left the bus and didn't move an iota when you returned.

The vehicle pulled back onto the dry road and drove away from the setting sun.

The late afternoon sky turned from a harsh, burnt orange to the cool purples and darkened clouds of evening. Heat evaporated off the road's cracked concrete and metal ceiling of the bus. A few trees peppered the landscape. Dark green leaves blocked the roadside and turned into blurred shadows. The lights of phones and tablet screens dimmed one by one as people dozed off in the cooling night air. You followed suit and snagged a few flickers of wild colored dreams.

But before long, the bus took a heavy turn, lurching in fits and grunts. It was the middle of the night -maybe it was late, or very early. The bus pulled into the lot of a terminal. Harsh florescent lights filled the interior, you blinked and shielded your eyes. A few other buses were parked in the lot. It didn't seem the type of station to get too busy.

The bus chugged to a halt with a metallic sigh as the driver killed the engine. He came over the intercom again, announcing it was the last stretch for the night, and if this wasn't everyone's last stop, then he really hoped their next ride was better than this one.

The doors opened.

People stood and left with creaky eagerness. You remained seated again, waiting for the first wave of passengers to leave. You stood up and stretched your back, taking pleasure in the crackle and pop of bone.

How far have you traveled? How much further was left to go? Where were you going again?

Oh. Right.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and stepped into the aisle. You walked two yards before taking pause and turning around.

The girl still sat in her seat, arms and legs tucked in tidy, and showed no intention to stir anytime soon. Was she asleep? You looked at the door, then back at her. You could have left, then and there.

Instead you made the most important decision in your life and approached her seat.

“Hey,” you said. “Last stop. Everyone gets off now.” She didn't move. The bus driver busied himself at the front, in no apparent rush. You raised an uncertain hand and tapped her shoulder. The air had a marked warmth this close to her, to little wonder.

Her head ticked like a second hand on a broken clock. She stayed still before taking a long time to turn and look you in the face.

Even with the heavy wash of the parking lot's fluorescent lights, she had the largest, most vivid hazel eyes you've ever seen. Her firm eyebrows didn't move. She blinked -her lashes dark and full. Her face's skin was a smooth chestnut tan set inside a dark hood bathed in station light. Not a bead of sweat glistened on her forehead. Slim lips moved.

“If that's the way it is,” she said in a flat way, too quiet to qualify as a whisper. Her legs unfolded to the ground for the first time in hours. Her boots thudded against the floor and she raised from the seat. She was tall, even for a girl, and slid past you with ease and without further comment. Only the sounds of her shuffling clothing and footsteps followed her off the bus.

Inside the depot several passengers settled into seats to await their next ride. An electronic display on the wall indicated a handful of arrival and departure times. Your next bus wasn't due until morning. Plenty of time to eat, nap, and get a decent charge on your phone. But every visible outlet had one electronic or other plugged in. You grunted beneath your breath.

The bus terminal had a small convenience store, but it was closed for the night. Vending machines lined the wall, but all carried nothing more substantial than chips, chocolate bars, and gum packets. Your stomach tightened at the prospects. Through the windows of the terminal a good sized gas station could be seen on the other side of the highway.

Perfect, you thought. You stepped through the doors and into the night air. A small troupe of people stood in groups or alone, smoked cigarettes, chatted amongst themselves, or held heavy bags and awaited rides to come and take them away from that small blip of lights in the middle of nowhere.

A truck roared down the four-lane highway. You ran across the road after it passed, heading for the blue and green neon lights of the gas station. The handful of cars in the parking lot were speckled with nocturnal lights. The door rang in notice of your entrance.

Inside were several of your bus mates who thumbed through magazines, filled cups at the soda fountain, and made idle talk with the station clerk. You gave him a token nod.

Hot dogs turned slowly under a red heat lamp. Those you ignored. They've probably been spinning since morning. It was a wonder that they had any grease left to sizzle. Instead you grabbed an extra-large bean burrito and put it in the microwave, slammed the door and punched a few numbers. The machine buzzed and the plastic wrapping inside crinkled.

You meandered up and down the aisles, grabbed a pack of jerky and perused the snack cakes. You hadn't eaten a star-crunch in a while. There was only one left. Sugar wasn't the best idea at this hour, but no one was around to tell you otherwise.

The door rang again. You threw a lazy eye towards the entrance. The girl from the bus entered. You stared a little longer than intended. She passed the clerk, checking out a customer, with a brisk walk and high head.

The layered girl stepped past while you looked at the Little Debbies. She stopped in front of the chip display. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her gloved hand reach out, grab a bag, and tuck it into the fold of her jacket.

She paid you no mind and walked to the drink freezers at the back. She opened and closed one quickly, took a few steps and opened another. Once more where the frozen foods were. The girl looped up and down the aisles with the slick efficiency of a hit and run mission, pausing only for blinks in front of end caps. The clerk trailed her with suspicion from his register.

Her boots thumped down your aisle again, and came to stand right next to you. Her incredible body heat washed up your sides. You caught the side of her gaze as her hand flicked and grabbed the last star-crunch before heading to the front of the store.

She placed a bag of trail mix, a pack of m&m's, and a bottle of water on the counter. The clerk raised an eyebrow and rung the items up.

“Will that be all?” He said, not with total ease. She nodded. He rang her up and put the snacks in a crinkling thin plastic bag while she paid.

You meandered to the microwave by the front and watched her head to the door. Her hand reached for the handle.

“Are you sure that's all, ma'am?” asked the clerk.

She pulled her hand back and turned in full view towards the clerk and yourself. Her face was impassive and the clerk was unimpressed. She put the plastic bag on the ground and stood straight up. She thumped her hands up and down her jacket and jeans. If anything was stashed away, everyone would've heard the harsh crackle of foil and thunk of drink bottles. She even emptied out her pockets for good measure.

The attendant frowned, still unconvinced. “Roll up your sleeves.” The few other customers watched with rapt attention. This was the closest thing that passed for entertainment all day.

She tilted her head and grabbed the cuff of her sleeves. Your heart caught for a beat as she yanked the sleeve past her elbow.

You didn't know what you were expecting, but never before had a normal looking arm surprised you. She rolled back her other sleeve. You half expected her to say ta-da because there was nothing there. No filched snacks or magic rabbits.

But she only asked “Anything else?” in a smooth, smokey voice.

The clerk blew out of his nose. “Just go,” he said and turned away from her. She picked up the bag with gloved fingers. She caught your stare with a flash from her full hazel eyes. The girl winked with a razor's swiftness, sharp enough sting your eyes even from that distance. She turned and strolled out, the door rang as she left. You realized you held your breath.

Everyone jumped when the microwave beeped. Your burrito was ready.

-

A small fleet of eighteen wheelers blared down the highway before you jogged across the lanes and back to the bus station. You shivered and rubbed your arms. The night had gained significant bite. The soft yellow glow from the station lot's entrance made you pause. You've already spent eight hours stuffed inside a metal tube with all the dignity of canned fished. You were in sore need of open space and fresh air, even if if the scent of cigarette smoke lingered by the terminal front.

You walked off to the side, away from the other hangers-on and sat against the rough, warm wall of the depot's exterior. You legs jutted out on the cool concrete of the sidewalk. You pulled out your oversized, third-rate burrito and a bottle of Dr. Pepper from a plastic bag. The night air hissed as you twisted the cap open and took a swig. Sharp, cold fizzies slid down your throat and you felt every bubble. You were about to rip open the burrito's wrapper when the bundled girl took position to your left

You looked up her lengthy form. She stared ahead at nothing. A bag dangled on her elbow. From within her jacket she pulled out a big bottle of chocolate milk and took a gulp, then stared at nothing a while longer. An extra large bag of potato chips materialized from the folds of her clothing. She slid down to the ground next to you and tucked her legs into her chest.

She was flushed with warmth.

You watched with muted confusion. She popped the bag open and flicked a few chips into her mouth. She crunched away, lost in thought. After a while the chips tired her because she set the bag aside and pulled a handful of full-length Slim Jims from her sleeves.

One of them slid in front of you.

“Want one?” She asked.

You blinked and straightened up against the wall. “Huh?” You went a little slack jawed.

“Slim Jim. They taste like plastic mud, but I have plenty. Do you want one?”

You looked at her placid face, then back to the faux-jerky. You saw her pat herself down. You saw her roll her sleeves up and empty her pockets. Curiosity piqued. “How...how did you..?”

She shrugged. “I have my tricks.” Not knowing what else to do, you took the plastic stick from her hand.

“Most of the stuff in the store was past the use-by date anyway,” she said, taking another drink of milk. “Check your burrito.”

You looked at the date on the wrapper and groaned.

“Calm down. It can't taste that much worse.” She pulled an oversized burrito package out of her cargo pants. “Hope not, at least.”

She ripped the plastic open. Steam rose into the cool air.

Your brow drew together in disbelief. She went nowhere near the gas station's microwave, no way it was heated indoors. Could the inside of her clothing be hot enough to cook the thing? “Do you have a toaster oven hidden in there too?” you asked. She shook her head.

“Afraid not,” she replied, almost disappointed.

“Then how did-”

“Have my tricks,” she said with whisked simplicity.

You laughed. She was good. Out of all the years in your life, you've only shoplifted once. It was a pack of peanut butter cups when you were eleven years old. You couldn't even find the stomach to eat the things. Paranoia drove you to the point of burying them in the backyard after everyone went to bed.

You tore open your burrito and took a bite. The beef tasted only a little expired. The two of you ate in silence. Plastic wrappers crackled on the sidewalk.

You put your trash in the bag along with a handful of napkins. You looked towards her. Her head angled down. Fingers traced the yellow and white graphic pattern on the chip bag. “So, what's your name?” you asked.

She snapped up as if pulled from reverie. “My name?”

“Yeah.”

She blinked and her lips moved soundlessly. For a moment she looked lost. “My name...” Her lips tightened. “Erica.” She nodded. “Yes. Erica. My name's Erica.” She looked at you, eyes bright underneath her hoodie. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” you replied. You told her your name and she ate a potato chip in response. The two of you fell back into silence.

Your mind wandered while you gazed at the studded night sky. Your hand reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone to play some music. Of course the battery was dead. It must've been very late to have forgotten that.

Erica took note of the small black rectangle in your hand.

“Can I see?” she asked.

You handed the phone over to the shoplifter. It was a useless stinking piece anyway. You'd almost pay someone to steal it from you. She turned it over in her hands with great interest.

“Cool phone,” she said.

You snorted and replied “Not really.” The word “cool” was never used in conjunction with your phone. The words didn't even belong in the same paragraph. She pressed the buttons.

“It won't turn on. The battery's dead. I'll have to charge it once some plugs free up inside,” you explained.

Her fingers slid around the phone's edges and circled buttons. She pulled off her striped gloves, balling them up with care and set them in a pocket. Turned out she was wearing three pairs. Long, dark fingers were revealed. She flexed her hands before running a thumb across the charger outlet. You heard a small pop of static. Her nails tapped the case and pressed a button. The screen flashed to life.

“Nice wallpaper,” she observed.

You eyes widened in search for words. That was cheating. Your phone was deader than door nails. Its soul left this earth several hundred miles back and was floating in heaven with that awful toilet and AC unit.

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up, what did you just do? And if you say it's a trick, then you better start explaining, because I want to learn that one.” You half-entertained the idea that the static built up from her ruffling clothes zapped the battery with enough juice to pull it from the land of the dead.

“I just turned it on.”

You shook your head. “I've been trying to turn it on all afternoon. I couldn't get a flicker out of it.”

Erica shrugged as she navigated to your music. “Maybe you don't know how to work it.”

Blankness overtook your mind and your mouth hung open, dumfounded. “Sure. I don't know how to work a phone with a dead battery. That sort of tech-savvy is completely beyond me.”

“You should read the manual better next time.” Her lips pursed.

The cloth rim of her hood splashed with the light of your phone. The screen blinked and slid around pictures and sounds at the peck of her fingertips. Clips of music chirped on the corner of the bus terminal. Songs shuffled at a rapid pace until the opening notes of one caught her attention.

“This song's pretty good,” she said.

You checked the track listed and nodded. “Yeah, I like that one a lot.” She looked too distracted by your phone to elaborate on her electronic Lazarus trick.

“A lot of your songs suck, kinda.” Her tone was observant and bland. There was little room to defend your musical taste. You couldn't muster the effort to feel affronted. “But not all of them,” she added.

“Thanks,” you replied.

She put the phone down between you both. Words that belonged to neither of you floated upwards, yet the air felt quiet asides from the indecipherable chatter from fellow flotsam and the passing roar of cars and their trailing headlights.

“I'm going to look through your pictures,” she declared and snatched your phone. In half a second her hands danced on the touchscreen and spilled some of your private indulgences.

“Oh, she's hot. Wow. You're into that huh? Heh.”

Your hands scrabbled to reclaim your phone and scraps of pride. “Hey, hey, hey!” you cried. “You don't just...aw, that one?” You checked the picture on the screen. “Yeah, it's great.” You shook your head. “No, I mean it's not great. Jesus, you don't go slip and sliding through someone's pictures!”

She shrugged. “Why not? I'm a stranger, what do you care what I think?”

Your words crammed in an effort to come out. “Those are private. C'mon. And why would you care what I have on my phone? It's all personal and. Etiquette. And.” You blabbered and felt your cheeks redden.

“Should've hid them better, then.”Her lips slid into a small curve.

You gawked. “I did hide them.” You backed far out of the album, embarrassed, but relieved.

“Not good enough.” She put a handful of chips in her mouth and crunched away while you tried to explain the meaning of personal privacy. The song still played, oblivious to your confusion.

“I was just curious,” she explained.

“Well, ask next time.” You stared straight ahead and put the phone away from her. “Crap.” An unprecedented indignity flurried in your stomach.

She turned towards you, bouncing her hood. “May I look at the dirty pictures on your phone?” she asked in a tedious voice.

“No.”

She looked forward again and knocked her knees together. “If I wasn't a stranger would you let me look?”

“What do you think?”

“I'm trying to get a handle on the way you think. You're being inconsistent.” She gave a look that declared you to be an irrational human.

“No, I'm being protective over what's mine,” you tried to say with some firmness, but your voice limped off in uncertainty.

“Do you want another Slim Jim? Will that help?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why are you so interested?”

She shrugged the same way a bird hops -quick and light. “Just a little bored, I guess.”

You pointed to the highway. “You were sitting on a bus for eight hours and didn't move a muscle, where did all this curiosity come from?”

Her lips came together. “So you were watching me on the bus?”

You closed your eyes. “No. No, I wasn't 'watching' you. I just noticed. That you weren't moving. Honestly, when I poked you on the bus I wanted to make sure you weren't dead.”

She thought about that. “I wasn't, though.”

“I see that now,” you said, nodding.

“But thanks for checking.”

You waved your left hand. “Sure. Yeah, no problem.”

“But,” she probed, “what if I was dead?”

“Then I'd tell the bus driver and get off that thing real fast.”

Silence would've fallen if it weren't for the music. You tried to relax but that would take a long while to achieve, especially sitting out on the concrete. Going inside did not present any particular allure at the moment.

“I was thinking,” Erica said.

“Hm?”

Her head gestured to the terminal behind her. “On the bus. I was thinking.”

You turned towards her. “About what? The smell?”

“What smell?”

You shook your head and told her you couldn't believe she didn't notice the god-awful reek on the bus.

Her eyebrows lowered in straightforward admittance.“I get a bit lost when I think.”

You pulled a knee up as a resting spot for your left arm. “You must've been real lost then. Take me with you next time. That ride sucked.”

Her laughed sounded like someone throwing a handful of gravel. “Alright. I can do that.” She showed a cut of straight white teeth in her smile. “Tell me where you're going.”

“Where I'm going?” You sounded surprised.

“Yes.”

You chewed your tongue and thought 'screw it.' You told her the name of the city you've been winding towards. She pulled some napkins out of her pocket and wiped chip crumbs off her hands. For a moment it seemed she lost all interest before speaking up.

“That's funny. I'm heading there too,” she announced.

You frowned. “You're lying.”

“No, I am.”

“Lemme see your ticket, then.”

She reached two fingers into the depths of her coat and thrust the ticket towards you like a knife point. You read the destination, and yes, it was identical to your own. You handed it back to her with loose suspicion.

“Okay,” you conceded. “I never thought it was anyplace special myself.” You crossed your arms.

She leaned close. “So why are you going there?”

“There's just a little place I want to check on. I have some business to take care of,” you said with more weight than intended. You looked away from her.

Erica's hazel eyes flashed with the yellow lights of a passing car. “Is it...business-business or...” she pressed on the foot of the next word, “personal business?”

You looked at her from the corner of your vision. She edged near and smelled your hesitation.

“Remember, I'm a stranger. Who cares what I think, right?”

You relented, figuring she wouldn't ease up unless you threw her a few bread crumbs. “It's personal. Very personal.”

“Oh wow, are you going to beat someone up?”

“What? No, of course not.”

She reeled back and raised a finger. “Meeting an old girlfriend?”

“No.”

She raised another finger. “Job interview? Didn't think so. You're not dressed for it.” Three fingers raised. “Seeing family? Did someone die?”

You dipped into silence. “There's just...a little place I want to see.”

She spread her hand open and backed off.“Okay. Fair enough. Mysterious cross country journey, I can dig it.” She hid away the small horde of contraband. “Are you sure you don't want another Slim Jim?” She waved the red package around. You shook your head and she stashed the jerky into hidden places. Erica pulled the gloves form her coat.

You rubbed your arms to shake off the cold. “What about you?” You asked. “What's the reason for your trip?”

Her hood jumped like she wasn't expecting the question. “My reason?” You saw her lips move beneath the cowl. Finger by finger, she put each layer of her gloves back on. “I'm looking for something.”

“What kind of something?”

“I don't know,” she said.

“Are you being mysterious or do you really not know why you're,” you gestured to the landscape, “why you're sitting on the ground in the middle of nowhere to start with?”

“Sort of?”

“Oh boy.”

“I don't see the problem.”

“I see a lot of problems. Like not knowing what to do next, that's a little scary.”

“Maybe.” She knocked her knees together once. “But you're a stranger, so I don't care what you think.” Her neck bobbed left and right. “It's just...hm. Takes a bit of impulse and improvisation. Nothing a smart person can't whip up. It keeps things interesting, I suppose.” She frowned. “You keep shivering, are you okay?” You assured her you felt fine, but she shook her head. “Dummy, you should've brought a coat. And you think I'm being irresponsible.”

“I can go back inside.”

“But do you want to?”

You checked your phone. It was fully charged. Other than the comparative indoor warmth, you had no desire to be in the terminal. The people around you dropped to zero. Anyone fortunate to have a ride from this purgatory was gone. The chill drove everyone else inside.

“Here.” Erica scooted closer and linked her arm with your own. Body heat flowed into you and stilled the shivering. Her raised leg bounced against your own. The baggy folds of her cargo pants ruffled. You were about to say something before she leaned her head on your shoulder. The soft cushioning of her hair could be felt beneath the hood. Cotton tickled your ear.

“Is that better?”she asked.

Your free fingers rubbed against your palm. Her approach was uninvited, but the warmth was welcome. “Yeah, actually,” you admitted.

“It's nicer out here anyway.” Her eyes looked up. You could only nod. Her voice floated downwards. “I can think better out here.”

You shifted to her. “Still not done thinking?”

She shook her head. “No. I've got a lot of that to do. But don't let me keep you up, if you're feeling tired.” Your lids were heavy, and mind a bit stiff. Odd how exhaustion can effect a person, even after sitting down all day. “Our bus isn't coming until morning anyhow.”

You wondered if you should trust her to wake you up. There was a possibility she'd swipe your bag, your phone, hop on the bus, and leave you alone on the sidewalk.

A possibility, yes.

Despite knowing her for all of an hour, you don't quite think she'd do that. 'Screw it,' you thought for the second time that night. It's not like this entire trip was based on good judgment. Besides, the thought of losing your meager possessions didn't cause much stress.

“I won't look through your dirty phone pictures if you doze off. Promise.”

That made you feel much better.

“But do me a favor,” she asked.

“Hm?”

Her voice turned wispy. “The song playing right now? It sucks. Turn it off.”

You fumbled at the phone and quieted the device.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Your eyes closed by themselves. The world dropped into a natural silence toned with long-traveling winds, distant passing clouds and the rise and fall of her chest beneath layers and layers of clothing. The sound of Erica's slow, steady breathing brushed away any unease. You were almost aware of her fingers wrapping around your own before drifting into dreams.

-

Erica woke you up six minutes before departure time. She nudged you in the ribs with the tip of her ungainly boot. The sun was barely over the horizon line when you rose off the ground in a drowsy panic. Your rear and calves crowed with stiff, prickled pains that came with sleeping on the sidewalk.

Morning obligations alerted themselves after your legs came to working order. “Uh,” squeezed your eyes. “We have six minutes?”

“Five minutes, now.”

“Ergh. I gotta use the bathroom,” you groaned. You had no intention of being the guy to break next bus's toilet.

“I don't. I'll be on the bus. See you there.” She waved to you and went inside. You trailed in a scatter-shot hustle.

By a miracle of determination and speed you took care of business with enough time to wash your hands and zip your fly. You almost tripped over yourself in the rush to get outside and on board. You saw Erica in her seat through the window. She noted you, held up a pair of fingers and mouthed “Two minutes.” You raised your arms in a “don't rag me” gesture.

You climbed into the bus and thumped down in the seat next to her. She didn't bother looking away from the window. Her sitting position was identical from yesterday.

“You did that on purpose, didn't you?”you huffed.

“Waking you up?” she muttered. “Yeah.”

“No, I meant waking me up late.”

“You're on the bus, right? You got your plumbing work done. That's just good timing. Feel proud,” she sang.

“I don't need that kind of stress at this hour,” you said while sliding your backpack under the seat.

Erica shook her head without looking at you. “Gripe, gripe, gripe...”

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, fighting off morning grogginess. “Fine, fine. Thank you for waking me up. Kind of in time. Next time I'll set my alarm clock, though.”

“If that makes you feel better.”

“I don't think it would, really. Not on my phone.” She made a noncommittal noise. “So how'd you sleep?” you asked.

“I didn't.”

You frowned. “Really? All night, you just sat there?” She nodded.“Well...I guess a hobo didn't come up and stab me in the night, so thanks for keeping an eye out.”

“There were a few homeless,” she replied. “Me and them talked for a bit. I gave them some snacks and they went on.”

“Oh. That was nice of you.”

“Nice...” her tone was ponderous. She dug into the depths of her many clothes and handed you something wrapped in plastic. “Here. Since I guess you couldn't snag any breakfast.”

She gave you the Star Crunch grabbed from last night. You accepted it, looking a little hazy-eyed. “Thanks.” You flipped it over in your hand. “Wait. You're not giving this to me because you think I'm homeless, are you?”

She rested her head against the seat. “Are you homeless?”

“No.”

“Okay then.”

The wheels turned. The bus moved. You pulled the chocolate snack cake out of the plastic. “It's been a while since I've had one of these. I always loved them as a kid.”

“You had a doe-eyed look when you were staring at 'em last night.”

“Is that why you grabbed it?”

Her fingers drummed on the side of her coat. “It drew my attention. I guess I wanted to see the look on your face.”

At the moment you only saw the back of her hoodie and the light reflection of her face in the window, making it difficult to judge her expression. “And how was it? The look on my face?”

“A little flabbergasted,” she answered. You didn't like the idea of someone using that word to describe you. “A little concerned. Especially when that fat guy at the counter tried to call me out. You were staring at me a lot last night, weren't you?”

“You kept doing so many interesting things, how could I not?

Her reflection smiled. “Guess I was.”

The bus moved at a steady speed. “You know, I never stole anything before. That was my first time.”

You leaned forward in your seat, a little surprised. “Serious?” She nodded. “That had to be the slickest escape I've ever seen.” Although you couldn't recall seeing anyone steal or escape for that matter.

“I was freaking out on the inside.”

“You didn't show it.”

“Well.” Erica scratched the back of her head. “Maybe that's not the right word. I could've paid for it if push came to shove. I guess I felt something else. A thrill. That's it.”

“From taking stuff?”

“Not exactly. I was...I was more interested in seeing how everyone else reacted. Little girl in a gas station late at night, so obviously up to no good. Taking things that aren't hers, but then it turns out that she doesn't have anything. That'd stir a few people, right?”

You scratched your chin.“The guy could've called the cops.”

Erica blinked. “That late at night? At his salary? No,” she shook her head. “He doesn't get paid enough to deal with that kind of bull. The writing was all over his forehead. Would've been exciting if he did, though.”

“I don't think I like your idea of 'exciting.'”

“Most people have a sucky idea of 'exciting,'” she said with surprising harshness. “It's only exciting as long as they're safe. As long as they can come back to,” she raised her sleeve and spun her hand around, “whatever it is they're comfortable with at a moment's notice. Houses and cars with a good radio. Restaurants that pass health inspections. Cities with good cell phone reception. People don't want excitement, they want a safety net.”

That sounded like a reasonable position for most people to take. She was skirting around an idea with a fundamental difference from 'excitement.' “You're talking about danger.”

Erica's arm hovered in the air. “Danger? Maybe, but I can handle that. No worries at all, I can handle that,” she sounded a little grim. You suppressed a shiver, but you're not sure why. “But what I'm after is...I'm not sure, actually.” She deflated a little and a beat of silence passed. “Something new.”

You studied her reflection in the window. She wasn't smiling. “Is that why you're on this bus? You're looking for something new?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I'm just...not sure what that 'new' is.” She scratched the length of her arm. “I'm finding little new things here and there. But I'm waiting for it all to come together. I'm looking for something big.” She drew her arm inwards and said nothing more.

You tried to figure her exact age. She overflowed with a lot more youthful energy than you could ever remember having, that was certain. The girl spoke with an abandon that felt naive, maybe even reckless. But an almost physical drive capable of tearing down walls lurked behind her words

After all, Erica did slide out of the gas station scott-free, and there was the unexplained matter of her phone-charging fingertips. These matters scratched the bottom of your brain-stem, but she showed no intention of explaining herself anytime soon.

A rumbling from your stomach caught your attention. You pulled the Star Crunch out and snapped it in half. The two halves bounced in your hand and you spoke up.

“I'm not that hungry,” you said and handed her a piece. She turned around, looking first at your hand and then at you.

“Oh,” she smiled a little and took the cake. She pulled the cookie to her mouth but frowned right before taking a bite. Her hand lowered by a centimeter. “You don't think I'm homeless now, do you?”

“Honestly? I'm not sure what to think of you.”You ate your half.

Erica laughed and said“That's good.” She took one bite, as if in victory, and turned to the window.

You dropped the plastic wrapper beneath the seat. “You're trying to be mysterious again, aren't you?”

She didn't respond.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

“Earth to Erica.”

Her arm drifted in the space between you. Her hand went to your head level. Erica raised a single gloved finger and pressed it against your lips.

“Shhh...” her voice was a textured puff. Her hand withdrew.

You touched your mouth and looked at her in the window. Her eyes were unblinking, and focused on something that you didn't think anyone but her could see. She had Thinking to do. You couldn't say how long she'd be lost in her own little world.

The bus ran over a rough patch of road. You jostled in your seat. The girl didn't budge.

-

Erica woke you up again. Your neck cricked as she tapped you back to the land of the living. You'd kill for a proper bed to sleep in.

“You snore loud,” she stated, lips moving no more than necessary.

“Are we there yet?” You checked the windows. The roadside rolled along at a quick pace. The sun lowered notably in the interim.

“I wish, but no. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Like what?”

“Like, what are you looking for? Your personal business, understand? I want to pry in it.”

“Why?”

She frowned, thinking your want for an explanation was unreasonable.“I'm bored, and interested. You interest me, even though you're boring.”

“Can't you go back to thinking and let me sleep?”

She shook her head in the gravest manner. “I can't. Not until you tell me all of your personal secrets.”

You frowned. “All of them?”

“Hmm,” she considered, “Maybe not all of them. But come. Let us make conversation. I told you something about myself, I want to hear about you.” She smiled, but her eyes looked hungry. “It's critical.”

The gravity in her voice spooked you a little. You needed to know your position in this battle. “How much time left until we get there?”

She thought. “About six hours. If nothing goes wrong, that is.” She bit her lip and for all the world hoped something would go wrong.

“And you won't let me sleep until I tell you something, huh?

She shook her head.

You rubbed your forehead. “Jesus. Okay. Let's kill some time then.”

Erica bit her lip, excited. Her legs fluttered up and down as she turned to face your direction.

“I'm going to an ice cream shop,” you said and followed up with a groan because of how lame that sounded to you.

Her eyes narrowed and she scrutinized your face. “You're screwing with me, aren't you?”

You shook your head and fidgeted in the polyester seat, feeling an immense discomfort coming on. Dimples sprouted on Erica's face. She smelled amusement in the air and loved it. “I'm being honest here. Honest. It's so dumb, why would I make it up?”

“Why do you think it's dumb? I mean, irrational maybe, but if it gets your rear in gear and gets you moving, then it can't be completely stupid. At least you have a solid destination in mind, right?”

“I suppose...” You looked away from her.

Her wrist slid under her chin. “So. Tell me about the ice cream place. Is it fancy? It's not a Baskin Robins, is it? Because if you're going through all this just to get thirty one flavors you can score anywhere else, then yes. Yes, that is dumb.”

“No, it's not a Baskin Robins or Marble Slab or any franchise place like that. It's a local joint. You know -the kind of store ran by an old guy wearing a pin-stripe apron and white hat? One that looks like a paper boat?”

Coming out of your own mouth it sounded like load of pre-packaged, microwaved bullshit. Erica had the good grace not to say as much, even if her expression betrayed her.

“I thought those places went extinct with like, drive-in theaters and Galapagos tortoises,” she said.

You shrugged. “Even when I was little I knew it was old-fashioned. The place was never that crowded, but it was, y'know. It was nice. My mom would take me, my brother, and my sisters there some days after school or on weekends. In summer the guy who ran the place -his name was Mr. Sanderson, would give you double ice cream scoops for your floats.”

“How generous,” she leaned on the armrest dividing the two of you.

“No, no, the man was a genius.”

“Tell me how he was a genius.”

You laughed. “Okay, this is, he did this thing. He made a big show about making coke floats with grape soda. He'd dump two fat scoops of vanilla ice cream into these tall glasses and flood it with purple soda 'til the fizz would spill over the rim.” You could almost see the treat sitting in front of you on a stained but well-polished wooden counter Purple foam bubbled with soft, cold cream.

Your hands curved over an invisible, frothing mug. “Swear to God, the thing was this huge. There were four of us, and one was more than enough.” Erica looked on as if seeing it too.

“Sounds great.”

“It was great. Here's the kicker -guess what he called them.”

She bit her lip and looked to the top of her head. “Hmm. Is Grapes of Wrath too obvious? What about Lilac Lunacy? Purple Haze? Purple People Eaters? Going Grape Shit?”

“You genuinely think those are clever names, don't you?”

Her vigorous nod was infectious. You shook your head, almost sorry to disappoint her, and revealed the name with the gravity of a weapons tester. “Purple Cow.”

“Oh hell,” she spat and couldn't stop smiling. “I have to see this place for myself. It sounds too rinky-dink to be true. You're either a liar, hallucinatory, or a time traveler.”

“Why in God's name would I lie about this?” Your palms opened up in hapless honesty. “It's dumb.”

She shook her head. “I said the place sounded rinky-dink.” Erica's eyes closed and she said “Maybe even dorky, but not dumb.” She raised a finger. “That's a big difference. Understand?”

“Not really, but I'll say I do.”

“You're being lazy now.” Her hand rose from under her chin to her cheek. “Alright, so this place is the bomb with the bombest coke floats, right?”

“Mr. Sanderson kept a Pac-Man arcade machine in the corner too.”

“Bomb ice cream and bomb arcade games. Got it. So. I know where you're going. You've told me what they have at the place you're going. But why-oh-why are you going?”

You took a deep breath and let the seat slide back as far as it'd go, which wasn't that far. “Could be I decided to leave for no reason at all.”

Her eyes shed their amusement. “Would you do that? Really? Hop on a bus with nothing but a ragged backpack and a ticket to nowhere?”

The challenge in her voice caught you off guard. The look on her face told you that laughing was a bad course of action. “You put a lot of weight on spontaneity, don't you?”

She blinked and looked uncertain of her words and surroundings. Her body inched away from you. “People,” she began, “and their impulses. It just,” her right hand waved over her hood. “People can drive me crazy sometimes.”

“Call this a cruel assumption, but you've probably driven more than a few people crazy, am I right?” Her eyes darted downwards and her mouth formed a shape that blurred the lines between a guilty 'yes,' 'no, and “I'm not sure.”

Odds were that would be the clearest answer she'd give for now. You decided to move on. “I'll come clean with you. This little vacation isn't a spur of the moment decision...although it's not exactly well thought-out.”

She stared unblinking and then moved only her lips. “Go on.”

“I don't know what I'll do after I get there. No, that's a lie. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to order the fattest Purple Cow the old man has on tap and I'll sit on the counter and stay there until he locks up.”

“And after that?”

“No idea in the slightest,” you declared with a combination of lunacy and dread.

A hint of a smile returned to her. “So you're making this up as you go along?”

“Eh...No less than you are. At least I have a solid destination in mind.”

Erica rocked back and forth in slow contemplation. “You still haven't told me why you're going.”

You let out a long exhalation. “I need to get some thoughts in order.” You pointed in the opposite direction the bus was moving. “Back there? I couldn't think back there. No way. I'm hoping I can find a little bit of, I dunno, peace. I'm looking for a little bit of time and space where I can make sense of things. I don't think I'll find it in a soda shop ripped out of a hallmark card, but really, I can't think of anyplace else. It's a start.” You scratched your ear. “I guess.”

Erica stopped rocking.

“Let me tell you something,” you continued, “I'm a little bit jealous of your ability to zone out and think for hours on end. I'd pay all the money in the world and a good chunk of my soul to do that right now.”

She looked you over again and asked “So why do you need to make sense of things?”

For a moment the only noise was the sound of the bus driving over paved highway. “Might be the same reason you're looking for something new. Besides, isn't that what everyone wants?”

She fell into silence, satisfied for the moment. Questions and trains of thought piled up in your mind, but there was no hope of untangling any of it.

"Something You Might Like"

The leg of your journey made on combustion engines and turning wheels came to an end. With little ceremony you left the bus terminal and threw away your ticket. This trip was one-way.

The mid-afternoon sun idled overhead. You and Erica walked down sidewalks and street crossings. Your purpose was apparent, but not urgent. No point in rushing things. Erica twirled around you, staring at buildings, passing cars, and the ebb and flow of pedestrians.

She touched your arm.

“Do you know where we are?”

You read a street sign. “Kinda.” You pointed to a tall building covered in green window work on the skyline. “But it won't take long to get oriented. That tower's part of the medical district. I'll work east and then my memory will come back. Give me...I don't know, half an hour to get my bearings. Two hours to get where I want to go, we'll probably take a transit.”

“Works for me,” she said, distracted by a cluster of neurotic birds.

The wind blew over your shoulders. “Have you ever been here before?”

She grabbed a street light with her cotton gloves and spun in a smooth, sliding circle. “Not once in my entire life,” she said with no small amount of cheer.

You stopped mid-stride. “What?”

“Never been here at all. I didn't know about this place until it the name was printed on my bus ticket.”

The word 'reckless' floated in your mind.

“You have no idea what you're doing here, do you?”

Erica laughed. “I'm just following you, really.”

“Why?” Horror and disbelief rose in your voice. “Do you know how terrible an idea that is?”

She shrugged hard enough to bounce her baggy overcoat. “That doesn't bug me too much. I said I can take care of myself. I'm more worried about you.”

“Well, you don't need to be. Christ, I'm,” You shook your head. “You're lying to me. I'm going to pretend you're playing a trick and tell myself that you have an apartment and a roommate here in town and you're just tagging along with me for laughs.”

“Whatever makes you feel better,” she rang.

“It does. It makes me feel lots better.” Nervous energy made you walk faster.

“You're lucky my mind's not in the right place,” you called over your shoulder. “No sane person would follow me. And sane or no, not many people would let you tag along to satisfy some half-baked whim.”

The two of you stopped at a knot of pedestrians waiting at a street crossing. They did the usual pedestrian thing -listening to music, talking on phones, to each other, or to no one.

Erica hopped in front of you and slipped her hand in a man's back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

Your lips tightened and your eyes widened to the size of spotlights. Erica slipped the cigarettes into another man's jeans, from which she pulled out a string of condoms. She replaced the man's missing smokes with them. Neither noticed.

Erica hummed to herself as her hands picked and swapped the pocket inventories of almost everyone present. Bubble gum was switched out with a can opener which was switched with a phone which was switched with a folded note that had “I love you” scrawled over it.

The people never caught onto the pair of hands rummaging through their rears. The walking sign flashed and they all walked forward. Erica headed off but you grabbed her shoulders, almost making her trip over her huge boots.

“Hey, c'mon,” she yelped, surprised.

“Just. No. No.” You watched as the people crossed the road. Some of them kept going forward after making it to the other side. Some turned right. Some turned left. The group dispersed, never once to meet like that ever again. “They have no idea, do they?”

“Not yet.”

You turned Erica around. “What the hell was that?”

“I dunno.”

“Crap in a hand basket, what the hell was that?”

More people gathered at the sidewalk's edge to await the cross sign.

“Just making things a little more interesting,” she said. Her hands raised and she went for the nearest back pocket like a coyote.

“No!” You jumped behind her, grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her side. “No!” You repeated. An older man turned around and saw an apologetic-looking guy holding both hands of a very annoyed-looking girl. He frowned and went back to his own business.

Erica grunted. “C'mon, it's just a bit of fun. I was on a bus for...ugh, for too long. I need to vent.”

“Vent in a way that won't get you arrested, please.”

She wrested her wrists out of your grip. “Fine, whatever.” She crossed her arms. “You better believe I'll get you for this later.”

“What do you mean 'get me for this?' I just want to cross the street without getting -hey where are you going?”

Erica took great strides across the street with her long legs. A car blared past her. And another. Her jacket rippled in acknowledgment, but little else.

“Jesus, I don't need this.” You sprinted into the road and tapped the hood of a delivery truck that skidded to a stop and wouldn't stop honking. You made it across the road without getting hit by anything more serious than insults and insinuations to your intelligence.

Huffing, you caught up to Erica. “There's a little rule I like to abide by when I'm in strange cities, want to hear about it?”

She pulled her hoodie tighter.

“It's 'Don't walk in front of traffic and pickpocket strangers.' It's a good rule. Big Bird talked about it on Sesame Street all the time.”

Her chin moved underneath the hood. “Well that sounds like a fantastic rule for you to follow,” the rich timbre of her voice lent itself well to her soured mood. Her pace quickened.

“No, no, I'd encourage people all over to follow it.”

“Why's that, huh?”

You felt exhausted already. “Is it that hard to understand? I don't want to see you get questioned by men in uniforms or smeared across the street by a heavy truck.” The thought of her getting hurt upset your stomach.

She halted and about faced. You almost crashed into her, instead she placed an open hand firmly on your chest that seemed to absorb all your momentum. “Don't worry about me,” she stressed. “I'll be more than okay. How many times do I have to say that?”

“How many more times are you going to do something crazy?”

She tapped her boot. “If I keep my hands to myself, will you take me to your damn ice cream place without,” She raised her hands “freaking out?”

You snagged her rational mood and did not intend to let go. “Yes. You behave, and I'll take you straight to the shop, no distractions.”

She put her hands in a pair of her many pockets and put on a smile so sweet it spiked your blood sugar. “I'll be a good girl, I promise.”

You took a cautious step away from her as if she'd explode from any sudden movements. “Okay. Cool.” The two of you returned to a steady walking pace. “I still don't know why you want to come.”

“You really sold me on that coke float.”

“Anyone ever call you a bold-faced liar?”

“I'm interested, even though you're a dull killjoy. Anyone willing to travel this far to visit an old childhood haunt is worth tagging along with for a bit. And I'm on a journey of,” she threw her head back and skipped for two steps. “wild self-discovery, remember? Rite of passage and all that,” she said with no sincerity at all.

She bumped you with her hips. “Gotta have a little impulsive fun.”

You couldn't get to that ice cream parlor fast enough.
-

Some few hours later the streets matched up with the dusty pictures in your mind. Old building fit into old slots in your memories, even if they had different names and the paint coats changed.

“We're getting close,” you told Erica. She gained an extra spring in her step, and she was springy to begin with. “I think...I....yeah, that street...so,” You closed your eyes to look at your mental map. “We turn left here.

You turned left.

Some of the buildings in the neighborhood looked run down. Storefronts were dusty. Windows seemed barren. Cars didn't cruise down the pavement in great number or with great purpose. The handfuls of people on the sidewalks paid no heed to the shops that bothered to put up an 'OPEN' sign. You frowned.

“A little more threadbare than I remembered.”

Erica's eyes leapt from signs to sprigs of weeds coming up through concrete cracks and back again.

Soggy newspapers clogged the gutters. Old beer bottles and cigarettes butts lined themselves in grooves and crannies. About the only sign of continued prosperity came from a barbershop and a used electronics store.

“Sanderson's place is going to be on the next street,” you said with a distracted lack of enthusiasm. Your hands went into your pockets without much notice.

You turned the corner.

You walked a few yards and stopped.

“Damn,” you whispered. Erica was silent.

The wide, wooden post that read “Sanderson's Soda Shoppe” could hardly be read from the chipping and weathering. Years of rain and uncaring sunlight cracked and washed away the red and white cursive letters. Flaky plywood sprayed over with skittle-colored graffiti and wads of ancient gum covered the windows. Lazy weed sentinels huddled in rows around the entrance. The door listed an incomplete list of operating hours. Above hung a sun-faded sign that read 'CLOSED.'

You looked up and down the street. There were no other souls asides from Erica and yourself.

“Okay.” You stared at the concrete beneath your feet and dropped a loose nod. “Nothing to be surprised about,” you muttered. “Places like this close down all the time. It was a relic anyhow.”

Erica uncrossed her arms.

“I'm surprised the old man managed to hang onto the place for so long. He gave it a good run,” you bit your lip. “Real good run.” You slumped along the brick wall. “Shit.”

Erica looked the building over from the bottom to the top. “Wanna go inside?”

“Come again?”

“Inside. Wanna go? It'd be pretty pointless if we walked all this way and you didn't even give me a tour of the place.

You turned and read the orange CLOSED sign again. “I don't think there's much inside to show off,” you said. “Unless you want to gawk at dust.”

She shook her head, groaning at your lack of imagination, then stomped off to the building's side. The sound of her footsteps disappeared down the thin walkway between the the shop. “Screw it,” you whispered and trailed her.

Behind the building was an alley with an old, rusted dumpster, plentiful weeds, and wind-blown litter. Erica rapped her knuckles on the brick work until she knocked on the back door. A heavy, rusty chain and padlock was wrapped around the handle. She knocked again, harder, and pressed her ear against it.

“Hm. I don't hear anything.”

“That 's because you're wearing a hood.” Jesus, she'd hadn't taken that thing off for the whole trip. You noted the utter lack of disagreeable body odor coming from her. What did her hair look like? Why the didn't she sweat? She hadn't even-

“Looks like nobody's home,”she lilted. “Do you think anyone'll mind if we let ourselves in?”

You a nudged plastic coke bottle aside with your shoe tip. “Probably not.”

“Ah, nice. I'd hate to make someone mad.” Erica flexed her fingers and looked at her gloved hand. She rattled the door lever a few times. The black chain swung and clanked in aggressive resistance. She tapped on the links, bent over, and blew on the locks. She kicked the door's base.

An intense fascination boiled up inside. You tried to hide it. It was clear Erica wanted to make a show of this. “Are you preparing another special trick?”

She looked at you with bright hazel eyes and winked. Even bundled up in that unflattering fashion, you couldn't help but notice the curve of her back in her generous bend as she looked at you. A splinter chill shot up your spine.

Erica wrapped her fingers around the door handle and pushed. The padlock swung loose and the chain fell apart link by iron link. A small rain of metal clattered and clanked on the ground. Erica pushed the creaking door open as if it led to a haunted house. “Abra kadabra,” she said with a show woman's nonchalance.

There was no point in asking how she did it. She wouldn't tell. If Erica considered herself a magician then she'd keep her secrets close to the chest under her many, many layers. She stepped back from the door and gestured inside. Loose cloth dangled off the limb. “All yours,” she smiled. “Go first.”

You scooped up a broken chain link as you past her. You flicked the iron into the air and caught it with a flourish. Erica paid you no mind and scratched her forearm.

You stepped inside. She followed.

Hot and stuffy air clogged your lungs. It tasted dusty, thick, and stale. Plastic jugs and containers lined a few rickety racks standing in the back room. You smelled mold and pieces of droppings from rats and other low things. The rectangle of light from the open door lit little, and none of it encouraging.

“Hold on,” you pulled out your phone and turned the flashlight on before heading further inside. “Uh. Close the door, in case someone walks by. They'll think we're breaking in.”

“We are breaking in.”

“Then they'll know we're breaking in.”

Erica closed the door. She hovered close behind you and the flashlight.

“I've never been back here before,” you said. “This must be the supply room.” You shone the light around and found a staircase and a dingy looking door -probably for a closet or the mechanical room. A wedge of light filtered under a wide, important looking door. “Here, this looks like it heads to the front.”

The door opened easily. The plywood boarding on the windows left enough space to let the sun cast a dim slice of light within. Dust tracked across the floor as the two of you stepped into the dining area of Sanderson's Soda Shoppe.

The wooden service bar was still there, covered in dirt, a few chips of ceiling, and tracks from mice. The soda fountains were gone. A few stools still manned their posts, but the red leather long-since became gnawed and frayed. White cotton poked out from the seams.

A ladder leaned against the wall along with a few buckets. An outline of dirt on the wooden floor marked where the Pac-Man machine once stood. The outlet cover where the machine plugged in was missing.

“Hello,” you called out to the empty room. “It's just me, Mr. Sanderson. I brought a friend.” You sat on a stool and forced it to turn. The ancient thing groaned. “Just two of the usual please. We came a long way, so don't skip on the good stuff.” Elbows plopped on the bar. “Extra cherries on top. I don't mind if they cost extra...”

You heard a mouse nibble on something inside the wall.

Erica made a gradual round across the room, inspecting every growth of mold and torn piece of wallpaper. Her mouth remained neutral, but her eyes were active. She ran her fingers along the walls and flicked useless light-switches. She teased the corners of the bar's edge. Her nostrils flared and she tasted the air.

The girl sat on the stool to your left. It didn't creak. She lay the side of her head on the counter and let out a puff of dirt-scattering air. “You really liked this place, didn't you?”

“I had some good times.” You gave the room another one-over. “I don't think I'll find much perspective here, not now.”

Erica popped her mouth. “Maybe...” her head rose, “I can help you out.” She jumped and slid over the bar, kicking up dust and specks of debris. She stood on the opposite side of you and leaned with her elbows on the counter. She studied at her hands and bit her lip.

Finger by finger, Erica peeled the colorful gloves from her hands. She cracked each knuckle in methodical precession and rubbed her thumbs against each of her brown finger tips. She closed her eyes, almost in hesitation. Erica laid her hands palms-up on the bar. Her long fingers curved gently upwards

“Here. Give me your hands,” she whispered. Your lips compressed. “Go ahead, I'll give them back when I'm done.” Her eyes glimmered with an unexpected cultured patience.

You put your hands within hers. Her fingers wrapped around them. She rubbed her thumbs against the sides of your hands. They felt soft and smooth. Erica's skin was hot, almost oven-like as excess heat radiated into your hands.

“Close your eyes,” she asked. “Please.”

You did so.

“Tell me about this place,” she said in her low, smokey voice.

“What do you want to know?”

Her fingers moved in lazy circles across your hands. “Anything. Start with anything.”

You brought old memories from the back of your mind. “The windows were bright.”

“Bright,” she echoed.

“And...the first thing you noticed when coming inside was the...the smell of ice cream. Vanilla, strawberry, mint, and coffee. He had them all. And popcorn. He sold popcorn here. Covered in tons of salt and butter.”

The sweet, pinched smell of heated kernels and ice cream scooped fresh from the tub drifted into your nose. If you opened your eyes you would’ve sworn a bowl and bag full of the stuff was beneath your chin. Erica exhaled slowly.

“And he always kept the air cold, of course. Felt really good when coming inside. The summers can be brutal here.” You heard an AC rattle to life somewhere far away in time and space. Chilled air flooded down your neck and legs. Your hands still sweltered at Erica's touch, but you didn't care. The foul, stagnant air was banished. You took a deep, refreshing breath.

“Yeah, just like that.”

“Keep going,” she urged.

“And the counter was always polished. The wood shone like it was worth a million dollars. There may have been some stains on the thing, but we didn't care.”

The image of the bar, wide and long enough to hold all the ice cream in the world, conjured itself in your mind. You looked around in your head and in the real world. Your eyes remained closed,yet you still saw it, clear as day.

“Same thing with the floors. Spit polished. The thing sparkled.” The floor glowed to a former glory. “And-and he had this huge soda machine on the back wall. With lots of fountains. And big tubes of syrups labeled with flavors.” The back wall glimmered. A well kept and handsome soda fountain gleamed. Huge containers of syrup for snow cones and milkshakes bubbled into sugary life.

“Show me around,” Erica asked. You kept your eyes closed and stood. She let go of one hand so that you could lead her from behind the bar.

“Here were the booth tables.” Plushy, curved chairs sprouted.

“Did any music play?” she asked, excited.

“Wouldn't be an old-fashioned place if there wasn't a jukebox, right? It was over there by the window.” You pointed with your free hand. She laughed as a bulky, glass-encased record player lit up in neon greens, blues, and reds, and cranked out golden-oldies without so much as putting a quarter in it. Music and faded croons filled your ears.

“And of course Mr. Sanderson would always be behind the bar and every time you came in he'd ask-”

“What can I get for you fine kids today?”

You turned around and there he was. An old man who may have always been old, but whose eyes and smile still spoke of a youth that'd never quite be chased off. He wore a pin-stripe apron and paper-boat hat.

Erica led you back to the stools. You both took a seat. They accepted your weight good-naturedly and without a squeak.

Mr. Sanderson beamed.

“Just the usual,” you said. “And I brought a friend with me, so make it a double, if you please. I don't...mind if it costs extra.”

He tipped his hat and winked. “Can do. One Purple Cow with all the fixins coming right up. I'll make 'er moo real good, just for you.”

You rubbed your forehead and laughed. “Sounds perfect, Mr. Sanderson.”

Erica face brightened as she watched the old expert spin his ice cream scooper into the air. His fingers twirled around the fountains and bins of ice cream like he controlled all of space in his own little corner of the world. He spun a hefty mug in the air and filled it with creams and bubbly sodas that fizzled and foamed like a magic potion.

The old ice cream wizard put two cherries on its creamy top and put the mug on the far end of the counter. With a bare flick of his wrist, the mug glided in between you and Erica. Two spoons and two straws poked from the top of the froth.

“Enjoy, kids.” Sanderson walked off and faded from the world, having business elsewhere.

The fuzz popped and tickled your chin. Erica leaned in, her large eyes enraptured. “How does it taste?” Her voice curled in your ear.

You took the spoon and dug out a generous mound of ice cream and purple soda. The taste in your mouth was equal to a celebration. Your grin and a second spoonful was all that needed to be said.

“Can I have some?” Erica pressed her warm body against your shoulder. You dipped the second spoon into the mug and raised it. She dove in and took the sweet ice cream in her mouth. Her eyes closed and the edges of her mouth tickled upwards. Her tongue licked the bottom of her lip where purple-swirled ice cream dripped off the spoon. She savored the taste a moment before swallowing.

Her eyes twinkled when she said “Worth it.” She slid her stool nearer and pressed even closer to you -the better to get at the Purple Cow. Not that you minded sharing.

The two of you sat on the stools in an ice cream counter that should have never existed and enjoyed yourselves. Spoons clattered against the glass and the two of you made loud slurping noises underneath the old-fashioned rock-n-roll of the jukebox.

“I'm telling you,” you spun the spoon inside the mug for one more taste of the ice cream. “This is just as good as when I came in here with my-”

The door bell rang with cheer. You turned and saw a group of four kids rush in. Two boys and two girls.

Mr. Sanderson's voice rang greetings from an formless void. The kids called out their scattered replies.

“I call the Pac-Man first!” announced a boy.

“Nuh-uh, the ghosts'll just keep eating you,” said a small girl.

You knew those voices. You knew those faces.

“I want to get a banana split, but with popcorn instead of banana.”

“That's sounds gross.”

“Your nose is gross.”

A lady walked in. One of the kids cried “Mom, he said my nose looked gross!”

The women shook her head and said “Keep up the name calling and no one's getti-”

“No,” you muttered. A crack formed in the walls of the shop. Your spoon dropped and shattered the counter. “No way. No.”

The world fell into pieces. Your hand pulled away from Erica's as you sprung out of your seat and tripped. Your elbow crashed against the dirtied floor. The noise from the jukebox screeched into silence and the stool tipped over in a clamor.

Your eyes stung even though there was very little light in the abandoned parlor.

Erica pinched the bridge of her nose as if suffering from a migraine. “What was that?” she strained.

“Why did you bring them in here?” you groaned from the floor. Anger painted the edge of your voice.

“Wh-what?”

“How did you...aw dammit.” You rose on your knees to the protest of your stomach. The taste of the soda float lingered on your tongue. “How did you know about them?” Erica held her temples.

“Know about who? Those people that came in? I don't know them. You put them there. You were doing....ugh. Urgh.” She squeezed her eyes. “We were having a nice time,” she whined.

You dragged and braced yourself with both hands on the bar, breathing deep and trying to get a hold of the jackhammer in your chest. “I didn't need to see them.” You wiped your eyes. “Erica. Erica, what the hell was that? And don't tell me,” You caught your breath. “Please don't just say that was a trick.”

Erica wiped her eyes and glared. “That was me trying to help, okay?”

“Help?” Disbelief soured your voice. “Helping is putting me in a...I don't know, full bodied hallucination?” You fought off every feeling in your body screaming it was all real.

Erica slid off the stool and wavered, fighting off a bad dizzy spell. “I just wanted to...I don't know. You said you wanted some perspective. Was that too much? Well I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again,” she spat and stomped to the back room. “Swear, nobody knows what the hell they want.”

The door swung closed.

Dammit. You took several deep breaths to get over seeing your mom and siblings living and breathing for the first time in not nearly a long enough time.

You slammed an open palm against the bar. An empty echo bounced once or twice around the room. The worst of the rocky sickness passed after taking a few determined gulps of air.

A guilty knot twisted your stomach. You walked to the back room, calling for Erica and flicking a light around the supply room, but she wasn't there. You approached the staircase glossed over during your first inspection. From the bottom of the stairwell you called up. There was no answer, but you heard movement from above.

The steps wined and creaked as you ascended the steps as fast as you dared in the dark. At the top was a small room with two adjoining doors that you could only see because of small gaps in the window's boardings. The air upstairs was little different -grimy, still, and hotter than the floor below. Erica sat on a very old spring bed in the corner, head buried between her legs.

She peeked a bleary eye at you. “I didn't mean to do that, okay?” She wiped her eye on a sleeve. “You were putting the place together, I was just...following your lead. I'm sorry. I only tried to...” She plopped her head down. “Tried to do something you might like.”

You approached and eased bodily on the lumpy mattress next to her. “Hey. Hey, enough of that, please? I freaked out yes. Maybe more than necessary. Maybe. I'm just not used to seeing ghosts. At least not ghosts that real.” You placed a hand on her back. “It was too much at once

“I really scared you there,” she sounded miserable. “I'm so sorry, I didn't want to freak you. Hrm. Seems to be something I'm real good at...”

You put your hand on her arm. With a gentle squeeze, she let you bring it away and hold her hand. Still warm. You fingers mixed with hers. “You scared the holy hell out of me, but it wasn't all bad. C'mon. Erica, that was -that was amazing. Everything down there was...perfect. The table, the ice cream, even Mr. Sanderson. Perfect. Maybe more than perfect. Like the best dream I've had in a long time. I don't regret that.”

Her breathing steadied. Erica stared at you from the depths of her cowl. “Thanks for sharing it with me,” she whispered.

You patted her hand. Erica's lips drew tight and her eyes avoided looking at her wrist. Your fingers slid across from the top of her palm towards her wrist. Something felt off. You looked at Erica. She made no comment. You drew the thick layered sleeves up her arm inch by inch. Her skin was marked with raised, discolored bumps, like a lesion or a scaly rash. Your brow furrowed.

“Erica, Jesus, what is-”

She yanked her arm back and pulled her sleeve down. “It's not contagious or anything,” she muttered. “I would've found out by now.”

“That wasn't at the gas station.”

She waved the comment off. “Don't worry about it. It comes and goes.”

You shook your head and bent forward. Warning signs went off in your mind. “But what about -does it hurt?”

The girl only shrugged. “It itches sometimes. Mostly after I do a...a trick.”

“Have you put a cream on it, or...go to a hospital and have a doctor check it out?”

Her voice turned venomous. “Why? To let some person I don't even know stick needles in me and say that I'm not right? Have them strap me in a room and let them say 'We're not sure, ma'am, but we're doing everything we can,' and send me a bill? Fuck that. Fuck them. I'm fine. I keep telling you, don't worry about me. Why can't you understand that?” She pulled her hoodie down further and buried her head again.

“Alright, dropping that idea.” You looked at the girl hidden under a bundle of clothes. You wondered what else she could hide underneath those haphazardly piled on layers. What other breed of tricks did she harbor? What kind of surprises and secrets? Did you even want to know about them?

You swallowed. “I have to ask you something.”

Her head lifted and she sniffled. “What?”

In the dark you asked “Erica....what are you?”

Her eyes glistened in the dark. Her lips moved with careful deliberation and said “I'm not sure.”

You were quiet for a while. You checked your phone and the growing shadows. “It's getting dark,” you observed.

“It's dark up here already,” Erica replied.

“Yeah, but it's going to get darker.”

“And?”

“Should we sleep up here?”

Erica prodded the ancient mattress with bare fingers. “May as well. Unless you want to dish out money for a crappy motel.”

You thought about your bank account. “Not really.”

“Answers that question, then. Sit tight, I'll have a look around.” She hopped up. “Or you know what? Do me a favor and pull the boards off the window.” You looked at the slabs of bristly plywood held against the room's window.

“But what if someone sees?”

“I don't think anyone within fifty miles cares if two pieces of wood go missing from a vacant second story room.”

You shook your head and examined the window. Rough grains of wood brushed against your fingers. Great care was taken to find purchase on the board without getting undue splinters. Plywood like that was cruel and uncaring towards human skin.

You grabbed the corners and tugged.

“So what are you looking for anyhow?” you grunted and pulled.

“This closet right here. I wanna see if there's anything stashed away.” She knocked on the door.

“What's in that other door?” you asked.

“A bathroom with a real nasty looking toilet,” she answered.

“Doesn't work, I guess.”

“The rats have been using it just fine,” she said. You ignored that comment and focused on the window.

The wood pried loose with a forceful snap. You went to work on the other side. Night time city light sprinkled into the room.

Meanwhile Erica opened the closet door and dove inside. You heard the sound of her clumsy rummaging. “Oh, lookit what I found.” She pulled out a pile of sheets and threw a handful of pillows on the mattress.

You yanked the rest of the board loose and found two latches on the window. The latches came undone with ease. Opening the windows took a bit more elbow grease, but they gave way and let evening air come into the room for the first time in God knew how long. A half-decent breeze come through the opening and over your arm.

“Ah. There.” You wiped your hands off on your jeans. “That's a little better.” Erica spread the blankets over the mattress. Upon inspection, the sheets smelled fresh and appeared free from mold spots or holes nibbled by silverfish. “These are new,” you realized and rubbed the cool linen between your finger.

Erica closed her eyes and shook her head, tired. “Just roll with it, please. Let's make our lives easier and say whoever bought these really got their money's worth.”

Tricks and tricks and tricks, you thought.

Erica laid on the mattress and stared straight at the ceiling. She scratched her arm again and appeared distracted. Looking at her on the bed, so swaddled in jackets and sweaters, made your body itchy and skin oily with sweat, both real and imagined.

“Don't you get uncomfortable wearing all those coats?” you felt forced to ask.

Erica's neck swiveled and she frowned. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. It does matter. Let you skin breathe for five minutes. Your arm won't get better if it's not getting fresh air.”

Erica's mouth curled in begrudging acceptance. She sat up and looked between the door and window, as if worried someone may barge up and see. It was the first time she seemed nervous. She stared you down, eyes narrowed.

“Is this a trick to get me out of my clothes?”

“Not all of your clothes, just most,” you assured her.

She laughed, but it was weighed down with hesitation. Her shoulders bunched together and slid off the heavy outer coat she wore. She wore a sports windbreaker beneath the coat. Erica took that one off one sleeve at a time. Beneath that was a pair of sweaters.

Erica shucked off several laundry baskets of jackets and sweaters before she was down to her innermost hoodie. Her hands hovered over her stomach before she pressed off the bed in your direction.

Her hazel eyes caught the white and orange glimmer of the city lights but were otherwise expressionless. Your heart caught when Erica's fingers grasped the lower rim of her hoodie and drew it over herself. She wore a body-hugging red tank top underneath. The hoodie caught over her head for a moment. Erica tugged it off and tossed it into the corner.

She tousled her hair and great, tight, reddish-brown curls fell around her face and settled just past her shoulders. Her hands brushed aside a few errant loops and framed her face with wild, springy hair. Her eyes bore deep into you as you admired the strong line of her jaw and handsome curve of her shoulders. Her tall body was slim, but not anorexic, more suited to an athlete. It was easy to see that Erica took good care of herself, despite her questionable behavior.

“There we go,” she said. She scooped the bundle of clothes and chucked them off the mattress and into a dingy corner. Nothing covered the pebbly rash looping around her forearm. You approached the bed, keeping an eye on Erica.

Yes, you couldn't keep your eyes off her well-defined collar bones, or the pinch in her waist, or the perky curve of her modest breasts. A little part of you tried to say you were looking for signs of any other lesions. You couldn't see any, and that did relieve you for what it's worth. But a more plain part of yourself greatly enjoyed the unobstructed view of Erica's body.

The weathered mattress grumbled when you sat to stare out of the window. The city skyline offered a decent view. You saw the green tower that dominated the medical district. Other impressive buildings sprouted against the darkening sky and blinked to life under the heavy clouds rolling overhead. Red antennae lights winked in the darkness and traffic zipped and crawled around distant and low-lying highways.

The mattress shifted as Erica crawled over and rested her head against your shoulder. The warm curls of her hair brushed your cheek.

“All those buildings,” she said. “All those lights.”

“It looks nice from here.”

“I wonder,” Erica began, “How many nights did that old Mister Sanderson spend sitting here and staring out the window before,” her hair wiggled as she shook her head, “some men came and closed it off?” She swung her legs over the mattress's edge and splayed her boots across the floor. Her hand slid past your other shoulder and her head nestled into your neck. “Not even the cockroaches could get a look outside after that. A shame, isn't it?”

“Most people don't consider cockroaches,” you replied

“Most people don't consider a lot of things. They'll shut down ice cream shops and cover up windows without a second thought...”

You put your hand around her waist. She moved a little closer.

“You know what the real shame is? The part that bothers me?” she asked.

“What's that?”

“No one tried to put anything else in this building. Not a single person walked past this place and thought to use it for something new and exciting. It's like everyone wanted this spot to be an abandoned, run-down wreck. They all gave express permission for...brokenness and stagnation. It's rot.”

Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with people?”

“I can't really speak for other people. There's too many, and I don't know them that well.” You shrugged. “Maybe they couldn't think of something good to replace the parlor?”

Her head shook on your neck. “Don't tell me that. The jerks could've at least tried to put something new, something alive, here. I don't see excuses. Only a wasteful sickness.”

Erica took a slow breath. “I need to think,” she whispered.

She slipped away from your arm, but her hand eased you down to the mattress. You lay on your back. Erica kept close to you. The mattress wasn't big. She was a heater without clothing to buffer her body warmth. But the room was already cooling as the night's chill settled in. You looked into her half-lidded eyes.

“You haven't slept at all, have you?” you asked.

She shook her head. “Not in a long time.”

“Will you sleep tonight?”

“Probably not.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

“I see things when I sleep.”

“Those are called dreams. Or do you have a nightmare problem?”

“I have a lot of problems.” She circled her hand across your chest. “There's a...something, I see when I sleep,” she confided. “Something alive, and writhing.”

Your head shifted on the pillow. “What kind of something? A monster?”

“An animal,” she specified. “Or at least I think she's an animal. Parts of animals. Lots of parts. Like a beast stitched together from everything in a zoo. She feels...it's hard to say. Timeless. Like an old myth that men in robes would chisel down on stone tablets while high on all kinds of plants.”

The image unsettled you. “Sounds like a movie monster.”

“She terrifies me.”

“It's only a dream,” you assured, but your voice felt hollow. There was no telling with Erica.

“That's the scary part.” Her fingers gripped your chest tighter. Erica's voice trickled. “She wants out.”

"Surprise Me"

Your dreams that night were plain enough, free of ghosts and monsters from the old world. You were grateful when you woke up, and felt even more grateful because Erica was still beside you. The girl was awake, but her eyes looked clouded

“Good morning,” you said.

Her hand drifted off your chest and she put a single finger against your lip and chin.

“Shhh...”

You frowned.

“Nah, just screwing with you. Hey,” she thumped your sternum.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Not now,” she stretched on the bed. “I'm starving. How about you?”

Your stomach twisted with angry hunger. “Yeah. Definitely. I could probably eat the drywall if I added some salt.”

“You're on your own there, guy.”

“Damn. Guess I'll settle for real food instead.”

Erica snickered and jumped off the bed. “I'll get dressed.” She walked to her pile of clothes in the corner. You were disappointed to see all of her hair tucked back into her hoodie. You liked looking at her.

She reapplied her neutralizing jackets, sweaters, and coats layer by layer. Erica adjusted her wears and hopped back to the mattress side. “That was a good idea, by the way. My arm does feel better.” She flexed her hand.

“Told you.”

She kicked the bed post. “Up and up now, let's go. No time to waste.”

You raised an eyebrow and laughed. “What? Do you have any great plans for today?”

“Hell no, but I'll find some trouble to get into.”

“Oh God, don't do that.”

“No promises. We did your soul searching thing yesterday, now's my turn.”

“Oh God.”

She grabbed your arm and pulled you up with sudden strength that wouldn't be expected from her lithe body.

“Less gripe, more walk. Food, we have to get food. Come, come, come.”

She hustled you downstairs. “Can I at least fix my hair in the mirror?” you ventured. “It looks like crap.”

“No, it looks hot, don't worry.”

“I didn't get to brush my teeth-” you embellished.

“Food!” she urged.

“Okay!”

Half an hour later you and Erica sat on a bench in a small park, picking and fighting over a bag of breakfast stuffs. The food was acquired with actual money, but Erica didn't resist the opportunity to swap other patrons' meals as for ten minutes. Somewhere a man was angry because his blueberry scone was replaced with a yogurt shake.

“Best way to start your day,” she quipped when you finally pulled her way from the deed.

You chewed on the food in contemplative silence. You needed a shower. One night in a motel wasn't a financial impossibility, especially if it meant a few first world luxuries like running water. Erica might appreciate staying up all night in a place with no major health and safety violations. Thinking about it, Erica might be happy staying up all night anywhere.

“Would you sleep in a grain silo?” you asked.

“Sounds like a blast.” She bit into a ham and egg bagel.

Something to consider.

“So,” she said with a full mouth, “I'm thinking about breaking a lot of rules today. Sneaking into movie theaters, putting plastics in the metal recycle bin, hiding dead bodies in the river. That sort of stuff.” She took another bite. “Then I thought 'no, that's too small.'”

You sipped orange juice.

“I want to break a rule of good taste instead. I want to do karaoke.”

It took a lot of effort to swallow the juice instead of spitting it out. “You sure you don't want to commit murder instead? If you really want I'll let you stick your hand in everyone's back pocket in the city and you won't hear a peep out of me.”

She wiped her mouth. “Oh, I'll do that anyway. I'll switch out peoples underwear while they're still wearing them. In fact, see that big guy over there, the one standing next to the chick in the yellow dress?”

You turned around and saw a very big guy standing next to a very small woman in a yellow dress.

“Watch this.”

“Watch wha- hey where are you going?”

Erica hopped over the bench and skipped with devilish joy to the pair. Like a minx, she patted the rears of both unsuspecting victims and hopped away without them noticing.

The big guy squawked and fell to his knees, shouting in clear pain about his balls. Yellow Dress leapt in the air, shrieking as a parachute-like pair of boxers drifted away from her skirt. Erica cackled the entire way back and tumbled over the bench's backside and landed head-first in your lap.

“Christ, it's a bear trap!” Big Guy cried several yards away.

You looked at Erica with admiration and horror. “You can do that to everyone in this park if you wanted too, huh?”

She nodded and itched a little bit at her arm. “Could if I wanted too. But that'd get dull kinda fast. Gotta think big.” She patted your cheek and hoisted herself off the bench.

You followed her close. Erica looped around streets and shopping districts with no obvious aim. Things happened wherever she walked. Car alarms went off at the barest touch. Street lights popped even though the bulbs were off and sprinkled glass on concrete and startled walkers. Birds swooped en masse, chasing and squawking after victims without provocation.

Erica would poke you and say “Look over there,” and sure enough something worth looking at occurred.

“One,” She said and pointed a finger across the street.

“No one's going to die, are they?”

“Two.”

You looked across the road. She pointed to a pet shop.

“Three.”

Dozens and dozens of animals burst through the doors. Bunnies, dogs, cats, snakes, and lizards crawled and padded and piddled into the streets. Equal amounts of panic and amusement set in. People whipped out their phones to take pictures. Cars skidded to a halt to avoid running over small furry things. Erica grabbed your wrist and pulled.

“Let's go,” she said. “I'm allergic to pets.”

“Erica, what are you doing?”

“Hmm?” She still held your arm and kept a brisk pace.

“All this weird stuff.”

“What about it?”

“Is there a point to it?”

“Does there need to be a point?” She sounded irritated. “Can't I do stuff just to do it?”

“If you want to be a dick, maybe.”

She let go of your hand. “Call me a dick. Fine, fine, fine, if you're going to get your panties in a twist,” she griped. “I'm testing people. I want to see what they do when things don't go right. I want to see the looks on their faces, the sweat on their foreheads, and the tone of their voices.” She raised her hands in an apology. “I'm big into social studies. I like watching people. There's so many of them. I want to make their day interesting, and if I can have a good time doing it, why not?”

“Someone might get hurt.”

“Then it's more interesting than normal. That's just life testing them -it's not all sunshine and good days.”

That took you back. She saw it on your face. “Look, I'm not going to hurt anybody. I mean, some people have bird crap in their hair now. Maybe a few knicks around the ear from that glass breaking thing thing, but...” She shook her head. “Just calm down, okay?”

Erica continued walking. “I'm only,” she gestured to the air, “adding a little unpredictability to the mix. It's what makes life worth living.”

You stood motionless and watched her disappear into a crowd. It dispersed in a fit when Erica decided to inject a little more interest in their lives.

-

The day was spent like that. Erica sparked little scenes wherever she walked, to your broad fascination. You hopped on buses and got off in places they weren't designated to go, much to the confusion of other passengers, much less the drivers. It's worth nothing that she did go out of her way to put metal in the recycle bin and snuck into a movie theater -even though the two of you only stayed for the previews. If she found a dead body, you'd have no trouble believing she'd try to stuff it somewhere.

Erica spotted a bar and announced it to be a proper karaoke place, to your exhausted relief.

“How can you tell?” you asked after hearing her decision.

She pointed to the sign that read “Thursday Night Karaoke Special -Local Beer HALF OFF!!!!!”

The inside was nice enough. Both roomy enough for friends to gather as they pleased, and close-knit enough to make new, slightly sloshed friends if someone wanted to. A man at one end of the bar set up a sound system on a small stage.

Erica beamed. “Excellent,” she rubbed her hands together. “I'll go sign up.” Already the bar was filling with energetic chatter and bodies whose dress ranged from casual to smart. You wasted no time in securing a table with two chairs. The bar had the vibe of a place that filled its seats fast.

You studied the growing crowd with discrete eyes. If Erica enjoyed people watching then this would be the perfect place for her. The close-quarters made you question if she would try to spice things up for the other bar goers. Was she done with her mischief for the day? You worried that her acts on the streets may have only been warm-ups for her real plans.

If she bothered to plan, that was.

“Should've seen the waiting list. Folks here either really dig karaoke or half-priced beer. Maybe both. It'll be an hour or so 'til the call comes up,”

“That's a shame,” you intoned to make it not sound shameful at all. “Guess that gives you an hour to...I dunno. I don't think you have it in you to sit still for an hour in a place like this.”

She spun a nearby drink coaster under her finger. “You don't know that. We've been walking all day. My legs are killing me. No. I just want to relax out for a while, listen to people with bad voices screw up bad songs, nothing extreme.”

“Sounds great to me,” you said, rubbing a bit of soreness from your knee. You looked towards the bar. It was much cleaner and operational than the one at the shop you spent the night at. Of course, this establishment sold a different kind of treat. One that you didn't mind ordering a glass of.

You pointed a thumb to the bar. “Do you want anything?” Erica shook her head.

“Um...nah, I'm fine. Or, maybe a some cranberry juice?” You raised an eyebrow and asked if that was all. “Yeah, that's good.” Several moments later you came back with a glass of juice and a half-off bottle of local brew. She sipped from her glass with a straw.

“I'm surprised you didn't want anything that had more kick.”

Erica shrugged. “Alcohol's not really my thing.” She took another sip. “It turns me into a raging bitch,” she scowled. “Joking. Joking. To be honest, it's just...eh. Seems kind of a cheat to me.”

“Hold it.” You raised a hand. “You'll have to explain that to me because, well, weren't we trekking up and down town all day to people watch and see how they react something crazy happen? Things that you make happen? Put a shot or two of Mr. Cuervo in a man and you'll see a bit of crazy.”

“True,” Her finger ran around the glass rim. “But that's the difference: What I make happen? That comes from outside a person's sphere of control. They never see it coming and act on the spot. I see the looks in their eyes as their brain tramples through...instinct and panic or rationality, or lack thereof, and...it's a burst of emotion, and, and actions and chain-reactions. It's like fire works, or fluid dynamics. Some crap like that. People act more genuine in those moments.”

“So why don't you like drinking?”

“Oh, I don't care if people drink, but it cheapens the effect for me. For the most part, if someone knocks back a Long Island, they know what's gonna happen. The world gets a little turvey-topsy for a while and their insides feel all fuzzy and that stage over there,” Her eyebrows indicated the karaoke stand, “starts to look mighty inviting.”

She grimaced as a middle-aged woman butchered a note on 'Limelight.' “Uh, is this making sense?”

“Is it supposed to?”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “I want to see people at their most authentic when life throws a monkey wrench at them, even if only for a second. It means more to me when they're lucid. And stop looking at your beer like that. Don't be a pussy and drink the damn thing before I do.” She knocked on the table.

You took a swig from the bottle and looked at it funny. “Why is my bottle full of maple syrup?” Erica covered her mouth to laugh. “Oh. Very funny.”

“Like that,” Erica smiled. “Exactly like that. God, you're great to look at.”

“You're not a bad sight either.”

“Shut up,” she said, but was quick to turn her head to say it. Her shoulders shook as she fought an intense giggle. “Oh my God.”

“No, no, it's true,” you said and took another sip of maple syrup. “You have those big bright eyes that are so damn captivating, like a chihuahua.”

“I'm going to turn you beer into piss if you don't zip up.”

You took a long drink and stared her dead in the eyes, daring her. She covered her face with a dangling sleeve that failed to cover a small piece of her smile.

“This is what I meant. This is genuine. I could not not have predicted you'd say something dumb like that.” She shook her hood. “God help me, I asked for this.”

“You sure did.”

She reached across the table and flicked a finger against the bottle, turning it into a proper brew. It tasted pretty good and only a little bit like piss.

“You want to know what surprises me the most?” she asked.

“What's that?”

“You haven't accused me of witchcraft and tried tying me up or setting a torch to me.” She set her chin on her hand and studied you like a book written in an almost-english language. “All things considered, you're taking a lot of this in stride.”

“Well, I can call you a witch, if you want. There are enough people in here to get a good sized mob going,” you looked around at the crowd. “Can't be that hard to make a torch, either.”

Erica shrugged as if asked if she wanted to go dancing. “Sounds like fun, but you don't really want to do that, do you?”

“Not really. It'd be a real asshole thing to do for starts, and I'm not a dick like you.”

Erica's head tilted and her eyes narrowed like she was taking aim.

You set your bottle down on the table coaster. “Look, you can't pretend that switching out a guy's undies for a pair of lady panties was a neighborly action.”

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip. “Never said it was...”

“Erica, the things that you can do...” you focused on the table in effort to concentrate. “Yes, they're...either real unlikely or complete, wild coincidences, or entirely impossible and you're either magic or I've lost my mind. But still. They're 'tricks' as you keep telling me over and over-”

“And over, and over-”

“And over again, yeah. But to be honest, I don't think you're a witch. And whatever it is you're doing, I can't gather the energy to freak out about it, as long as we're not in danger of getting caught. I've stressed out over enough stuff in my life. I just..” you shrugged, “I'm rolling with it. And I really don't want to see you get in trouble.”

“I told you not-”

“to worry about you, I know.” You looked around the room. “Still. I worry. Witch or not, I don't want to see you burned at the stake.”

Her fingers tapped the table as if typing. “I'm not a witch, if that helps any. At least I don't think I am. But thanks, though.”

You tipped the beer bottle in response.

“By the way,” she added. “See that dude over there? Blue shirt? I just made his phone send a one word text to his ex-girlfriend.”

“Okay, now that's pretty witchy.”

“I don't think so,” she drank her cranberry juice. “It all depends on how he handles it.”

“You've been doing little things to everyone since you first walked in, haven't you?”

“Ceaselessly. Nothing big though. It'll have like, a trickle effect.”

“So they can deal with it when the alcohol wears off?”

“Sorta. I consider it a service. Mind if I talk a little bullshit personal philosophy?”

You raised your arm and smiled. “Shoot.”

“People come to bars and buy drinks, why? To have fun, get a little wild, meet new people and maybe sleep with them, right? Boil it down and they all want the same thing: a little bit of change. Something different. Sometimes it works, but a lot of time it's just temporary.”

She studied her glass and shook the ice. “But no one's going to find any lasting change inside of a bottle. It's a fleeting little taste of experience that may or may not leave you with a headache in the morning, or waking up next to someone whose name you can't remember. I'm giving them something with more staying power. Except for that sleeping thing.” Erica sipped her juice. “That has more after-effects, sometimes.”

“But what if they only want a minor, temporary state of change? What if they're only after a more relaxing state?”

She looked offended. “Then that goes back to people wanting safety nets, and not excitement. Staying power,” she repeated. “Unpredictability.” She knotted her fingers around themselves. “Outside forces converging and running wild don't care about what people want.”

“But you're deliberately acting as the outside force. How do you decide who gets it?”

“Whim, mostly.”

“And what gives you the right to impose that force?”

Erica showed you her palms and wiggled her fingers. “I can put that force into motion. I can't waste it.”

You took a gulp of beer and a moment to think. “So you consider it an obligation?”

“A responsibility.”

“What the hell were you doing before you got on that bus?”

She put her hands beneath the table. “Nothing interesting. That was fine for a while, but...then it was not.”

You were going to press the matter when the man at the stage called out your name.

“What did that guy just say?”

Erica looked at the ceiling with great interest. “Sounds like he wants you to go up and sing a song.”

Your mouth hung open like the threads of your jaw fell apart. “You wrote my name on that list, didn't you?”

“Someone must have...”

“Do you expect me to go up and sing in front of all these strangers?”

“I don't know. Do you know the notes to Life On Mars?”

“No.”

“Then I'm about to have a really great time.” She bobbed in her seat like someone put a wrapped present in front of her.

The karaoke guy called your name again.

“Better hurry,” she said and crunched on her ice like an innocent princess.

“This is definitely a witchy thing to do,” you snapped.

“Yep.” Her teeth snapped an ice cube with a loud crack.

You drank the rest of your beer and desperately wished for a second. Two moments later someone handed you a microphone to your piqued terror.

-

It was some hours later. Barkeep made last call. You had that second beer and helped yourself to a therapeutic third. Karaoke man was packing away his sound system and music box, but could not take your embarrassment with him.

“You can hold a note,” Erica informed you, “But you couldn't change pitch if a cruise ship full of orphans was on the line. Not like it mattered, no one else paid any attention to you.” She was the only person to let out an audible 'whoop' when you finished defacing the song.

You told her she wasn't funny. She said she was offering honest critique and wasn't trying to be humorous. Then she doubled over on the table and almost spilled her cranberry juice from laughing.

“Can we leave this place? I'm going to remember it forever, I want to get a head start on that.” You noted the night crowd trickling out the exit door like water droplets from a slowing faucet.

Erica sighed. “May as well. I've given everyone here all the surprises I can.”

“I hope they love 'em just as much as I loved mine.”

She bit her straw and grinned. “Oh, some might, some might not.” She stood up and patted your shoulder. “Alright, Starman, let's blow this popsicle stand.”

Erica made her long strides to the front door. You downed the last drop from the bottle, stood up and appreciated how much kick they put in the local stuff.

She waited outside, staring at the sky. You looked up at the sky blanketed behind the cut of buildings and night glow. “Bright tonight,” you observed. Erica nodded in silent agreement. “Do you like stars? Those things never change. Nope. They just burn and burn, burn. Moon, planets, stars, they're just up there,” you twirled your finger around, “spinning.”

“Not exactly.” Erica put one foot in front of the other and walked towards nowhere in particular. “Light travels...at...hm. A notch below seven hundred million miles per hour, right? The light from the nearest star,” she recited from her mind's notebook, “asides from the sun takes, like, five years or some stupid long time to get here -and the time traveled just gets longer and longer for stars further away. Millions of years, billions, spent speeding across nothing just to twinkle in our air as long as our sun is shining on the other side of the Earth.”

“Impressive numbers, but what's your point?”

“My point is that the sky we're looking at right now may not be the right sky at all. We look up and all we're seeing is the past. Old light from old stars that may not even be there any more. That's leaving out stars that've popped into life. Imagine that? Bright, fresh star light could be on its way right now and we wouldn't even know it.”

She bumped you with her hips. “Sounds nice, doesn't it?” Her foot steps picked up a whimsical, floaty skip. “All that sky up there could look like anything right now.” She jaunted ahead and twirled towards you. “Never changing? C'mon. It's a big, big universe.” She fanned her arms out. “Everything changes.”

You took calm steps towards the girl in love with a sky no one could see. “Everything, huh? Suppose that a ma-” And that's when an arm wrapped around your neck, cutting your voice off.

“Try kicking, try screaming or shovin', swear to Christ, you're getting it,” said an unkind voice into your ear. “Alley, both of you, c'mon.” He jerked you back. You put up resistance, but a sharp elbow to the kidneys dissuaded you.

“Run,” you croaked to Erica. The man behind you pulled out a sharp thing that caught the moonlight on its tip.

“Say something again.” He held it close. “Lady, you take a fucking step, one fucking step away from me, then my grip's gonna slip all over his neck, yeh?”

Erica's lips thinned to a near invisible line and her eyes were very dark under her hood. She drew nearer. “That's right. Why you got so many damn coats on?” His arm tightened around your neck to get what little bit of your attention he didn't have.. “Your girl must look damn nasty.” He spat. “Pockets. Empty them, then get the fuck out of here.”

Erica stepped closer. “Close enough. Wallets, purses, if I don't see those arms moving I'll-” She took another step.

Your eyes darted between Erica and the knife in the man's hand. She stepped close again. “Fucking stay, are you deaf? Think this a damn joke?”

He swung. A bright, pointed piece of cruelty arced in the alley with a low whistle. Erica's own arm bolted through the air like a viper. Her fingers clamped his wrist. The man had just enough time to realize a bone may have broken when her shoulder pivoted back and flung you both to the ground.

His arm loosened around you, letting you breath again after an imagined eternity. You rolled away over gravel and dirt and hustled to your feet. You grabbed Erica's arm as the man grunted and swore on the ground. “Go. We have to go, now,” you coughed. You urged her away, but her legs may as well been braced with steel girders.

He stood up. His features were ill-defined in that grimy pocket of the world, but he was in pain, and he was pissed. He didn't waste time with threats or insults, instead he raised his knife and dove for your friend.

You tried to push her out of the way. Pull her way. You tried to do something in that moment where everything had gone wrong and someone was bound to get hurt. Even now you're not sure what happened, but there was a grunt of surprise, and a rush of air and muscles.

When half a sense returned, you saw Erica holding the man by the throat against the brick wall. Beads of spittle and half-formed curses flew from his twisting lips.

“Erica?”

She said nothing. The man kicked at her, but he'd have better luck kicking a tank. The knife flopped in his hand for a panicked moment before he remembered its purpose. The blade rushed across Erica's forearm like a coping saw. Your stomach dropped.

In all fairness, it was a fine knife. The man put enough desperation and anger into that motion to cut through her sleeves in two swipes. The blade met the bare flesh of her arm on the third strike. There was no blood, or cries of injury. Only a burst of sparks as when steel strikes flint.

The man's eyes were lit in that brief flash, and he looked afraid.

“Yer fuckin' kiddin',” he gurgled.

You couldn't see Erica's face. You didn't want to see her face considering what happened. She stepped back from the wall and lowered the man as if to drop a duffel bag.

Erica tossed him into the air like a firecracker. It was so fast that you didn't even hear him scream. She looked to the sky and let her arm fall limp. You rushed to her side.

“The hell was that? Erica what the freaking hell was that?” You looked up. There wasn't any blip of a man flying through the air. You looked around, half-expecting him to fall back to Earth any moment. “Shit, shit.” Now you were going to freak out. “Shit.”

Erica lowered her head. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed and rubbed your sore throat. “I'm fine, don't worry about me. We have to get out of here. Jesus Christ, Erica, what did you do?”

“I sent him away.”

“Sent him where? Into fucking orbit? Is he going to land on Mars? He took your damn sleeve, even!” You motioned to her arm. The sleeve's elbow was ripped and threaded where his knife cut through the cloth. He must've been clutching to it when she chucked him to parts unknown. Her rash was exposed and looked severe, almost rippling.

“Don't worry about it, it's only...” She touched her forehead. “Only....oh boy.”

“Erica? What's wrong?”

“Think I over did it there,” She woozed. You supported her torso and steadied her by the shoulder.

“Out of here. Gotta get out of here. We have to get somewhere safe, fast,” you told her and yourself. Back to the shop? You've been walking all day. It would take hours to return to that run-down upstairs haven. Your brain rushed.

“I don't....” she coughed. “My...head...is...” She twisted away from you and slammed against the brick wall. Her fingers thrashed at her hood. Erica groaned and you heard a gnashing of teeth. Her boots dug into the concrete, cracking and digging deep tracks into the ground.

Two points rose in between her splayed fingers. The bricks bounced with her echoing cries. A winding howl whipped from her mouth. The cloth of her hood split. Pale blue bone pierced from the top of her head. The left one emerged in a lazy curve, undulating like heated glass. The right sprouted in spurts and sharp twists, reminding you of watching a fast-forward clip of a growing tree.

The horns screeched like nails and broken glass dragging over polished metal. Your ears jumped.

Erica's fingers dug into the splits of her hood and tore the thing apart. Her chestnut hair sprung out and around the mismatching horns twisting from her skull. The weight of the things tipped her to the ground on her hands. The bizarre headdress creaked like sick, wet wood as it twisted outwards and upwards.

The growing slowed. Her head bobbed. She stopped screaming. Sweat dripped from her forehead.

It was to your credit that you didn't gawk like an idiot for ten minutes, mouth opened so wide your chin hit the ground. “Erica.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder. Her breath quivered and her body shook. She was freezing. “Dammit. Can you stand up? I'll help. Come on, come on, please.” You placed a hand on her back and set her arm behind your neck and lifted. The effort made her grunt.

She wobbled and would've fell forward without your support. The horns threw off her center of gravity, you felt it. Twisting, intersecting shadows fell across the concrete.

“I sent him -I sent him...”

“It's alright. He's gone now. I saw what you did,” you looked up and down the alley to make sure no one else witnessed what she did. For all the world you wish you didn't.

“He was trying to-”

“I know. Just catch your breath okay, I'll get us to a...” you thought of your options.

“No hospitals,” she croaked.

You patted her back. “Sure, sure, no hospitals.” Even if you did lead her to one, what would you say? 'Hello, my friend here threw a man to Pluto and some horns popped out of her head like weeds. I heard they made a pill for that.'

You would've laughed if you weren't at a total loss.

“We were having a good time, too,” she muttered in a slurred, saddened way.

“One step at a time, c'mon.”

You led her out of the alley. Trying to get back to the shop was the only sensible option, so you headed in what you hoped was the correct direction.

With each yard your heart thumped harder. It was dark, it was cold, and Erica felt colder. A few stray couples still stalked the sidewalks.

“Holy crap, what's on her head?” went a lady.

“Uh. Halloween costume. She had a little too much fun at a party.” You made a drinky-drinky motion.

“But it's April.”

“Crazy, crazy Halloween party, hoo!” you shouted and hastened past as fast as you could. You wanted to throw up all over the sidewalk.

You considered calling for a taxi, but there was no way in hell her horns would fit in the backseat. You paused at a crosswalk to think of a feasible plan of action. Erica slumped against you. A pair of headlights were coming down the road. Her chest rose and fell against your arm. The sloping horns hummed like a dying radio signal.

The stoplight flashed from green to red, yellow, and blue to purple. The flash of car lamps cruising together from separate angles never had a dredge of hope. Hearing a car crash on tv couldn't compare to hearing it happen less than ten feet away from you.

You ducked, trying to pull Erica with you, but she stood firm. Metal careened into high speed metal. Glass exploded on the street corner and split the rays of the streetlights into glistening fractals that showered the concrete like flesh-shredding confetti. Tonnage of steel made fiery streaks as it scraped over the asphalt. Mechanical parts twisted and crunched into a near-parody of sculpture.

Erica reached out and touched the tip of a bolt that flew overhead. Pieces of glass and metal glowed around her form.

“Pretty,” she said. You don't know how you heard that over the shouts, popping airbags, and broken horns that would not stop blaring, but you did. The radio siren from her horns rose and fell.

You grabbed her relaxed shoulders, and looked at something you didn't want to see. “Now. We have to get out of here now.”

She resisted your urgings like a child watching a parade. “Erica,” you repeated with desperate severity. Her expression was sublime. Her eyes shut and she collapsed.

“Dammit,” you said, catching her weight before she bumped her head. She recovered enough to move her legs as you huffed across the road strewn with car parts and pieces you didn't want to think about.

“What was that?” she asked.

“You tell me.”

“I didn't...mean too...”

You made it two blocks before the sound of ambulances wailed in the air.

“I'm itchy,” Erica told you.

“It's going to be okay.” you said while putting one foot in front of the other. Her free hand scratched at her neck and stomach.

“It won't go away.” Windows on either side of the street winked with lights. Up and down the blocks, street lamps, stop lights, and porches blinked like Morse code. Glass popped and dusted the sidewalk, making you curse in surprise.

Cars sped past you and screeched to a halt as their engines blew, tires popped, or spun after hitting some invisible pole in the road. No matter if you took a left or right at road forks, rampant disruption followed. Erica shivered so much that you feared she'd slip from your fingers.

Wild gusts blew up and down the roads.

You couldn't take her anywhere in this state. Even if you made it back to the parlor, there'd be a trail of car crashes and shattered glass that would lead anyone straight to you and her. “Erica,” you pleaded, “whatever you're doing, you have to control it.”

“'M trying,” she wept. “Honest, I am.”

Her horns folded the blinking lights around them as if carved from an unnatural ivory. You wanted to break into a hardware store and clear through them with a chainsaw.

Somewhere a generator blew.

“A door. Take me to a door,” Erica grunted.

“What? A door?”

Her head shot up and her eyes were yellowed, like a jaundice sufferer. “Any door, it's not fucking complicated,” she strained.

You looked amongst the buildings and light bulbs undergoing seizures. You picked an innocuous wooden door that led to some shop that you didn't care about and couldn't get to fast enough.

Once within reach, Erica lurched from your arms and slammed against the wooden frame. The fingers from her ripped sleeve spread across the frame and searched for the handle. You fought a lump in your throat when you saw the extent of her rash. Mottled, yellowed skin spread across her formerly smooth fingers. The nails were blackened and slick. Her infected hand clawed the doorknob.

She looked fevered. The twisting horns clacked and scrapped against the wood, leaving scratch marks in the paint. The door was locked. She banged her open palm against the door without rhyme or delicacy. Bang. Bang. Bang. The lights around the street flashed in kind.

She grabbed your arm, wrapped her free hand around the knob, and pushed.

You fell past the threshold and hit the dirty wooden floor of Sanderson's upstairs room. The nocturnal wails were cut like a throat.

There was nothing behind you but an empty closet. Erica lay next to you, racked with heavy breaths and hands trying to find something to grab onto. Her hair looked a tangle. She rolled onto her back, grunting as her horns clacked on the floor and forced her neck into a pained angle.

Erica held an arm out, which you took and pulled her up. She kept her eyes shut tight and swept to the wall and sidled down the way like a blind woman. Her hands reached for the bathroom door.

She clenched her teeth and slammed the door three times. Bang. Bang. Bang.

A light appeared under the door's lip. She exhaled as if recovering from a punch in the stomach and pushed the door open. Inside you saw a clean, well-lit, and functional bathroom. Erica fumbled inside and shut the door. You saw a flash of her eyes. They were yellow, reddened from tears, and curdled with fear and anger. Coupled with her sharp, blue horns, the sight made you step back.

Words couldn't come. Only a thin slip of light on the floor offered you company. You pressed an ear against the door and heard the sound of running water. The motion and thumps of legs led you to believe that Erica got the faucet running again and stepped into the shower.

“What the hell,” you said under your breath. You ran to the window to see if Erica's disrupting effect seeped into the surrounding neighborhood. Nowhere else did the lights flash or cars collide. Sirens weren't heard in this part of town. Things seemed safe, for the moment.

You glanced at the shut bathroom door and wondered if that were true. You fell back on the mattress, covered your eyes and prayed and waited for your heart to calm down.

“What the hell,” you repeated. “What the hell,” a third time, for good measure. You hoped Erica wouldn't take long in the restroom, or that it wouldn't disappear like an enchanted carriage after she left, because you felt a powerful urge to cough up every organ in your body.

But time passed and the urge only grew stronger. One hour. Two hours, maybe three? You heard nothing behind that door but the sound of spraying water. You crept to the door and listened for other movement.

Nothing.

You knocked. “Erica?” Silence. “Talk to me.” More silence. “I know what happened out there was -okay, I have no idea what the fuck any of that was, but you need to talk to me.”

The water didn't even ripple. Did she pass out? Maybe slipped and hit her head on the tub rim? Or something worse? Would she throw you through a wall if you barged in on her naked? The doorknob grew warm in your hand.

You turned the knob. The door was unlocked. You opened it and coughed at the thick steam rushing out.

The shower curtains were drawn back and water drizzled all over the tub ring and floor. Erica sat on her knees under the faucet's cascade. She didn't move in notice of your presence. Every bit of clothing she had entering the room clung to her body, dark and heavy with water.

“Christ,” you said. “Erica, look at me.” Hair covered her face. You snapped your fingers to no reaction. You accepted things weren't going to get better soon. The water scalded your hand when you reached for her. She was bound to get blisters and hypothermia if she sat under the water like this.

You quickly shut off the knobs and lifted her head. Her hair felt dry beneath your hands. She blinked in dim recognition as you checked her discolored sclera.

“Come on,” you said gently and hooked a hand under her arm. She moved by near unconscious rote when you lifted her from the tub. The hot water from her clothing seeped between your fingers and ran down to your elbows. “That's enough shower for now,” you tried to sound calm, and succeeded a little.

You led her out of the bathroom which didn't disappear or turn back into a septic mess upon leaving. Water dripped and pooled where she stepped. You sat her down on the mattress. Erica's unfocused gaze unnerved you. She stared out the window, past the glass, past the street, the city, the sky, the stars and into a deep oblivion.

“Those clothes need to come off. Or you'll get sick.” You didn't think wet jackets would harm her much alone, but piled on with every other mishap tonight, you'd prefer not to run the risk. “Help me out here, okay?”

Erica didn't resist as you slid her many sopping layers from her arms and down her shoulders. You piled them on the floor where a little water damage wasn't going to ruin things further. The necks of her sweaters couldn't stretch over her horns. Those had to be ripped off and you felt dirty and shameful for it. Her red tank top was just dry enough, thank God.

Your hands ran across two bulges along her back that weren't present the night before. Settled between her shoulder blades were two elongated swellings that quivered at the touch. Erica said nothing, so you left well enough alone, deciding to focus on the task at hand, which you could at least accomplish.

You knelt down and undid the laces on her boots, which were looped and tangled into tens of unintelligible knots so frustrating they bordered on the Escher-like.

After several minutes of yanking, you slipped the boots from her feet and unrolled a half dozen layer of wool socks and thermals until her slim toes lay unmoving against the floor. Her feet felt cold, but had remained dry.

You paused at her leggings and looked at her. “I really don't want to take your pants off unless you say something,” you muttered in a tired voice.

Her head tilted towards you. She blinked once.

“Once for yes, twice for no?”

She blinked once.

“Fine.” You undid her belts and buttons and zippers and more buttons. Jeans, shorts, sweat pants, jammies, more jeans, and tights slid down her legs. You gathered up the pile, walked to the far corner of the room, and dumped them on the ground.

You paused by the window and ran a hand across your mouth before turning towards Erica.

She wasn't even wet. Her skin was clean and dry. Her torso bobbed in a calm rhythm. Long, coppery legs stretched off the mattress and sloped to the ground. Your eyes drifted up and caught the terminus of her waist and thighs. The generous mass of her red-tinted hair hung across her shoulders, drifting in wisps as bits of wind blew in from the open window.

Then there were her horns. Both spiraling and spiky. Deer-like, maybe, but from two far ends of the family tree. Blue as to be almost white, like blueberries soaked in milk. Ridges and sharp points captured the air like leafless tree branches in winter. The alien protrusions would be fine sculpture work if located anywhere else besides her skull. Her yellowed, scaled arm laid unmoving on the sheets, but her curving black nails could tear streaks through them should they flex.

“You gotta help me here, girl. What's going on with you?”

Some light came back to her eyes. Her head moved in slow consideration of her antlers.

“Surprise me,” she uttered with a glacier's deliberation.

“What?”

“Surprise me,” she repeated. “Cuss, kiss me, eat your shoe, anything,” she tolled. “Just surprise me.”

“Surprise you.”

She nodded once. The sharp points of her horns tilted. You were half afraid she'd fall forward again.

You bit your lip and considered your shoes. She wanted a surprise after a night full of surprises. What could you offer? You put your hands in both pockets and walked in slow, ponderous steps to the bed and sat next to her.

The scene of your mind raced. She was talking. You had to keep her engaged or else she might slip into a waking coma again. You pulled your phone from your pocket. It was a miracle the thing still had a battery charge. Erica looked down at the blank screen, lips sealed.

“Here.” The phone flicked to life. “I lied the other night. I never tried to hide my dirty pictures that well.” Your thumb pressed through a small maze of menus and sub-folders. “They were distractions. Worked pretty good, huh?” You couldn't help smiling a little. “No, no...these, uh...it's these pictures right here that I don't want strangers looking through.”

You opened an album nestled deep inside the memory card. The first photograph spread across the screen.

“This is a picture of all of us -me, my mom, my brother, and sisters,” you said slowly. You pointed to your mother. “Her name's Allison.” You pointed at the boy. “That's Richard.” You pointed to the two girls one at a time. “Margaret and Madeline. Twins.” Erica closed some of the space between you. “And that's me, of course.”

You swiped to the next picture, one of Maggie and Maddie at a cellist recital. The quality was a little blurry on the edges, but you could plainly see their faces drawn in concentrated serenity. “Musicians. Good ones, too. They both got scholarships. I never could figure out how to read music sheets. I always thought that was pretty cool of them.”

The next picture. “Richie. Younger than me. Real smart. Scored straight A's in his math classes and took a lot of college credits before graduating. He had his engineering major all lined up.”

Another group photo, this time at a Christmas party. You looked a little younger than you did now. “My Mom.” You took a bracing breath, feeling like rolling a boulder uphill. “She was...there for us. For as much as she could be. It was hard for her, and she never got enough sleep, but she was great. Got us to school on time and took us on at least one vacation a year, even if we had to sleep in the car overnight at a trucker's stop.” You laughed. “If you -if you think this night was crazy, you should've seen those sleepovers. Christ, they were madhouses.”

You covered your mouth, and took a deep, slow breath through your nose. “But, this, uh. This Christmas pic was the last big moment we all had a really good time together. Maggie and Maddy...” Wetness blurred your vision. “There was an accident two months later, you see. Both of them,” you muttered, “but it was fast. Doctors told us they didn't feel anything, but we made up for it. Mom died a year later in her sleep. She was sick at the time, but she drove herself to sickness.”

The phone trembled in your hand. “A year after that I woke up and found a note from Richie on the kitchen table, and that was the last I heard from him. That was two years ago. He may be out there, or maybe not. The words weren't encouraging. We never could find him, and we looked everywhere.”

You snickered and wiped your thumb across your nose.

“One time, me and Richie pulled a twofer and drank half a bottle of Mom's scotch and smoked her last pack of cigarettes while she was at work. I can't remember who dared who first, but we didn't need much egging on after it started. I swear to God, Mom beat our asses darker than a bowl of blackberries then made us thank her for it. Haven't smoked since then -my fingers lock up before I can wrap 'em around a cigarette.”

“Maggie and Maddie. They acted like coked up little hellions, running, screaming and over-reacting because they were dramatists at heart. Had the most awful taste in books and tv shows you've ever seen, and you better believe we've waged major throw downs over remote control rights if Mom didn't come up and yank the leashes she held over us all.”

Your thumb moved idly along the screen's edge.

“Even for all that, they were the smart ones, and talented. They'd scribble notes over lined paper then close their eyes and make music from nothing, like magic. Richie could take a car apart top to bottom, put it back together and make it purr like an overgrown kitten. They'd win awards and get pictures put in the paper. We'd still cuss and hit each other as kids, but if there was a pack of candy we'd share it, pile up in the back room if the power went out in a thunderstorm. Then Mom would light up the candles and bring out a little pup tent and pretend we were camping.”

You put the phone in the gasp of space between you and Erica and put your hands together. She picked it up and traced a black nail over their faces. “I always considered myself the middlin' average one. I pulled my weight around, did what I was supposed to, but I knew that my brother and sisters would shine brighter than me. I was okay with that.”

Your jaw tightened and the muscles hurt.

“You want me to surprise you? Imagine my surprise when it turned out that out of all of them, with all their promise and skill and whole lives waiting, I was the one left standing and nobody else could tell me why. Look me in the eye and tell me that's not a surprise. You like surprises -I don't. I'm sick of surprises. Sick of them.”

You lowered your voice and let your heart settle. “I woke up a few days ago and looked around my room and nothing about life made any kind of damn sense, so I put a clean pair of underwear and socks in a backpack, bought a ticket, hopped on a bus and ran into you. Now things make even less sense.”

Erica's nail clacked the screen into darkness. “I was riding those buses for a while,” she rasped.

You turned towards her and ignored the little stream on your cheek.

“Trains, too. Cabs. Subway cars. I swerved and zig-zagged all over towns and highways. I can't remember what city I started in, but I remember staring out of windows and watching the sun go up and down over and over. I ate if I felt like it. Walked, if I wanted to stretch my legs. Made little, out of the way changes if the need came up. But I kept moving.”

“Nobody bothered me,” she continued. Her eyes widened and were reflective of the shadows and meek pebbles of light coming through the window. “As long as I had a ticket or enough change to pay the fare, nobody said a word. Maybe a few odd looks, and a handful of cat-calls, but I was too busy thinking.”

She raised her head, a head adorned with foreign, frightful bones and the thickest hair you've ever seen. “So imagine my surprise when you spoke to me,”

Her hand drifted over your neck and cupped your cheek. The darkness in the room felt comforting. Her jaundiced eyes were gentle. The touch of her hand was warm again.

“You're not well,” you said, as if trying to convince yourself.

“No.” Erica shook her head. “I'm just looking for the right frame of mind.”

You kissed her once. Her brown lips fitted well against your own, so smooth and warm they almost melted into each other. There was no great pressure, only a gentle meeting of tender nerve tips. Parts accustomed to forming words were used to form comfort and silence.

The world lingered in dreamy quiet after drawing away from her.

Her Villainous Body

Author's Notes:

For those wondering, this is where the illicit bit and floor-show tf'ining happen (finally.)

Erica kissed you again. Her eyes closed and mouth opened to let the taste of you in -the taste of your skin, the taste of the air you exhaled. Her well-formed hand pressed you onto your back.

She dipped and glided across you stomach and chest. The autumn-colored curls of her hair dangled over your shirt and chin, then past your face and formed a thick, private veil against that shitty upstairs room and the only thing that mattered was her face less than an inch away from you. Her damp breath warmed the air in that intimate pocket, filling it with her scent. You breathed.

There was no need to rush. The city outside had no demands it could make on either of you. The city didn't know about the corner you lay in because it was abandoned long ago, leaving you and Erica to kiss and touch each other freely.

You gathered great handfuls of her twisting hair and sifted the strands, reveling its twirls and bounce. Your fingertips dug into her scalp, traveling along her head until they ran against her horns. You paused and felt a low vibration inside the hard growths.

Erica planted her lips against your skin. “Don't worry,” she whispered in hot sweeps of breath and voice. “Don't worry about me.”

Her body swung upwards. She grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a sitting position. Her knees bent by your sides. You took an ankle in hand and kissed it. Bottom to top, your lips and tongue journeyed the length of her well-toned leg, her calf, her knee, the inside and out of her firm thighs. Erica's hips moved underneath you.

God, you wanted to taste her, all of her. You kissed the rich coffee tones of her waist and belly and wanted more. You skirted across her shirt, took deep breaths through the nose and explored the firm line of her collar bones and neck. Hands snuck under the back of her shirt and paused at the growth of alien muscle there. The things between her shoulder blades shuddered.

Erica grabbed your wrists. You felt the rough texture of her clawed left palm which sent a buzz across your shoulders. She felt the disquiet and took your left arm with her right hand.

She traced a stroke across the tops of your fingers with her hardened claw, long and drawn-out, like a cat would to a captured mouse.

“Don't let it scare you.” Erica touched the back of her scaled hand against your forearm. The skin felt bumpy, yet smooth. The base of her burnt-yellow palm touched your wrist. The inhuman fingers crept across your palm and she entwined your fingers with her own in a gentle but certain grip. Black, shining talons prickled your skin. “It's not so bad.” she said, equally to you as to herself. Erica drew your hand to her mouth and kissed your knuckles.
You drew her hand close and returned the gesture. Erica's eyes fluttered as your lips danced over the alien phalanges. As long as she enjoyed herself, you thought. The rough, ringed pattern of her skin tickled your lips.

She nudged you to your back with her human hand, but held on with her talons to keep a tether with your arm. Erica straddled your waist. She was a tall girl, and her weight was felt, but you couldn't complain when most of it was centered over the bulge in your jeans.

The healthy curve of her hips moved back and forth. You put a free hand over the red strap of her panties, pressed into the firm flesh there and directed the speed and depth of her dives. Her nostrils flared and passed puffs of air. You half expected smoke to blow out.

Her lips drew back with each breath and dive of her hips, revealing the white slivers of her teeth. Erica's body rose and fell, rocking her antlers along with her breasts, which you very much wanted to see. Watery moonlight washed around the gentle but definite curve of her cleavage.

You guided her hand to the base of her tank top and drew the shirt up in eager fits. You saw the line of her ribcage and laughed in your mind when the cup of her bra matched the color of the shirt. Erica thought in a more practical manner and realized she wouldn't get the tank top over her horns. She put both hands her shirt collar and ripped.

“I'm tired of hiding myself,” her voice echoed with an earthy depth as the fabric tore, exposing her chest. “I want you to look at me,” she husked. “All of me.”

You wanted to see all of her too.

Your hands traveled up her stomach and slipped beneath the bottom of her cups. Her bra was dislodged by the invasion of your fingers as you brushed them across her stiffening nipples, testing the soft, hidden flesh. Erica bit down on the shivering bottom of her lip.

She grabbed your wrists in a firm but not un-kind fashion. “Don't freak,” she warned.

Erica's head dipped forward. Her horns arced in the air and drew a false, luminescent cut against the damaged ceiling. Her shoulders knotted and the grip on your wrists trembled and grew tighter.

You asked if she was alright, and her response was a low, building groan not from an exclusive place of pain.

The sound of moving flesh grew inside the room and two long, dark things blossomed onto the changing scape of her form. The lines of her bra popped loose and the red cups fell on your stomach, leaving your hands as the only cover for her breasts. She pressed her chin into her chest. Her trembling fingers tightened further around your arm.

The things twitched and stretched, sending her body rocking. The left growth, off-blue like her horns, maybe darker, shook like a robe unfurling in the wind. It spread, revealing an arc of plumage that ranged from blue to almost-white. A bird's wing, majestic in curvature and tipped with feathers sharp and grand enough to have been stolen from some legendary eagle.

Erica's head rolled as the wings unspooled from her back.

Her right wing fanned out. Long, skinny, finger-like appendages extended from a joint instead of feathers. Thick, translucent webbing stretched between the twisting digits. Purple veins lined the skin and pumped blood across the expanse that wobbled against the air. Erica flexed the sharp fingers like a nightmarish hand, flapping them with the vigor of a tarp caught in a storm. An oily sheen covered the skin.

The girl's mismatching wings filled the air. Her mouth hung open in a hazy ecstasy. Her hands drifted away from yours as the wings folded around herself. Erica's eyes fluttered as the caress of feathers and hardened skin draped across her hips and shoulders.

Erica withdrew her wings to the same effect of curtains revealing a stage play.. You were frozen and looked across her wings, her yellow eyes, and scaled arm teasing her dark, quarter-sized aureola with curving claws. She ran the nails down her stomach and placed them over your unrelenting bulge.

Her eyes flashed in the dark, and it wasn't because of the street lights outside. Her lips moved. “You asked me what I was.” She pressed her palm down on your covered erection hard enough to make it hurt in the best way. “Let's find out.” She gripped the top of your jeans and tore the denim. Your erection bobbed higher in the air, constrained still by your underwear for a maddening moment. She ripped that too.

Your penis bounced up between her thighs and Erica broke a moan like a girl who desperately wanted a cock inside of her.

Her human hand cradled the bottom of your scrotum. A bird-like claw tested the air around your penis. She ran an open palm up your shaft and you shivered when the tip of her ink-black talons traced underneath the rim of your head with the delicacy of a surgeon's scalpel.

Erica bit her lip and wrapped the claw around your length, making sure you felt every bump and ridge in her hand as she moved it up and down, slow as cold honey, making her cruel and wonderful in one repeating stroke. A clouded bead formed at the tip which she dabbed at and spread across your surface. It terrified you. It excited you.

You don't know when Erica took her panties off, but they sure as hell weren't present as she positioned herself over you. A feathery patch of hair was over her smooth, thin lips. You looked at them, smooth and puffy and flushed. Her labia gave off more heat than a campfire. Would you melt when she took you inside the inferno of her body? Erica looked at you with deep hunger through her spiraling bangs and hooked her nails across the base of your shaft and guided you into her -past those longing outer folds and into her tight, warm depths. Walls made of magma and intimate flesh constricted around you and would not let go.

Erica gasped. You gasped. You jumped inside of her and her shoulder muscles corded.

Her claws spread across the bottom of your stomach and she arched her back. Her eyes shut. You looked and lost yourself in the pleasured scape of her face. Eyebrows were knitted from effort and ecstasy. Open and close went the nostrils on her well-sculpted nose. A tangle of hair dangled on her perspiring forehead. The lids of her eyes opened by a slit and she caught you staring. You wanted to kiss those glistening lips of hers more than anything else in the world right now. Erica was beautiful. From the moment you saw her on the bus, you knew she was beautiful. How could anyone so pretty hide themselves for so long? It was criminal.

Her arm traveled up your chest and stopped over your heart which beat and beat and beat. She could tear your heart out right now and it wouldn't stop thumping for an hour. For a day. All of time, perhaps. Yellow eyes glowed with an uncanny brightness. Feathered tips and translucent bat wings spread and dominated the room. An eery liquid light diffused through and around them. Antlers twisted and curled away from the forest of her hair, glinting with the red and orange city lights from the skyline seen through the window behind her. Her horns looked porcelain, even crystalline in the spotted light, and glinted with a crown's majesty.

Was it the half-realized light? Was it the thick, dizzying air of an old room and sweaty, musky bodies? Her figure unraveled at the edges and pulled together like a mirage -a dream born of illusion, magic, and mist, but she was real right now. You could feel her. She was burning you, making your blood pump hard enough to pop your ears. Erica was more real than any bus, or car crash, or knife at your throat, or star a hundred million years away whose light you couldn't see.

Erica smiled down at you and looked like a fallen angel claiming a soul all for herself.

Your hands glided across her villainous body, not caring for damnation or salvation.

She buoyed over you, breathing and touching herself, touching you. Hands, disfigured and mundane, were everywhere. The weakened bed springs creaked with each motion and the posts thumped and knocked hollow echoes against the wall. Her body heated further, like a forest fire caught a conflagrating wind inside of her stomach.

You clamped her hips. She fell over you and supported herself on two hands. You reached up and kissed her. Sweat ran down her face, arms, and the fine muscles in her neck. Her mouth peppered you. Her saliva was nearly as hot as the steaming water she bathed under. You grimaced, but that wouldn't stop things.

At any rate, it was too late.

You fingers toyed with her nipples, pinched and twisted at them to her gasping joy. She dove at your neck, bit your shoulders and trap muscles, shocked the neurons and lit your spine with whatever unearthly electricity she channeled.

You felt the lazy breeze from the window and the gust off Erica's shuddering wings. You felt each cascade of breath that passed over her succulent lips and nostrils. Felt her dusky skin, which grew warmer and warmer with each thrust and moan.

Oh, the sounds she made. Deep, hungry, joyful noises shaped with her vocal chords and tongue. You could listen to her all night.

She growled. Down from her chest it came, bubbling up like a pending eruption. Her lower jaw shook as it rumbled out, baring her teeth. White, sharp tips caught the window light. Her eyes widened, her full brows narrowed with a feral and eager anticipation.

Her horns hummed.

Erica's lips slid over her teeth. “Hang on.”

All the muscles in her body coiled and you bit your tongue as she choked your member. Her body quaked and rocketed in temperature.

Sweat glistened off her bare arms and shoulders. Her eyes closed, but a dim light burned behind her lids.

The muscles in her arms twitched like subway trains moving on tracks under her skin. Her abdomen tightened.

But the first thing you noticed was her hair. At first you thought it was a trick of the moonlight, but shock-white streaks unwound from her scalp and dripped across her curls like a broken bottle of whitewash.

Her head shook, spreading the coloration faster. Bangs fell across her face and whitened. The curls became looser, heavier, turning into wide loops and twists that swung across her shoulders like hills of snow. A lock fell over your hand, smooth and silky.

Erica grabbed your arm and held it against her chest. Her heart thumped wildly inside of her. You felt a sensation of sprouting hairs beneath your palm. Strands of gray fur slipped between you fingers and spread around her chest and swirled across her shoulders.

She gasped as if it tickled. Her exposed teeth looked sharper. The gray fur changed to a burnt red as it traveled down both of her arms. The scales on her left arm looped and tightened up to her elbow where it met the fur, looking slender, like an eagle's leg instead of a disfiguring rash. The muscles flexed and she placed her claws across your chest and left thin, red scratch marks

You expected the same from her right arm, but all expectations were out of town for the night. Wiry, sand-colored hair grew there. The muscles became steely and powerful. Her hand swelled and thickened. Erica pulled back, grabbed the wrist and held it close. Her fingers flexed. Nails sprouted from the tips, but less cruel than her other talons. Your hands were on her hips.

She bit down on the firm muscles of her forearm as the skin on her palms and fingertips turned rough and black. Her fingers plumped as fur coated them, turning them into a paw belonging to a predatory big cat. She stretched her reformed hand with a dexterity that was beyond normal animals. The claws slipped out and inwards like they were polished with oil.

Erica put both bestial limbs over your belly and marveled. Your stomach drew in a deep breath at the criss-crossed sensation of scales and hot paw pads upon you. By now her breasts had disappeared beneath the fur. Her stomach was likewise covered.

She tightened around your member like a vice. You moaned in pain and arched your back. Erica wrapped her lion arm around you and pulled you to her furred body.

“Just take me there,” she panted into your ear. “Take me there. Take me all the way, please,” she urged in a broken voice. She put a wet, sloppy kiss on the side of your face and flooded your neck with her steamy exhalations. You kissed her back.

Her thighs tightened and seared . Her left leg became rough, much like her left arm. You felt the skin wrinkle into scales beneath your hand. Her right leg donned a coat of coarse, peppered fur. Her calves twisted, and you felt her feet scrabble and twitch across the sheets. No telling what those would look like.

The bed scraped across the floor as her wings flapped once, twice, three times. You moaned as she loosened and tightened her carnal grip over you. Her hips undulated again. Erica regained enough control over herself and she was going to finish what was started.

Your ears buzzed from the static noise of her horns which ran in circles across the sound band. Lights flickered outside.

Erica ran her nose over your forehead and kissed your brow. You put a hand over her furry hips and found the sensation thrilling. Fear was somewhere inside of you, panic, confusion, but it was held at bay by the overpowering urge to fulfill one critical physical and emotional need.

Your rear bounced against the mattress less and less, but not because Erica pulled back on the effort. Your stomach lurched and there was only air beneath you. You and Erica rose in the room by centimeters, leaving the old, stained bed on the floor.

“Don't let go of me,” she mewled, “Don't let go, don't let godon'tletgodon'tdon'tdon't.”

Together you rose higher. You didn't care. You wanted to go higher with her. Break through the roof, float above the city, above the clouds and past the Earth, as long as you were with her.

Her powerful limbs explored your back. Your shoulders tingled under the rough run of her pads. Skin cried in perverse pleasure at the scratches she left. Your fingers traveled around the base of her wings. Feathers flowed beneath your fingers and your palm slid over taut wing-flesh. Erica purred.

Something brushed the back of your calf. A tuft of fur trailed up your leg, across your bare rear and the small of your back. It fell down, and something swung into the air behind Erica -a long, red tail covered in smooth, shiny scales that ended in an off-white swirling brush of fur. You looked down her back and saw muscles pull and loosen to control the swinging extension of her body.

The intensity of her voice grew and shook you. Her gasps tore themselves into growls, deep and rough, and spread far across the evolutionary line and animal kingdom, like she didn't know what she wanted to be, or maybe she wanted to be everything. The hind part of your brain couldn't decide if it was terrified or aroused, either way, you were fully engaged.

Her antlers sung. Rags and slips of discarded clothing floated into the air. Water from the shower and damp footsteps rained upwards in shaky droplets which shone brightly in the night. The white flood of her mane hung as if suspended underwater.

Tears that couldn't decide to rise or fall were on her face. You wiped them away and touched your forehead to hers and put your hands on her cheeks.

“Don't be afraid,” Erica shuddered, “Please, please, please don't be afraid of me.” She shook her head.

You only asked if she was alright.

“I am,” she smiled and her golden eyes sparkled like tea light candles. “I feel better than I ever have.” Her body rumbled like an engine.

She thrust into you harder than before and howled. You heard the pop and crack of bones. Her ribcage jutted outwards and stretched away from you. Her head thrashed through the air, stretching her neck with each shake.

Erica drove deeper into you, hurting you, but you fought through it, determined to see this to an end no matter what it looked like. You gasped and moaned along with Erica. Her muscles thickened along her craning and increasingly fur-covered neck. Whipping hair obscured her face.

Her shoulders slid around her body, taking up a position more suitable for a four-legged animal. She embraced you with her wings and her hips crashed into you with the fury of storm waves. Your head pressed against her chest, and you heard the sound of a dozen beating hearts. Her long, furry stomach rolled beneath you. The whipping tail wrapped itself around your leg.

You looked up and saw her neck wrap in a long curve. The white hair over her face parted.

The tip of a slender, grayed snout extended past the mane's curtain. Erica raised a shaking paw to the tip of her black nose. It quivered at the air, taking in the splintered scents of the room. Long jaws worked open, revealing a set of sharp, white teeth. Erica's moans came out of those jaws, rough, deep, but Erica's all the same.

Her eagle claw cupped your bottom and pushed you deeper into her. Her neck wrapped behind you. She snarled, yowled, growled, and made every frightful and primal noise imaginable, as if an entire menagerie inside of her was fighting to be heard. The din drowned out your own cries.

The muscles in her body threaded and tethered, bones shifted and curved in one final push that shoved you both to a peak. Whatever you were entwined with was no longer human. Claws, paws, tails, wings, snouts, all touched you and wanted you.

The moment arrived -the moment where your body had enough and your mind was overblown by countless onslaughts both physical and mental. Far too many sounds, too many touches and feelings inside your mind and around your body grappled for dominance.

A piercing flash shot through your shaft and you lower body screamed in release. You both shook at the same time, called out, groped, clutched at each others incredibly dissimilar figures in midair, and made half-conscious, unintelligible declarations of love. The windows rattled and the city lights outside flashed until the cries subsided like a dying twister.

The tension in the air wound down and you drifted back to the mattress.

Erica's now much larger form uncoiled around you. Her tail slid off the mattress and spooled on the ground. Her wings shook in post-coital fuzziness. She brushed the mane from her face, letting you see just how much she changed.

Her muzzle hung half-open. Long teeth glistened. Her slender head had a deer's elegance and a wolf's pointedness. The fur around her closed eyes were dark and moist with joyful tears. Tall ears poked from the top of her heavy mane.

Lids pulled open. Still wide and vivid, but instead of a brilliant hazel, her irises shifted to a reflective rouge painted on golden eyes. They narrowed into an easy gratefulness

She slithered into the air and ran her paws up her body as if in a dream. The ribbon of her tail looped in the air and dangled over her nose. Her long mouth pulled back in animal-bliss. Her wing tips drew lines across the muscles of her stomach and legs in quiet triumph. You kept silent, or tried to, as your chest still heaved after the mountainous effort of joining.

Her damp breath settled over you. She dipped her long neck and slid her wet nose around your chin in lazy circles. Air passed in and out through her snout as she took in your scent and held it close. She closed her eyes and licked slow lines across your neck and shoulders with a slim tongue. Your breath caught while lying underneath the strange creature bathing you with her affection. Great wings, like two expansive arms, wrapped over you and drew your body into her protective and satiated embrace.

Your eyes jumped between her wings, her neck, and finally to her eyes. Recognition lurked behind her sleepy, gaze.

“Erica?”

Her tongue slid up the side of your right cheek and she pressed her muzzle into your hair. A talon was laid across your lips. “Shhhh,” she purred.

Her paw trailed along your body, grazing your legs, hovering over your genitals, before finally resting beneath your chin. “Thank you,” she whispered, nosing through your hair. “Thank you.”

“And my name,” she added. “Don't call me Erica. That's not my name. It's Eris. Call me Eris.”

"Until I Can Figure Out What You Need"

She fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion and bliss. You remained wide awake, wrapped in the embrace of a girl who pushed herself into an undeniably mythic state. She held you close, like a prized possession. You couldn't move if you wanted to. Bestial legs wrapped around your own. A paw rubbed against the top of your foot. A lion paw secured your chest.

Was this the ancient thing Erica spoke about? It had to be. An amalgamation of blood and animal parts breathed in slumber above you. How long had she been asleep inside of Erica? Or was this really Erica all along?

And why did she ask to be called Eris?

This was still Erica, right?

You looked at her serene muzzle and cautiously brushed her silvery hair aside. There wouldn't be many answers now. You stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine what would happen next and realized its futility. Anything could happen, Erica took pride in that, and it worried you.

But you didn't worry for Erica. You worried for everyone else, and rightly so.

-

Morning came as normal. Soft golden light passed through the dirtied window pane. Erica's eyes opened a slit. Her head slid into the air and leaned down to give a sleepy kiss. The loops of hair dangled over your forehead.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” you replied.

You stared deep into her face that was a strange mixture of wolf and deer, and so many things in between, looking for a trace of the girl you met on the bus. The chestnut depth of her skin was covered with gray fur. There were little echoes of her former features -the shape of her eyes, prominence of her jawline, and few other unnameable things.

Or did your mind force illusions upon you?

“Is something wrong?” Her voice felt alien, coming from that animal's muzzle. Was she hiding inside there somewhere, working this body like an elaborate costume?

She smelled your disquiet and drew her muzzle down your chest and back to your lips. Her talons hooked around your hand. “I promise, it's still me. I feel more like me than I ever have.” She sighed. “God, I feel...” she rolled off of you and the bed, slumping to the floor.

She stretched out and giggled. “Absolutely amazing,” she declared. You looked at her body in the morning light, noting just how much she changed over the course of your union. Her overall form was serpentine, echoing the picture of a mostly-furred Chinese dragon. She was a biological impossibility with her wings, paws, and claws, but she moved and breathed and laughed all the same.

The pile of her clothes, some ripped, some whole, sat discarded by the bed like a cocoon or old husk that was shed to realize a more remarkable creature.

Her body writhed like a black snake firecracker as her arms ran across herself in blind bliss once more. You saw the parts you made love to last night. Fur shaded her lower lips and the morning shadows draped her intimate regions with dark washes from a painter's brush.

Her wings drew across her legs, not at all human, but retaining a generous feminine curve that elicited a stir below your waist. Erica caught you staring.

“Not bad, hm?” She kicked a wolfish leg high into the air, showing off her inner thigh, and wiggled her paw. “Think of all the tricks I can do with these.” Erica slithered to the bedside and ran a claw over your forearm. “Care to do a few test runs?”

“You're not phased by this at all?” Unsurprised disbelief hung around your voice as you gestured to her spread out body. “We bump uglies and that happens to you, and it doesn't...” you shrugged.

Her ear cocked. “Why should I waste time on flipping my shit? You're not freaking out. Still. In fact, you were pretty enthusiastic last night. ”

“I may be hallucinating. I'm not sure I believe in these past few days.”

Erica slid onto the bed and nuzzled your neck. “You have some messed up hallucinations then, lover-buddy,” her dark lips moved around your hair. “Believe in me, at least,” she asked earnestly. “We'll have a lot more fun if you do.” She took your hand and winked.

“I may as well believe in something. Okay, I believe in you. I also believe I need a shower because I still believe in hygiene. I'll believe that the restroom and bathtub works to make my life easier.”

“That's the spirit,” she encouraged and rolled around as you got off the bed. Standing up took great effort, as your stomach was racked with soreness. She pressed the sheets to her chest and her tail curled around your thigh until you walked out of its reach.

You picked your backpack up from the corner of the room. Inside was your tooth brush and a clean set of clothes. “Take your time,” she called after you, “I'll think of what to do for the day.”

“No karaoke,” you answered before closing the bathroom door. She cackled in the other room.

Your hands rested on the refurbished sink as you studied your reflection. You looked a damn mess. Hair out of sorts, eyes heavy. Bite marks and scratches dotted your neck and shoulders. Every muscle in your body hung with terrible fatigue. Your balls were pinched and drained like an African water well. You needed water, food, and the number to a good therapist.

The water ran after turning the faucet on. You stepped into the shower like a normal human being and tried to wash away the last twelve hours, but the memories would stain you forever.

You dried yourself off and brushed your teeth, but Erica's taste, human or otherwise hung on your lips.

On came your underwear. Pants and shirt, wrinkled, but clean. Socks, etc. etc. You went slow and didn't bother lying to yourself as to why. You needed to think. What would you do after going back into that room? You stared at the closed door and felt bottomless uncertainty. Is this what people feel when waking up next to a stranger?

But Erica wasn't a stranger. That's why you weren't panicking, or screaming, or running around at the sight of the strange creature. Her voice was too familiar. You kissed her last night. She kissed you. Was this normalcy the desperate act of a mind that realized all previous rules no longer mattered?

The lack of decisiveness felt worse than fear.

You opened the door. She was slung around the window like a giant cat. Wings hung off her shoulders like a robe. The brush of her tail flicked in contemplation. Her red eyes held still.

You had no idea what to do. What would any other person do?

“I'm bored of this place,” she said, not looking at you. “We've been here too long. Let's go somewhere. Somewhere we've never been before. But where? Where, where, where...” her voice drifted off.

“Do think you could go outside and not cause a scene?”

“I like scenes,” she said with no mind to you. “Scenes are fun.”

“I think we should take this slow.”

She blew white hair off her forehead and looked at you, annoyed. “Fine. No crowds, no riots,” she conceded. “God forbid I inconvenience you in some way.”

“Don't be like that, Erica.”

“Eris,” she prompted with a sharp glance.

“Fine. Eris,” you said. She eased back, satisfied. You walked to the far side of the room and set your backpack against the torn curlicue wallpaper. “I think we need some space to ourselves, so you can, I dunno, adjust? Last night scared the crap out of me, okay? Don't roll your eyes, I was...I didn't have fun. Neither of us did.” Her eyebrow raised defensively. “I mean, before hand. In the streets. Okay, I was scared.” You sat on the bed and took a deep breath. “Shitless.” you specified. “Between that and you,” you pointed to her lengthy body. “The last thing either of us need is a crowd panicking around us. That may be your bag, but for God's sake, let's try and space it out.”

You shook your head. “But yeah, let's get out of here. Both of us need fresh air, someplace far away from people and tight buildings.”

Her features softened. “You're right.” She turned her neck towards you and drew her wings close. “Thanks for staying with me last night and not bolting off once my skull decided to redecorate itself. I'd probably be passed out in a gutter surrounded by wrecked cars if you weren't there.” Her extended ribcage rose and fell as she breathed. Her brow raised. “Although that'd be quite a sight...”

“And you didn't even drink last night.”

She threw a pillow at you.

“Just name a place already, you dork, or I will need a drink. Where do you want to go?” she asked.

You thought about things generally agreed to be nice.. “Hm. Someplace by the water. Someplace sunny.”

“With grass? I like grass,” her voice popped at the prospect of seeing grass.

“Grass is good.”

Erica-Eris padded to the closet door. She knocked a few times and slinked inside, leaving the door open a crack. The tip of her tail drifted out and beckoned you close like a tassel teasing a cat.

“How the hell did you fit in there?”

“Magic, now shut up and come into my cave of wonders,” she echoed from within.

“Didn't I do that last night?”

Her tail hung in the air and for a brief moment she considered leaving you in that room. “You're a really dumb boy, you know that?”

“I'm still hanging out with you, yeah I'm dumb.”

“Your fault, not mine. Now c'mon! C'mon!”

You went from the bed to the closet door and edged past the threshold. Erica's lion paw closed the door, leaving you both in darkness. Her tail ran up your back. You felt like a kid playing hide and seek.

“So what happens next?” you whispered for some reason.

“I'm not sure,” she whispered back. “I've only done this once before.” She knocked on the door. “Feel like making out until something happens?”

“I don't know, last time I made out with a girl she turned into a dragon-thing.”

“Ooh, harsh. You should get that checked out.”

“Probably.”

“Mind, I don't think I'm a dragon,” she touched your stomach in the dark, making you jump. “Dragons eat people, right?”

“Sometimes.”

She snapped her jaws. Clack.

The light in the door cracks flickered and brightened. Erica motioned for you to open the door. You did so. Sunlight flooded the closet.

“Wow, that's bright,” she said after you both tumbled out of the closet and onto a flat spread of grass. She rubbed her eyes and bit at the wind blowing across her wings. You stood up and blinked, trying to find out where on Earth she took you.

You heard the billow of wind and the rush of waves. You stood several dozen yards away from a cliff that dropped out into the ocean. Rocks thrust out of the ground at irregular intervals. Grass that ranged from sandy brown to light green waved in the wind at differing heights. The caw of seagulls echoed on the breeze. You took a deep breath and felt dizzy from the heady salt-air.

You jumped when Erica's muzzle rested on your shoulder and tasted the air alongside you. Her white hair whipped in the breeze. You reached up and scratched her ear and found the fine strands of fur there pleasant to touch. Her eyes closed and she bit her lip, tilting her head towards your fingers.

“Oh...my god,” she muttered. “Never stop doing that...”

You continued scratching her. Her muscles melted and her wings fell across your back. “Oh....ohh...” she cooed.

You stopped before it turned too weird, but wrote it down as a very important mental note for later abuse. Erica looked disappointed when you stepped away, leaving her to hang in the air, dopey look on her face and all.

“That's not fair, guy,” she called and trotted past you. The sky was bright, and sun highlighted her antlers and gave her coat a clean, healthy sheen. The diamond-blue tips of her feathers glinted. Even her bat wing portrayed a handsome slickness. Her endlessly agile red tail curled with unashamed eagerness.

She turned her head to the side. White hair, filled with more twists and loops than a rollercoaster, bounced around her neck. Her new form bent to no conventional law of nature, but you'd be hard pressed to deny that Erica metamorphosed into a tremendous and striking figure.

“Get over here already,” she called while laughing. Something in your chest jumped.

You quickened to the cliff face, noting the very long drop.

Erica leaned over the edge, looked down, then towards the sea and saw who-knows-what across the horizon. “It's quiet here,” she observed. “But it's an open, natural quiet. Not the stiff, cramped quiet like at the apartment.”

A bird squawked on a seaside nest. Erica opened her mouth and loosed a similar caw.

“Do you know what they're saying?” you asked.

Erica shrugged her wings and pulled at bits of grass and tossed them into the wind where they blew across the water. “I guess? Normal bird stuff. They're not the brightest animals. I don't think they have much to say, really. But what about you? What do you have to say?”

She dipped over the edge of the cliff and dug her claws into the rock. You watched her tread over the stone and dirt like a salamander. “I think you're showing off,” you said.

“A bit, sure. Just testing, though. Just testing.”

You smiled. “It's nice out here. Good breeze, good sun. I haven't seen the ocean in a long time.” You bent your knees and picked up a thumb-sized rock and tested its weight.

“Was the last time with...you know?” Erica asked.

You nodded and threw the stone into the sea. She watched the rock sail downwards and make a puttering splash in the water.

“That was a really bad throw,” she said. You heard a quick whistle and the wet rock thudded into your chest. “Try again.”

You popped your shoulder. “Miss Critical here,” you sneered. You wound your arm back and made what you judged to be worthy throw. It flew some ways further and hit the water with an unimpressive plip. “It's the wind,” you explained, “It's blowing the wrong way, messes up my throw.” Erica's bright eyes didn't move.

The wind eased bit by bit. Your shirt stopped flapping. “Did you, uh...” you waved a finger in the air.

“Yes. I did.” You caught the rock as it flew out from the ocean again, trailing water. “Walk the walk,” she teased.

“Christ,” you muttered. “There's no leaving well enough alone with you.” She laughed and clung to the rocks.

You threw the rock a third time with as much juice as could be mustered. It flew straighter, but not so far as to impress any baseball fans. You beamed.

“Woo, think I pulled a muscle there. Hot dog, what a toss.” You sat down, legs dangled over the edge. You looked down from your high vantage point and saw the stubborn plants that clung to the rough, jagged earth jutting out from the ocean. Birds nested on a few of them.

“Forgive me,” you intoned, “If my throws don't go past the stratosphere.”

Erica circled around you. Her tail fluttered in the wind and she crossed her arms, lying on her stomach. Her head leaned against you. You hands clasped together.

“What did you do to that guy?” you asked in all seriousness.

With a slow movement that made her antlers look ponderous, she looked at you. “I sent him away,” she explained.

“Sent him where?” you pressed. “Did you kill him?”

“Of course not,” she added, thinking you were being dramatic. “That would be too easy for him. I don't know where he is, honestly. Somewhere far. Exotic. Pretty sure people don't speak English there.”

Your elbows rested on your knees. “Could you bring him back, if you wanted to?”

She scratched her chin and thought. “If I felt it was pressing enough. With some time, I don't see why not. But you could say that for anybody. As is, I don't care where he landed. Why do you care?”

“It seems a bit extreme, don't you think? Neither of us got hurt, you could've knocked him out and planted him in front of a police station or, something.” You sniffed. “Not that I feel ungrateful. I almost pissed myself.”

She blew a raspberry. “You're nicer than I am,” she said severely. “He tried to hurt you. Why would I want to go easy on him? This'll probably work out better for the bastard in the long run.”

“You think so?”

She ran her talons across her paw and touched at the space between her pads. “Well, for starts, he spent half the night creeping around a slimy back alley waiting to stick a knife in people's necks. And who knows how long he's been at that. Do you think he was happy with a mugger's lot in life? Things have not been good for him.”

“Second...yeah, I could've smacked him silly, tied him up and left him for the cops, but that's no good for anyone. Then he'd be in jail, and that'd only make things worse for him -sitting in a cell all day, staring at a wall. Way too boring. Unless he got beat up in there, otherwise it's a total dead-end. No. I like my way better. I gave him the gift of relocation to some far off and exciting place where he can either sink or swim. A fresh start at life where nobody knows his name or past grievances. If he's smart, he'll make different choices and be just fine, and if not...well, other people don't hand out second chances like me.”

Her voice dropped. “And third. Third. He almost hurt you.” Her tail curled around your bicep. “I'm half-surprised I didn't break his neck then and there. You said you don't want to see me hurt. Well, I want to see you safe too. After all, you drove all the way to an ice cream shop you didn't even know closed down, you're such a dummy!”

You blushed, having no defense for that one.

“But that does take some balls. I like that.” Her fur rippled over you and she kissed your cheek. You closed your eyes and returned the kiss. Your hands hovered over her muzzle before stroking her. “I'm not a dog,” she muttered, but didn't stop you. She blushed beneath her fur.

Fingers traced the subtle coloration of her fur and felt the bone structure beneath her skin. You touched under her chin, across her dark eyes and ears and thick threads of her curly hair. You closed your eyes and kissed the black lips of her muzzle. Her jaws parted and she inhaled, inviting you in. Your tongue entered her mouth and touched the pointed tips of her teeth. Her dexterous tongue brushed over yours.

“Is this helping?” her lips moved against yours. “Is this going to take a while to get used to?”

Did she ask the question for your benefit or her own? “Maybe not as much as I thought at first.” Accepting her physicality was the hardest part. All logic dictated she shouldn't exist. This thing you're touching could not be real. But she felt real. She tasted real.

“I'm sorry about last night,” she said, her mouth dancing around your lips. “I'm sorry about this, but thank you for letting me bring it out.”

“Did you know what would happen to you?” You studied her. Erica's eyes averted your own.

“I told you. I had dreams. I wanted out, but I didn't know how to...” she huffed and her ears fell flat. “it wasn't on purpose. Last night...it hurt.”

Your arms encircled her neck and you lied back, legs still hanging off the edge of the world. The wind returned. Erica hugged you tight, as if for warmth. An odd notion as her body was still hot as ever. Air filled her wings and raised them with the half-purpose of sheets on a clothesline while the two of you touched each other on the grass with no particular purpose.

Erica directed your hands down her sides and slowly pressed her hips against you. Your response was similar. There was much she enjoyed about her new body. Most of the day could easily be spent exploring it.

Her furry cheeks rubbed against yours in an absent-minded way. You dimly remembered reading an article saying that was how some animals marked their territory. In a moment of wise discretion, you let the thought go unvoiced. It felt nice, at any rate.

For a flashing but powerful, moment, you wondered what it would be like to have Erica laying with you instead of 'Eris.'

Her head lifted. “Something wrong?” she asked.

The wind hiked up and caught the inside of her wings. The feathers shook and her taut skin billowed, taking her into the air.

“Oops,” she uttered as her mouth drew off you. She giggled as her wings angled this way and that to hover several feet over the cliff and above the sea. The clear image of a Chinese kite came to mind as her snakelike body and tail swam through the wind.

You sat upright and couldn't help but smile at the joy bubbling inside of her.

“I can fly,” she grinned. “This should be lame, but I don't care. Should I kick the breeze up some more?”

A cold gush went across your back. Your hands dug into the ground. “Take you by surprise there? Sure would suck if-”

A vicious gale swept over the seaside plane and blew you over the edge. Your stomach dropped, as did everything else.

Erica's wings closed onto to her body and zipped down. She coiled around you in midair as you shouted the same surprised curse word over and over while your eyes bugged out at a rocky ocean scape that rushed towards you far too fast.

She spiraled the two of you into a clear patch of sea that threw up great bubbles and thrushes of water upon dunking. You opened your eyes and saw sunlight wobble and bend through the ocean's surface. Sea water burned your eyes. Bubbles foamed upwards. A long, dark thing slithered through the water like a sea serpent. Wings rushed like blotches of ink. You kicked and struggled to the surface, chest burning and eyes feeling fit to pop out of your skull.

You broke past the ocean, feeling sick and thirsty for air. You coughed up seawater and held you thumping head.

“Erica,” you gasped when she surfaced, laughing. “Was that on purpose?”

“Eris,” she pointed. “And calm down.” She filled her mouth with water and shot a spout over your head. “You're fine.”

“Fuck, that wasn't fun,” you spat. Your skull lurched. You paddled and looked for something to grab onto in vain. The waves were growing rough.

“You know lots of people run over sea cliffs for fun,” she said while calmly bobbing in the water. She hooked her tail under your arms for support. “I mean, really, don't tell me you didn't see us winding up down here.”

You rubbed salt out of your eyes. Her hair hung around her shoulder, glistening sea water. “I wouldn't let you drown, I promise. Even if it was stormy. Like this.”

The sky inverted itself. Clouds kneaded themselves from the blue plain above and turned dark and grumbled in anger. The wind howled along the rocks and spraying waves.

“Eric- Eris,” you said, looking at the billowing clouds and choppy waters with uncertainty. Water flooded into your mouth which you swallowed.

“Thank you.”

“Let's just...go back up there, okay.”

She looked down. “Why? It's just water.” She splashed you. “Don't be scared.”

Thunder rocked the sky. She looked pleased. “Ah, that was nice.”

The waves made you feel dizzy. “Eris, please.”

Her brow furrowed and her teeth flashed. “Christ, can you go five minutes without acting like a baby when I do something flashy?”

You responded, but she cut you off before starting.

“No, don't say anything. You liked it well enough when sticking your tongue into me or getting your dick wet, huh?” She jerked her tail away and left you to splash in the rough ocean. “Selfish.”

Your head dunked underwater from a spasm of current. “Dammit, if we're going to argue can we do it on dry land?” you coughed.

She groaned harshly before diving and diving and grabbing you by the elbow. She fired into the air with little regard for you shoulder and dropped you on the ground without ceremony.

Rain fell. So much for dry land. Her eyes lit with agitation as she shook the water from her mane. You stretched the pain from your shoulder socket.

“Alright, solid ground. Happy?” Her hind leg stomped the ground. Lightning flashed nearby.

You shook water off your face and asked “Why the mood swing?”

Her brow lowered and voice sharpened. “The whole reason for coming out here was to let me have some stretching room. Look at me,” her wings shot out, “Look at me. Do you think I'm going to take it easy like this? That I can afford to? I can't just-” She shook her head, blinking, “Can't play it safe because it makes you nervous. I need to know what I can do.” Her tail whipped in wild circles. A low hum built in the air.

“Don't treat me like a rag doll to splash around with.”

“You can walk back through that door if you're going to keep soiling your undies,” she spat.

The free-standing frame's door flapped open and close in the wind. You stepped toward it, stopped, stepped back towards Eris, and groaned. “Dammit, don't you get it? I can't just leave.”

“Why? Are you worried about me?”

Your jaw clenched and cast your gaze to the puddles forming on the ground. “How can I not be?”

She growled and bounded towards you like a jaguar, throwing streams of water off her wings and claws. “Get this through your stupid round head: I'm going to be great. I'm freaking peachy. I'm at the top of the world right now, it's you, you” she stressed, “that I'm worried about.”

You laughed. Hard. “You're gonna have to explain that.” Her horns whined across the cliffs.

“Look at you,” she cried. “You came halfway across the country to some crappy city to visit a crappy shut down ice cream shop,” her jaw hung open in disbelief. “All because you wanted to catch some long gone moment of your past in a bid to get your life back on track. Do you know how insane that sounds to me? You go hunting for ghosts and when I showed them to you, you have a seizure.”

Her anger turned to sadness on a dime. “Going back is the last thing on Earth you need. The whole world is open to you right now, and you want to go back.” Her thick paw ran through her soaked hair. “I'm trying to-” her eyes closed and nostrils flared. “I swear to God, I'm trying to show you something different until I can figure out what you need, but you're hard to pin, and honest to God, I can't understand why I'm trying.”

You blinked as cold water ran down your forehead. “What I need?” You looked up at the dirty, angry clouds. All the bones in your body wanted to drop. “I need dry clothes and something to eat,” you muttered. “Or is that too plain for you?”

She deflated and looked at the ground. “It is. But I'm not having fun anymore. This place is too flat anyway. Can't get any good work done here." Eris pinched her forehead with her paw and winced. "My head's killing me. Let's leave.” She tread past you, kicking up water between her paws.

You walked to the door, but told yourself you weren't following her. Mud squelched beneath your shoes.

She leaned against the frame standing in the middle of the seaside. “You first,” she said. “Otherwise I'll be tempted to make the door disappear when I go.”

You entered in silence. Eris shoved you aside when entering and closed and opened the door back into that musty, dirty room that smelled like dirty laundry and dust. The walls seemed to creak with pressurized frustration.

The two of you stood on opposite ends of the room, stewing in agitation, trying to parse it into a manageable size. You shivered, feeling like a washrag.

“This is a lot for both of us,” you ventured, uncomfortable with the unfriendly silence. “We're not feeling horny, so, I guess...I guess we're both...crashing into the ugliness here. I don't know the right way to grip this.”

“Maybe there isn't a right way,” she replied.

“Probably not,” you admitted. “I don't want to imagine how you feel. How's all this not terrifying you?”

“Never said it wasn't,” said Eris with her face towards the wall.

You looked at her. Her hips and legs slumped against the floor. Water dripped from her wingtips and low-slung chin. You wanted to take a towel and dry the misery off of her.

“I need to sit for a while,” you said instead. “Sorry to say that, but I'm not as special as you. Just flesh and blood here.”

Her shoulders slackened. “No, I understand. Swimming tuckers me out, too. But c'mon. I've got skin same as you,” hurt lurked behind her voice. The sky outside was showing late afternoon. You didn't know how her trick played with time, but you weren't going to question it.

You sogged onto the bed like a swamp monster. You kicked off your shoes and stared at the warped floorboards without comment. Behind you was the movement of fur and scales.

“I'm going outside. I won't cause a scene,” she lied.

You didn't comment, only saying “Be careful.”

For a moment you considered stopping her, but that seemed a fruitless endeavor. Both of your minds were far outside of the moment, place, and rationality.

Besides, a little space between the two of you seemed necessary. Very necessary. You were on the verge of losing your mind, but against all reason she was likely the only thing keeping you sane. But still. Too much time together was too much time together. And she'll be fine, after all. Completely fine. Nothing to worry about. She kept saying so herself.

“Hey,” she said, soft as silk, weighted with concern.

“Hm?”

“Don't hang out in here all day. It's not good to be in this place alone. Get outside for a bit. Walk around.”

“Sure. I can do that,” you said without much conviction.

Her claws clacked the floor while she thought to herself before leaving the room. The staircase creaked under her weight. The door to the back alley opened and closed.

Your eyes trailed over the skyline of the city out the window for the lack of any real focus. A single thought worried your mind. Neither you or Erica, or Eris, or whatever she was to be called, could tell what would happen next. You only knew it wasn't going to be good.

“Dammit,” you whispered before rushing down the staircase, almost tripping on the way to the bottom and throwing open the door and seeing nothing but an empty alley.

City sounds buzzed in the background, but the weight of loneliness still pressed on your shoulders.

You've made a big mistake.

"A Breaker of Promises"

Eris couldn't waste sweat over small things. “Small,” is what she emphasized. Itty bitty gnats of conscience buzzing in her ears lead nowhere. Swathes of the earth opened up and the possibilities blossomed in her mind's field.

The pock marks and cracks of warm concrete and glass panes flowed beneath her pads and palms. Each surface penetrated into never-before felt tactile dimension. She ran upwards, yearning for height. She wanted to see the sky and earth stretch out until they kissed.

She breathed deep, smelling sweet plants, sweaty people, bad food, asphalt, and the sting of car exhaust. The wind ruffled her fur and sent her buoyant white mane sailing and caught the colors of the afternoon sun. The rooftops of more buildings and towers sprouted in her ascent of some important looking skyscraper or other.

True, she could have flown and saved time, but her muscles cried for exercise. Her hearts beat at the exhilaration of watching her new limbs reach out and scale the structure in a rampant defiance of gravity and traction.

Inside, computer screens flashed in wild striations. Printers beeped incomprehensible morse code while flinging out reams of ink-blotted paper. Phones wailed and fluorescent lights shimmered in waves as a strange shape swept upwards past the windows. Office workers panicked.

Eris jumped over the rim of the building's rooftop and slid claw-over-paw up the building's antenna. The wind unwound the ribbons of her blue and purple wings. The length of her body curled over the precarious holding of the thin metal beam, but she had all the poise of a cheetah surveying her domain.

And what a domain she had. Sunlight glinted off the edges of skyscrapers imprinting the city's metroscape. Cranes poked their sleepy heads above the rise. Streams of cars composed the lifeblood of its highways, flowing in spurts and criss-crossing each other in half-deliberate knots. Heavy cargo ships drifted in the water channels of the port, surrounded by scores of smaller vessels.

Her eyes gazed further, noting the sprawling web of satellite towns and suburbs melting seamlessly into each other. She wished it was night -the city scape would open its electric eyes and the lights would shine into the air and let everyone know for miles around that this place was alive.

Outwards still, forestry and trees guarded fields of grass and edible things that grew from the dirt, teeming with who knows what. The cornea and lens of her eyes re-threaded to focus on a cow nosing through an old log.

She touched her face and felt a smile at the edges of her snout. The voices and beating hearts of millions of people shook the earth. The vibrations rumbled beneath the metal gripped with her mismatched hands and feet.

There were so many of them. Lines of possibilities and outcome stitched across her vision. Her forearms trembled at the thought of a world where anything was possible. But she was different now, and unlike before, even the impossible posed no limit. Unlike before.

Before.

Something in her chest hurt. A lion paw stroked the fur over her firm-muscled breast.

She spent a lot of Before on the sidelines, watching. Hoping for...something. An eagle claw ran through her silver curls. At last she was here, utterly and fully here. Eris. As she should be.

The rooftop felt quiet. She was on her own for the first time in several days, as Erica or Eris. Her shoulders grouped close. “Oh, Erica,” Eris said to something just beyond sight. “You wonderful girl.”

She leapt off the antenna and high into the air. Her wings flung wide and every square inch of feather and bat-skin caught the wind. The curves of her horns shined bright white in the sun. Her body soared along the current, red tail curling through the air. Laughter glided on the wind.

“Look at us now!” she whooped and let the wind take her wherever it wanted.

The dice of her body rolled end over end through the air, mouth wide and hands spread out. Anything was possible.

-

Eris wished to stay in the sky forever. Joy replaced the blood in her veins and her heart was all too eager to pump. But gravity coaxed her down just as the sun dipped to the other side of the world. Night lights turned on, but she was too low to see them all. Another day, for sure.

She drifted over one of the city's out-of-the-way roads. The kind that has a name, but no one could ever seem to recall it when asked. The kind no one paid attention to when driving across the way, if anyone drove down there at all, except for the occasional gray-faced worker walking into the gray-painted warehouses.

A high fence rattled as she blew over and latched onto the corner of one nameless building. Dirtied orange fluorescent lights hissed at sparse intervals. Blocks of dust-covered concrete and sprawling pipes cut black shapes in the night. She sniffed and felt the itch of stale chemicals and rust.

“Out of all the places,” Eris thought, dropping the tips of her wings . Maybe she could find a forklift and drive it without a license. That could be fun. Hit a few paint cans. Do a few wheelies. Drag race.

Then Eris heard the sound of footsteps over gravel and her interest kindled.

Her eyes widened in the dark and saw someone skirt the edge of a dim lamp attached to the wall.

Claws moved over the walls with no more sound than what a normal breeze would allow. She kept her wolfish deer head close to the wall, stretching her arms and legs far out before her in quick succession. The person she trailed wore a heavy, faded coat. A ratty backpack covered in duct tape hung off their shoulders. The wind gasped and whistled through Eris's horns.

She slid up the wall like rain water and onto the roof. Her ear twitched, hearing the person below pause and turn, but saw nothing except a shuttered warehouse draped in a few strips of moonlight. Eris heard their breath pick up before moving again.

She peeked over the roof top and saw the night traveler hustle to a metal door. Arms reached out and worked with the handle before opening it with great effort. The hinges creaked and closed with the indignation.

Inside, the visitor moved with the slow deliberation of someone going through a familiar room in the dark. They moved through stacks of buckets and bands of metal beams, further and further away from openings that may allow the wind to sneak in, or passerbys to easily glimpse through.

They went to their knees, groaning on the way down, and slid the back pack off. The stubborn old zipper opened in jerks. A very used hand crank lantern emerged. The handle turned a few times and the person took care to light a very small portion of their space. Mitted hands dug into the pack again and pulled out a weathered sleeping bag. They dusted the worst of the dirt from the floor and unrolled it. The warehouse echoed with soft crinkling.

The visitor pulled her hood down and rubbed her head.

“Hello,” she heard from somewhere up in the rafters. Her heart thumped and arms flew to the light, unsure whether to turn it off or search for the speaker.

“Who's there?” she ventured through a sore throat.

“Just me,” came the reply. The voice wasn't angry, and sounded too young and feminine to be a usual night watchmen.

“I'll leave, alright? No need to get pushy, I'll leave, no trouble. Alright?” her voice shook. She bundled the sleeping bag in her arms.

“Don't panic on me, you're cool,” the voice assured. The criss-crossing beams beneath the ceiling rattled.

The visitor grabbed her lantern and aimed its soft beam upwards. The light glowed just strong enough to catch the outline of some long thing moving long limbs through the metal jungle gym. A tail dipped to the ground.

“Oh, God...” she gasped, hoarse.

The thing's eyes caught the weak light and reflected them back ten fold, a heart-freezing gold. Its head bent below the beams, and the rest of its body dripped down like candlewax made of fur and wings.

Huge swathes of hair brushed the floor, followed by a scaled yellow arm touching the ground, followed by a muscular furred one. Wings opened to balance as it stood on its arms. The head swung out, studying her. Its rear legs and tail twisted to the ground in near-weightlessness. A dark tail slithered in the air.

The thing stayed on the rim of the lantern's glow. She didn't know what to call it. A monster? But the thing was made up of too many familiar parts to be a proper monster. Her mind struggled to cram it into any kind of category, but the more she tried to understand it in the dim light, the more confused she became.

Large eyes blinked on a wolfish face. Or deer like, or, or, or-

“What's your name?” came a voice from the black-rimmed lips on its pointed snout. The reaction between seeing that, hearing that, and accepting that was delayed.

“My name?”

It nodded. She saw the milky-blue horns on its head and tried not to swallow.

“Bea. Bea.” She clutched the sleeping bag to her chest, ignoring the pain in her fingers. The door she came in from seemed a million miles away.

“Nice meeting you, Bea.” Its head swayed along the light's edge. “I'm Eris.”

“E-Er...” she blinked. Her eyes hurt from trying to adjust to the poor light and focusing on this...whatever this freak was. “Are you a demon?”

It laughed. Maybe howled. Somewhere in between the two. Bea's legged kicked out and pushed her backwards. The thing -Eris, raised a birdlike hand tipped with black curving claws.

“Sorry, sorry, please don't be scared. It's just,” Bea thought it smiled. “Just a really funny thing to hear.”

“Are you an angel then? An alien? Or something else? What the hell are you?”

Eris turned her head and studied the floor and the darkness. Her mouth moved and said “Let's settle on a 'something else,' for now.”

Bea half-coughed and half-laughed. “Never seen one of you at the zoo.”

The not-animal settled on its forelegs. Thick white hair spilled across the floor. “It'd take one hell of a zoo to hold me.”

“Not gonna eat me, then?” asked Bea, bobbing somewhere between terrified and curious.

Eris studied her face. It was...somewhat clean. Deep-set lines were drawn around her eyes and mouth. She may have been pretty, once. She may even be pretty now, in an earthy sort of way. If she smiled, maybe. If life gave her enough to smile about, at least.

Her tail swept over the dusty ground. “Nah. Not gonna eat you.”

Dragons sometimes eat people, Eris thought in the back of her mind. Good thing I don't think I'm one of those.

“What if I eat you?”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “Uhh...”

“No,” Bea shook her head, studying the lines of Eris's body. “ Too stringy.”

Eris laughed.

Bea continued. “Odds are you're just a sickness in my head. Brain playing tricks on me.” She prodded her temples with two fingers. “It's done that before, but normally I can tell,”

“I'm not that kind of trick,” Eris rapped a knuckle on the floor. “I exist plenty outside of your head.”

“Seems you do,” Bea admitted, still wary. “You look too solid for a figment.”

“This isn't a bad place to camp out,” Eris quipped, not eager to dwell on imaginary things.

Bea shrugged. “Hardly no one ever checks at night. Even in the day.” She still held the lantern between them. “Still best not to stay more 'n one or two nights at a time. No one's ever happy to find you...”

“Yeah,” Eris said, “I know what you mean.”

“I'm not surprised, lookin' at you,” Bea observed.

“Well, I've had my share of camp-outs,” Eris replied, looking at her paws. “I know different odds and ends.”

“Do you know how to make the pains in bones go away?”

Eris looked at Beat from the top of her eyes. Her chapped lips were tight and her hands squeezed each other along the joints

“Pain's always there,” Bea explained. “Mama was bad arthritic, not surprising I caught it too.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Do you know how to make the cramp inside the stomach go away? That doesn't always hurt, but when it does...” Bea grimaced.

Eris remained silent.

“One hell of a useful figment you are,” Bea half-heartedly snorted and closed her eyes. “Swing down into peoples' sleeping spots and scare 'em to Heaven's gate. Ain't you something. Ain't you something. What are you for, even? Asides from creeping over folks like me? What do you want, already?”

“Honestly, I wanted someone to talk to.”

Bea's eyebrows narrowed and lips drew down. “Hmph. Presuming, then, that I just wanted a chat, huh? You want to talk to someone, go to the park or get a phone. Don't come troubling me, who's got enough troubles as is, and who's tired on top of it all.”

“Tired of what,” the thing questioned, her voice taking a sharp interest, “specifically?”

“The hell you imagine, 'specifically'? Pains. All of 'em everywhere, throat, knees, head, and none of them goin' away,” Bea rasped. “Tired of walking around all day with nowhere t'go, and everyone pretending they can't see me. Most of all I'm tired that don't bother me anymore. Exhausted that tomorrow's gonna be more of the same. Specific enough, huh? And what's it matter to you.?”

Eris pulled her hind legs in and lowered her head, unable to find her voice.

Bea rubbed her heavy lids and grimaced, wanting to swear. “Just fly off, if you don't mind. I'm tired. May yet get a full night's sleep so's I can wake up tomorrow, tired still, 'n go through it all over again. Fly off. Git.” She slid into the tattered sleeping bag. By the careful way Bea moved, Eris could see where the sprains failed to heal, where blood strained to flow, and where the cancer started to eat away.

The lantern switched off soundlessly. The ground clacked with the idle movements of bird and lion claws scratching the concrete. Eris chewed her lip and Bea wrapped her arms around herself and hoped everything outside her sleeping bag would disappear.

“What if,” asked the not-demon, the not-angel, “tomorrow wasn't the same?”

Bea's scoff escalated into a bitter laugh. “Wouldn't that be a damned miracle.”

Eris slid a black claw over the rings of her eagle arm.

“Maybe I could do something,” Eris's voice tread on uncertain flooring “Besides talking. I don't know about pains or bones, but I can do something about tomorrow. The rest is up to you.”

“And look at what a great job I've done.” The sleeping rag crinkled. “No point in wasting good help. Look here, you're probably not a bad girl, even if you're imaginary, but just leave me alone. Your well-meaning's just gonna bother my dreaming. Unless you're a genie-”

“I'm not,” Eris shook her head. “I'm...definitely not...”

“More's the shame, but I probably would've wasted three wishes anyhow. Don't go teasing people with hope, alright?”

“I'm not talking about hope. That's...that's inside, and I can't change the inside,” Eris put a paw over her gray-furred chest and thumped it. “But the other things,” her black lips lifted, “I can change the cards on the table. Shuffle the game around. No guarantees, but maybe you'd get a better hand,” Eris leaned towards the woman laying in the bag.

“Hm. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Eris said and smiled, showing the front row of pointed teeth. “Sometimes all you need is a bit of maybe.”

“Maybes are dangerous,” Bea replied, not facing her.

Eris's pupils stretched and studied the lines of Bea's Maybes, Possiblies, Probablies, Might-have-beens, and If-Onlies. She wanted to snip them, tie them around in wild, rubbery knots. She needed to stretch, yank, and pluck until the avenues of her life were unrecognizable. “Risks and rewards. A Maybe could be anything. Anything. Good or bad, or something wild.” Her snout crept to the edge of the sleeping bag and her claws spread over the floor. Her breath drifted over the insulated fabric.

“Say the word,” Eris whispered, “and I can trash your tomorrow. Trash it. Instead of your tomorrow, you could get anything. You could end up someplace nice, wonderful even, with things in your pocket you've never dreamed of having. Or not. At no cost to you, hold onto your soul and all, don't worry, I'm not after that. But you have to accept the chances of Maybe, for better or worse.”

Bea's hands shook, “And why would I take that risk?”

Eris slid back and swung her arms around the warehouse. The lights stuttered on long enough for anyone to wish they'd turn off. Bea could see the dirt on the floor, cobwebs colonizing ceiling corners, weathered edges of lumber, oily pieces of machinery, and grime-thickened windows that hated the sun. Worst of all she could see Eris, fully lit and looking wicked in the trick she played. The sight and heavy air choked her throat.

“Why wouldn't you?” Eris insisted.

“You're a cruel thing, know that?”

Eris cocked her head and stilled. The woman intrigued and aggravated her. Doesn't she get it, Eris thought. “The world is up for grabs and I'm giving you a boost to run off with everything that could be carried.”

She looked around. “This place is terrible, and worst of all, a sure-thing as far as you're concerned.” Her neck shivered. “Down to the foundation, it's stale and holds nothing, nothing, worth sticking around for. All it offers is stagnation and artificial indifference,” her lips riled, the words tasted foul in her mouth. “Now that's cruelty,” Eris let her disgust spit free. “I want to howl and pull this entire building down.” She squeezed her claws. “This is complete inertia, and it is disgusting.”

“You think I don't know that?” Bea countered, sitting up. “Do I wish tomorrow could be better? Every day, God, every day, but don't you act like some blessed savior.”

Eris coiled. “Fine. Fair enough, I'm not a savior, but I'm giving you a chance to save yourself.”

“I never asked for it.”

“No,” Eris said, stiff. “You did not.”

The two remained quiet. Bea seethed with confusion and anger. Confusion at this thing who barged into her life and asked to turn it all around into who-knows-what, and anger that she hoped her life could be better, despite knowing better. Eris, meanwhile, seethed with confusion and uncertainty, even though she was in love with uncertainties.

“Why are you doing this,” Bea asked. Her spine told her to run for the door or break through the wall. The thing had long, powerful looking legs. She'd easily snatch her and rip her to shreds more easily than that. But her bright yellow eyes had a different kind of hunger, one that humans never knew.

The beast thought for a moment and came across a thought she liked. “Call me a breaker of promises. Disruption's baby girl. Your life, as it is, has a promise, and I'll tell you what that is. You can believe me or don't.”

Eris studied something invisible floating over Bea's head. “You will be miserable tomorrow,” she stated. Her head moved to the left and her pupils darted as if studying the flight path of mosquitoes. “And the day after, and the day after that." Her eyes flashed and focused on Bea. "Would you like an exact number?”

“Stop talking.”

“It's not a big number, exactly.”

“I said be quiet.”

“Whatever leads to an informed decision.”

“Shut up,” Bea spat. Her sharp voice bounced around the metal support struts. “Shut the hell up, I don't want to hear any sick numbers or predictions. The hell is wrong with you, telling me what I already know and try every day to forget? Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“I can read your palm, if you'd like.”

Bea grabbed the lantern and hurled it at the intruder.

Eris caught the light in midair and let it rattle to the ground. Bea's chest swelled underneath her clothing. She wiped her eyes.

“Damn you,” Bea hissed in the dark. “Damn you, I only wanted a place to sleep.”

“Don't blame me, blame the wind that brought me here.”

“Then damn the wind, damn you, and damn me being fool enough to say yes. Get me out of this place, for God's sake, if only to get away from you.”

Eris grinned and her teeth seemed coated in the false-glow of black light. “Of course.”

“Wait 'til I'm asleep,” Bea said in a dead-even voice. “Then do whatever you're gonna do.”

Eris nodded once. The woman turned her back to the thing and found the sleeping bag couldn't hide her as deep as she wished.

It took a long time until Bea's breathing deepened and steadied. Eris traced the rotten life lines surrounding the woman. She'd reshape them without mercy until she could not reliably say what would happen to Bea. Eris placed her paw on Bea's sleeping shoulder and whispered into her ear, “Best of luck to you.”

The air rushed and kicked up a dust whirl, leaving Eris alone in the warehouse. She slipped outside without screaming or tearing down the support beams. Eris wanted nothing more to do with the place that stood as an insult to forward momentum. Stale dirt clung to her fur and something else clung to her conscience and Eris feared she may never be rid of either.

She hopped the clinking fence and stood on the side of the road. For some errant reason she wondered when the next bus would arrive. Eris's laughter fell off like a leaf.

“What did I just do?” She asked the roadside. Never before had she affected a life in so direct a fashion. That was more than switching out junk in back-pockets, or errant texts sent to an old girlfriend, or tagging along to an old ice cream shop.

Eris bit her lip and clenched at the dirt she stood on. No. For Bea, Eris had reached into the aether where time and fate lived and told it to fuck off.

Although she couldn't say where Bea would ultimately end up. Eris could not say if she just cursed or blessed the woman, but now her life would be different, and different was its own avail.

The wind blew and tumbled her hair away from her face. Eris looked towards the distant clusters of buildings and lighted towers of the city. The shimmering wires and cables of lives, human or otherwise, netted and webbed through the sky and beyond. Beads of potential and promises rolled in grooves set by unseen variables and the near-unstoppable momentum of millions of people.

Her hands itched. She looked down, expecting to see one thing, but saw nails, fur, and scales instead. Her chest rumbled, nose quivered, and she felt as if melted gold poured all down her body. Curving antlers caught the moonlight and hummed. She cracked her knuckles and thought she saw rails floating over the city shiver.

Eris smiled.

Author's Notes:

One million years later.

"Live, Live, Live"

On the other side of the city, you walked down a street, hands in pocket and eyes looking towards every sudden flutter or cry of excitement, hoping Erica may be behind it. Not one strange thing happened, and you hated that the fact unnerved you.

You feared she may have skipped out of town and into a different country when a charge in the air lifted the hairs on the back of your head and a few lights twinkled. You knew all kinds of hell was primed to flood the city and no one had a life vest.

The block exploded with the din of car alarms and electricity dying and coming back. Not make a scene, you thought. You spent the entire evening in a half-controlled panic, wondering where she went, what she was doing, what she would do. What could she do?

The ground shook.

What could you do?

People shouted up and down the street. A lady across the road dialed number after number on her phone, trying to make sure her mom was safe. A man clamped onto a light pole and looked set to hang on until morning. Cars slammed their brakes.

The power died with the groan of a shot elephant.

Someone cussed. Car horns screamed in unearthly code while their engines turned over and over and over. Electricity surged through the block and several bulbs popped. Glass peppered the man hugging the pole. He still didn't let go.

You looked to the air, almost hoping to see her, praying to God you wouldn't see any planes overhead.

Nothing but stars in the sky. That felt like good news.

Thick clouds bubbled over the city and lightning lurked behind the gray masses. The air rumbled with the clash of colossal metal drums.

You grimaced and swept your head down so fast your neck cracked. The air itself could catch fire if someone snapped their fingers. Maybe it would, if she wanted that. We kindly ask all citizens to refrain from using matches or lighters for the duration of the crises.

None of this was right. The breaths zipping through your nose showed no sign of slowing. Fear planted your feet to the ground, but a piece of glass in your chest urged you to move. You needed to find Erica and grab a reign to keep the situation from worsening. Tell her to stop, if she'd listen. If anything of Erica still lived inside that...whatever it was. At the very least you could distract her, even if she wouldn't pay much attention.

It dawned that you were the only person in this city who knew her name.

Why did you let her run off alone?

You took a step, although you didn't know where to go. Lightning flickered on skyscraper antennae and the glass panes of buildings shimmered as if brushed with thick soap.

Running seemed like the only sensible thing to do, so you ran. You followed the cries, the heavy clash of car accidents and booms of thunder. Deeper and deeper into the maelstrom of raucous violence.

It started off as a normal, if vicious thunderstorm. But things escalated. The sky darkened, it was already night, but the air hanging between buildings thickened and dampened the glow of what few lights held on in the flailing power grid.

Lightning fell from the sky and didn't take the path of least resistance. It shocked the street, jumped and skipped on sidewalks and window ledges with the reckless joy of children playing. You ran for long minutes, concentrating only on the next step. Searching for a safe path was futile, because safety applied nowhere.

The wind howled. Dirt clouds billowed over rooftops and litter smacked your hair. You spat dust and slapped away a Sprite bottle before it hit your face. By this time you were the only idiot still in the road. Most people hid indoors or inside their cars.

Any moment the wind would pick up and blow you further than you could run. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. It might blow you somewhere nice. A beach, or cozy mountain cabin where calm and quiet was the rule and stocked with hot chocolate and warm fur rugs laid out in front of a fireplace

Considering what you saw, you'd rather be anywhere else in the world. You saw things. Bad things. The lightning turned unnatural. Thorny light hit the ground and sides of buildings, sometimes taking chunks away or leaving things behind. Trees, spouts of water, an explosion of birds, or a host of other unsettling oddities

The snow-white glares hung in the air and you shielded your eyes, but spots floated in your vision.

A car sat on the roadside. A man was inside it, but he wanted more than a few inches of metal and upholstery between his head and the malignant clouds above. He elbowed the driver's door opened and he looked to the nearest building's entry with the hysteria of a man about to make a prison break.

The man sprinted from the car and towards the entry. You saw the lightning coming from a distance away. It arced slow and long, twisting and shooting greedy fingers forward. The bolt touched him and he disappeared, leaving behind not so much as a shoe or soot mark. He didn't see it coming for him.

Chills, bugs, and chattering teeth brought you to a full halt while the rest of the storm raged around you.

How many people were struck and plucked from the ground faster than they could blink? Where did she send them, and how would they look when they arrived?

The danger of running felt keen as more threads of white-hot streaks fell over the skyline. Thunder shattered the pipe-fantasy of turning around and walking away. At the rate of things, the city would be emptied by morning.

But hell if you wanted to be out in the open. You dove into the car the panicked fool left open. Its keys rested in the ignition and you breathed thanks and half-mad laughter. You had a not entirely unrealistic expectation of seeing an alligator crawl out of the hood when turning the key, but the car started as normal.

Garbled chatter and grated waves poured out of the radio. Angry, excited, howls of the mad. No wonder the guy tried to run. You twisted the dial to no effect and tore the faceplate off. The speakers reduced to static.

Your forehead thumped on the steering wheel to think. Sickness crept up your throat.

Fight it down. Keep it down. Take the car out of park. Drive. Fast.

But where?

Wherever Erica is. But where would Erica be? Dancing on the rooftops with an umbrella? Running down the street and tossing people into the sky?

You looked up again. The green plated tower in the medical district shone through the dirt devils and pitch-black clouds. No muddled crackles of lights lurked inside the clouds there. In fact, there were no clouds hanging over the building.

You stepped on the gas.

Having the dirt out of your eyes felt good, but you didn't feel much safer inside the vehicle. Things sprouted up from the concrete. Slabs of rock or thick plants that you swerved around. Lightning continued to spear the ground near and far. You should've buckled up.

The tower grew closer. Cars still cluttered the roads, some speeding, some not. Night time traffic was the only saving grace the streets had. You couldn't imagine the carnage if Erica decided to loose herself during the day. The light of fires raged in spurts on the horizon and cast angry orange strips beneath the blackened sky canopy. Fire trucks, police cruisers, and ambulances dashed through intersections, flooding the sides of building with washes of blue, red, and white.

Street lights pulsed in desperate Morse code. Chunks of old memories weaved you down curves and over bridges. Windows from buildings blinked awake and died down. Far away the palpitations of the city's lights gave the impression of some great thing in the spasm of death or throes of birth.

The ground shook in an upheaval of power, electric or otherwise. The front of the car lifted as if tempted by a magnet and slammed to the ground, almost making you knock your teeth out on the steering wheel.

You grunted and fought for control as the wheels swerved upon contact. You barely regained control when you felt gravity lessen and lift the car once more. Other cars on the road lifted at timid angles like an animal inspecting a new toy. Trees raised their branches upwards, pleading. Leaves undulated, giving praise to whoever stirred the wind.

Skin tightened on your fingers and the back of your hand. The car and your stomach raised off the ground. Visibility more than five feet out the window was hopeless, even with the floodlights on. You only saw a towering, green phantom.

A bolt hit a spit's distance in front of your path and left a forty foot bus rocking on its suspension.

You swore, and swung the car in a heavy curve around the vehicle, fighting off the grim urge to look through the windows to see if anyone was inside.

You sped to get far, far away from that bus and not caring for the risk of colliding into a pole or another vehicle. Almost there. You didn't know what to do when you found her, but she couldn't continue like this.

Shafts of lightning hit a building and bounced between windows until dissolving into a shower of sparks that sprayed over your car. The engine kicked off. You pressed the brakes and fought the steering wheel as the car skidded over the concrete until it ran over a sidewalk bump and halted on a patch of grass.

You knocked the side of your head on the window, but otherwise felt unhurt. You cussed and swore and your knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel on the now-dead car.

At least you were closer than when you started. You dug through the glove box and found a pair of sunglasses. You pulled your shirt over your nose, took a deep breath, and opened the door. You checked the sky for lightning before stepping out.

The wind outside the car roared. Dirt chipped your arms and you thought of desert storms that blew sand hard enough to clean the muscle off bones. You pressed the glasses against your face to keep the worst particles out of your eyes, and saw the glow of the tower. You fought for one step. You fought for another.

Your body hunched low and your walk slackened to a heavy lurch. The darkness was only relieved by the beacon of green and threats of lightning. Heavy gales whipped your body and shoved you around. For every step you took forward, you took five to the side.

You fell. The wind blew you a yard by the time you hit the ground and rolled you over even more like a kicked dog. The sunglasses flew off and you inhaled a mouthful of dust. Your eyes stung, but wiping only stung them more. The tower still shown through bleary eyes. Hand over hand, you crawled.

You coughed and more dirt plugged your throat. You pulled your shirt over your mouth, but the wind blew it away and thunked you again for trying.

No visibility remained between the overcast sky and wind that seemed to carry nothing but smoke, and tears into your eyes. All you could do was move, but you couldn't tell if you were going forward.

You moved one foot. Two feet. Three. You wanted to sleep and never wake up. Four.

The wind stopped.

Dust stopped scratching your skin. Your ears rang against the pindrop silence. You rolled onto your back and hacked everything out of your torso and stared red-eyed at the clear night sky over head. You leaned on a shaky arm and looked at the impenetrable wall of swirling dark air you crawled away from.

You turned around and saw the dominating green tower, surrounded by its herd of hospital buildings. Quiet was the last place this area should be, especially now. A chill settled over your shoulders.

Leaves drifted across the roads. You stood upright and placed a nervous foot on the sidewalk. Sky walks passed overhead as you moved deeper into the storm's quiet eye. The lights at intersections changed normally. Electricity flowed uninterrupted.

You reached an intersection and read a sign decorated with arrows. Left, medical park. Right, cancer center. North, children's hospital, and so on. No telling where she'd hole up. Steps tapped one by one as you moved in a slow circle to consider your options.

A quiet hum hid beneath the silence and you could hear its whispers a little better from the park's direction. You headed left.

Trimmed hedges and flowers wafted on the edges of walkways. The strangest sensation of sleep walking overcame your body as you traversed a paved path. Each consecutive step felt lighter and lighter, as if you'd float away if you didn't step gingerly.

The path curved around manicured trees and mushroom lights spreading soft light over the ground. Statues with unreadable plaques rested by wooden benches with spiraling iron arm-rests. The humming became clearer. It carried no recognizable tune or pattern, but its clean, melodic sweeps soothed your ears.

The park opened up into a wide courtyard framed by spiraling lattice work crawling up adjacent buildings. The sidewalk swerved through the center in a lazy fashion, and tall, handsome black lanterns glowed in the night. To your eyes, the lights filtered through space as if underwater instead of air.

Erica laid in the middle of the courtyard. Her white mane flowed over the grass like waves frozen in time. Her wings spread out lazily, and her tail curved on the grass like a kite string the wind left behind. Silver moonlight teased the tips of her fur.

Her arms drifted in the air, conducting an unseen and sleepy orchestra. You looked up and saw the towers on all sides rising high into the air, vanishing into the star filled sky.

At your final step, her fingers stilled. Her arms lowered to lift her upper body from the ground. She twisted her lengthy torso and the river of her hair flowed against gravity. The tips of her wings traced over the grass, deep blue in the night. She turned her graceful neck towards you and her golden eyes lit.

Erica said your name and her smile gave off enough warmth to melt snow.

You wanted to shout at her. Shake her until she stopped and the world outside made sense, or at least went back to normal.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I'm feeling better than ever,” she said. “I hoped you'd show up.” She studied your irritated eyes, storm-raggled hair, and scratches left behind by razor winds. “Someone sure looks like hell. What were you doing all day? Seems fun.”

“What was- What I was doing,” you pointed behind you, “was running for my life and driving like a jackass in a Roland Emmerich movie.”

Erica tilted her head. “But you don't have a car.”

“I had to take one,” you said.

Her eyes widened and she held a paw in front of her mouth. “You stole a car? Not funnin' me? Never figured you'd have the stuff for that.”

“Doesn't count as stealing because the driver was abducted by lightning while running away from whatever,” you shook your head, “crazy thing getting you off right now.” You closed the distance between yourselves. “Erica, please-”

“That is not my name.” Her visage turned cool.

“Eris,” you said, breathing slow and heavy. “I'm sorry, about earlier. Sorry,” your eyes flickered, racing to think of something to say, anything, to convince her to back off. “But I need to know what you're hoping to do here. People are getting hurt all over, the wind almost blew me to the damn coast. It looks like the rapture, and no one, no one except you can explain why so please, I'm begging you, tell me why. Eris, what are you doing?”

She shifted her legs beneath her and steadied her upper body on long arms. Her eyes narrowed and her antlers lingered prominently. “Could be I'm teaching them a lesson.”

You shook your head and said, “Don't push any bull.”

A little smile tugged the corner of her lip. “You caught me. Mostly. I never did have the patience for teaching, but I'm...I'll put it this way,” she rolled her eyes around and blew air.

“This city,” Eris said, “and the people in it -all of them, left an ice cream shop with a wonderful view to rot and become cockroach breeding central. Does anyone know how beautiful that little parlor used to be? How beautiful it could still be?” She gazed fondly at you. “How beautiful, I know, only by putting two lost and confused souls in the top room after pulling the boards off the windows?”

“You're mad because of an abandoned room?”

Her fingers curled and she looked far into your eyes. “You're the only person left in this city who cared, maybe out of the whole world. That...it's...a little bitter. A little sweet. Dorky, but still. I'm not mad about that, no. Never will be.” She licked her lips.

“I'm mad because people forget about potential,” she whispered and settled back.

“Potential?”

Eris nodded. “How many dark, locked up rooms hide potential? Forgotten places that no one thinks about. Who knows what's hiding -life, excitement, danger, love. So many unknowns. It's all potential, just hold a spark to it and watch the fires blaze.” Her gaze drifted through you.

“I can see it, you know.” Her fingers thrummed the air in front of her. “Looks like...wires and threads and cables and rope and nooses running all over the place, but tied down by fears and doubts.”

Your mind colored in the invisible threads she traced in mid-air. “So to you, all this potential, it's tangled? And you want to untie it?”

She nodded, but you couldn't tell if you understood her point, or if she only humored your attempts.

“Is that what you were trying to do before? Playing the tricks in the streets and in the bar, you know. Freeing up potential.”

“Maybe. Partly. Seems like it. It felt nice, looked nice. Lots of fun, either way.” Her gray eyelids closed. “But I'm finished with tricks,” she said, tired.

Bea's face entered her mind. She already changed the life of one woman. Why stop at one? “The outside stinks with discontent and half-thought wishes of people who want something different out of their lives, even if they won't admit it to anyone else or themselves. I'm wondering how I didn't choke on all the smog clogging the atmosphere.”

Her fingers clutched the grass, “Well, I know why. I was incomplete in body and mind. But I'm whole now.” Only her shiny lips moved. “Whole. I can fix a few things wrong with the world.”

“And what,” you winced inwardly at the trepidation in your voice, “do you think is wrong with the world?”

Her stare could spear bodies. She smelled something off in your tone. “A lot of things are wrong. Too many to list.” She looked you down from top to bottom. “Bu-u-u-t, let me start by saying what's wrong with you.”

You put your hands in your pockets and raised your chin. You harbored no desire to see where her logic would carry both of you. Unfortunately, no other ideas to keep her occupied arose. “Tell me then. You're the social expert here, right? Illuminate me, please, make sense of my life. Tell me what's wrong with it. I have a few ideas of my own, but I can't seem to trust myself recently -haven't made a lot of good decisions these past few days.”

Her eyebrows tilted at the brunt of your words, then the high-beams of her eyes flashed. “You woke up,” she began slowly, “a handful of days ago, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell you've ever done wrong.” She slithered near. “You thought, for a long time, if getting out of bed was worth it because so many things in life went to shit and you couldn't imagine which direction it'd keep rolling down hill.”

“Felt like you were being jerked in circles on a broken merry-go-round, but the music's broke and that fake horse with the chipped paint job you're strapped too? That's your life and odds are that's gonna keep being your life, and that terrified you. Horrified. A living nightmare.”

Her shoulders shook as her voice spewed. “You watched the sun draw shadows over the walls and thought 'Where did it go wrong? I didn't break the rules, yet I'm afraid to get out of bed to slough off and live a life I don't want anymore. Get me a garbage can so I can throw it away.'”

You held her gaze and kept your back straight instead of slamming your forehead against her snout.

A heavy drone echoed inside her horns.

“The worst part? The absolute worst thing about that, that makes me want to tear my hair out? You wanna know?” Her lower lip drew down and her teeth did not touch. “The worst part is you lost count of how many mornings you spent thinking that. Actually, there's a part worse than that -you're not the only one.”

She drew a heavy paw through her hair, lost in wretched thoughts. “I can see the discord between people's hearts and the lives they're saddled with. It's amazing that anyone can wake up and trudge through the tragedy weighing this planet down, not knowing if things will get better. Not knowing if they even can get better. It's white noise at this point. Static. Numbing the ears and bound to drive us all deaf before we die.”

Her eyes drifted to the grass and her body quieted.

You spoke. “Does knowing that hurt you so much that this is all necessary? Is it that bad, for you?”

She shrugged. “It's an out-there kind of pain, or, not even out there. Inside. Deep, deep inside, and not everyone can fix it because sometimes they don't know anything needs to be fixed, or they're paralyzed, frozen, glued into what they've become.” The joints in her wings flexed. “Although I guess none of us get much say in what we become.”

“Even if they did,” you said, “there's better ways to change lives than storms and lightning. Eris, people are scared right now, right now, and hurting, at something tangible, at that raging thing going on outside. Ease up, put an end to this tonight.” You crouched before her. “Whatever you feel you have to do, this isn't the way to do it. The world can't change so fast, it'd crumble to pieces. Come on, girl. Don't tell me you want that,” you swallowed and added, “please.”

Her shoulders shook again. Erica's spine twisted back and her jaw snapped as she laughed. “Can't change fast? Can't?” She howled and beat her wings, like an agitated bird in a wire cage. Her golden eyes sparkled. “You think too small, guy. It's time to think big. No more little tricks, gentle nudges, or hallucinations I thought might make someone happy,” she sneered. “Those limits belonged to someone else.”

She stood on her rear legs and pulled up to her full height, a frightful cobra rising to her own song. Her long body swayed as she stepped back, her head slowly tilted towards the night sky.

Black nails clacked onto pavement. She flexed her fingers and popped her pronounced knuckles. “I told you before, Starman, the universe is a big place. Haven't you listened at all? Can't you see?”

You raised a hand to your ear as the wail from her antlers soared.

Her voice sounded far away, like she spoke across a vast chasm. Maybe she was, considering the fathomless distance between you and her, in body and state of mind.

“Things have to change. That's how it is. Chaos is the rule, not the exception. It's either rot or live, live, live, because you have no idea how far behind we all are. And there's so much living to do, if we wanna catch up.”

She pirouetted into the air, lifted by a gust made only for her. The iron lanterns plucked out of the dirt. Roots snapped and clumps of grass hung from their bases. Wires tethered them to the ground like ponderous balloons. Their squared, glowing heads bobbed like lazy fireflies and Eris's red fur shimmered. Her ankles touched and scaled tail spiraled around her. Massive wings spread.

Her arms raised over her head in a heavy arc as if weights dangled from her wrists. Her hands clapped. All the other lights blew out, leaving only the halo of lanterns with her in the center.

“Let me show you.”

She clapped again. The lanterns winked off.

Her antler's siren reached a crescendo. An unseen hand pulled the thunderous curtain away from the city.

She clapped a third time and the sky opened.

Black ink rippled. The echoes called light from far away, further than any telescope ever peeked. The sky glimmered as light, eons-old, sped towards the earth, moving in a violent diorama. Stars exploded, were born, died, and replaced by something new altogether.

The sky became a swirl of light and colors never seen over the earth. Stars danced in configurations thought impossible. Cosmic clouds erupted in sprays of super nova. Things thundered. Things swam. Infinity beamed over head and your mind stalled trying to understand.

Witnessing the rush of motion stole a beat from your heart. Your fingers dug into the dirt because you feared falling off the world and endless a vast and ceaseless expanse. Your chest heaved. The air felt thin. Your eyes wanted to shut, but held open.

“Er...eri...”

“I know,” she whispered, smiling with unblinking eyes at the splashes and tides. “I never thought..”

Celestial clouds of emerald dust cascaded in a plane with no gravity.

You caught your breath in a trembling grip and asked her to stop. Her head snapped towards you and asked, “What?”

In as calm a voice that could be fought for, you begged her to stop, because you felt afraid.

“Afraid?” she said. “Afraid? That's all...” her feet trembled in the air. “All you ever are is afraid.” The panorama above shimmered. “That's not a trick,” she pointed overhead. “It's real. Don't think I can hide you from the universe, because we're stuck in it, and it won't play nice with you, so why should I?'

“Up to now,” she hit the ground and lanterns fell on the grass, one shattered its head on the sidewalk. “I've tried to show you the world. I've just shown you so much more than anyone could ever hope to see, right here,” she touched her collar bone, “with me. And you're,” her brows tightened, “scared. Scared.”

The living painting of the night sky fizzled. Black paper and white pinpoints slowly asserted themselves.

“Maybe that's why I'm going at this like a bitch,” she turned away from you and ran her talons through her hair. “Because you're all fucking scared, shivering in your shoes and waiting for someone to shove you out the door. If that someone's gonna be me, then let it. Complacency, that's what it is.” she growled and stomped towards you on all fours, antlers swaying heavily. “But complacency's not going to work anymore, it never worked.”

You moved your hands from the grass to your mouth and heaved. Your eyes bounced between Eris and the normalizing stars in the sky, wondering which pricks of light frightened you more. She read the look in your face.

Her head bowed and mouth drew tight. “I tried, okay? I held your hand and asked you to follow me, but that didn't work. You're too tangled, weighed down by a boulder made up of all the shit that happened in your life that you couldn't prevent. It's locked you in. Dammit, I'm breaking that lock, understand? And not just yours, all the locks, the ones people made for themselves and others.”

You held a palm up. “Please, I'm trying to wrap my head around this, I swear, but yo-”

“Uncertainty. That's what I'm talking about. A world without life lines or safety nets. No more taken-for-granteds or set-in-stones, that's what I'm after, but no one else can chase it, not as fast as I can run. So I will drag you with me if I need to, get that?”

She roared loud enough for the entire city to hear. “I will drag,” she seethed, “all of you.”

Her head swung.

“Screaming.”

You stared in stunned silence. A firm part of you refused to believe this beast was the same girl who skipped across the streets and kissed you on a bed only one night ago.

“Screaming,” you said. “You want screaming. And panics, right? Riots? Danger and what else? Do, do you want people to wake up and count it as a blessing if the sun's the right color? If they're still in the same hemisphere as the day before? On the same planet, even?”

She grinned.

“What are you?”

She cackled and her sunset-yellow eyes glinted. “So obsessed with labels. Want me to get you a fat red marker so you can scribble all over my forehead? I am not a dragon, not a genie, or witch, or savior, or anything like that. I am here,” she said, “to ruin your life. What happens after that is all on you.”

“Ruin,” you said, thinking about the Starcrunch you shared with her. “Ruin. All this time, you just wanted to turn the world upside down and smash the windows.”

The points of her teeth shined when she smiled. “Just a bit. Place is a mess anyways. Peace-of-mind will mean more when it's all in pieces.” She cocked her head. “Something wrong? Mad 'cus I'm not prettying things up? Regret leaving your room, jumping on a bus and talking to a black girl sitting all alone?” She pursed her lips and snorted. “What were you're intentions then? How about now?”

“I intend to find out if there's anything left of that girl I met” You couldn't gather the strength to yell. Misery knotted your organs.

“Oh,” she pulled her wings close. “Yeah. Hah. Wasn't she just the best? Hot little number, huh?”

Your face held still. She was stabbing for a rise and you'd be damned if you'd give her the satisfaction.

“Maybe that's your issue. Didn't even get to finish screwing her before I came and crashed the party, but hey, I wrapped it up pretty nice. Should've came with a bow,” her voice shook. She jolted forward and stopped a hair's width away from you. Her jaws hovered over your brow and nose. You saw the glisten of her gums and enamel on her teeth. Humid breath blew your hair and your spine crawled.

“Want to have a go?” She mouthed over you. “Come on, no one's looking.” Her tongue twisted. “Think think of all the ways I could ruin that lovely little body of yours.” A heavy paw clenched the inside of your thigh and you stumbled backwards.

“No, no, no,” she said, catching and pulling you close with a wing. “Wrong way, boy toy.” Your head turned away from her teeth and your eyes closed.

Her paw jumped upwards and squeezed. You bit your lip and tried to pull her arm away, but the steel-wired muscles beneath her skin was all that needed to be said about her strength.

“Not interested?” Her paw clenched again. Nails pricked sensitive flesh and you groaned. “That's right, because you don't like me. You prefer the other chick. Maybe I can meet you half-way.” Her voice dripped honey and poison.

You opened a horrified eye.

Her snout receded with the snap of bone. Fur fell away like patches of mange. The lines of a former skull shifted underneath, but her eyes did not change and her teeth remained pointed. Flesh boiled and your determination snapped.

“For God's sake,” you closed your eyes, recoiling. “Erica, don-”

The twisting skin and muscles burst outwards. Her jaw unhinged and a hiss from the core of the earth echoed from her impossible throat. Rows and rows of teeth unfurled from her gums, each one a different length, each one from a different animal.

“Don't call me that!” She roared in a cascade of bellows, screeches, and howls that could never be mistaken for an actual voice. “That's not my name.” She hurled you to the ground and the back of your head knocked against the dirt.

In a rage, she pounced and gripped your shoulders. “I keep telling you,” beastly arms slithered down and grabbed your wrists, your forearms, wrapped around your neck. “Are you deaf? Is your brain damaged?”

One of your hands locked around the claw at your neck. Another pulled the fur on her chest.

Wings jutted out from her spine and twitched as if about to burst from her insides. “My name is Eris,” eyes sprouted on her face, all of them red, all of them hateful. Spittle sprayed over your brow. “Eris, not Erica! Eris! My name is Eris! My name is Eri-”

She saw the bulge of your jaw. The vein on your temples. She saw the tears on your flushed face. She saw her reflection in your eyes, and all the fear and confusion and sadness being wrung from you like cheap pulp.

“You're...” she loosed her claw's grip. You kicked away from her, coughing and gasping for breath, shivering on the ground and scared to touch the deep red marks around your throat.

“No...oh.” Limbs slithered back into her body. She swayed as extra wings folded into nothingness, muttering to herself and to you. “I'm....you're...” her yellow eyes traced over the grass, saw the insects and the dirt and moisture and you writhing and the electrical wires and you're hurting and she wanted to throw up and glowing cables and, “You're afraid of me.”

She swallowed her teeth and numerous eyes blinked closed and vanished. “Don't tell me....oh.” She wiped damp hair way from her face. “Did I just- No, no no. Not like that, not you. Come on, guy, I...” Eris fumbled as if her horns became too heavy.

You coughed and looked at her through bleary eyes. The sight of you made her voice crack.

“I...I need to go,” she said.

“Er...” you coughed. “Eri-”

She couldn't look at you. Her wings opened and covered her face and body. Her yellow eyes shone between gaps in feathers. “I need to go think,” she rasped.

You gulped and stood on a weak leg, raising a hand out. It looked like two from your blurred vision. “Wait, Er...i..” you jerked forward.

“I'm sorry,” she shook her head and stepped back.

Don't let her run away. That's all you could think. You let her go once today and the price was too terrible to pay a second time. Your body hurt. Your legs hurt, chest burned and you wanted to roll into a ditch to die in peace, but you did not want her to be alone. She scared the shit out of you, but you did not want her to leave. “Wait,” went your damaged voice.

Her tail whipped and she bounded down the pathway over glass shards and flickering lanterns. For the second time that night, you ran. Despite all the pains and voices in your head telling you to lie down and never move again, you ran.

She moved fast. Unsurprising. The girl was packing four more limbs than you, and all powered by an unearthly force you couldn't name. Her feet padded over concrete and glass. The long, painterly brush of her tail slid through the air. Yet you kept up with her.

Maybe you caught a second wind blown in from hell itself, or maybe the racked state of her mind meddled with the space and speed between her point A and your B, but she stayed in sight. Slips of her voice fell behind her, and she sounded afraid, angry, and altogether uncertain. If you saw her eyes, the fur around them would not be dry.

But she knew she wanted to get away from you. You wanted to be close to her. Two needs on far ends of a volatile spectrum that made you both do countless, foolish things.

You chased her beneath a metal arch wreathed with vines. The world around you fell away like cutouts and stage props. Hidden cogs and pulleys slid the buildings away, pulled the streetlights to the side, rolled the cars off and set up another stage.

Sidewalk turned into tiled floor. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead and people shouted in a language you didn't know and were shoved aside as Eris or Erica or it doesn't matter anymore charged through. A subway train thundered off to the right.

She clattered up a staircase tunnel. You hopped the steps three at a time and your legs frothed at the flood of lactic acid burning your bones. Trees and sunlight sprung as you burst from the tunnel and your shoes sprinted over foliage and untouched flowers.

Forest light made by thousands of intersecting branches and their endless network of leaves cast strips and speckles of light over her fleeing body. For the first time she was inside an element approaching natural. Your eyes marveled as if her every aspect of motion was filmed with a high-speed camera. Thick hair spun from snow and mercury streamed down her back. The joints in her legs swiveled and fired over the natural floor, kicking up the dense layer of twigs and ruffage in high sprays. The air felt cool. Birds cawed, hidden in branches.

The long arc of her neck turned and you saw black pupils widen inside the ruby set in her eye.

She bounded behind bark and brush, but you kept up, despite the harshness of your breath and stumbles in your step.

You passed between a pair of trees and sun-bleached rock echoed underneath. High mountains and ridges striped in deep, ancient colors of the earth made gestures to the sun. Hardy plants clung to the cracked ground.

Arid drafts hit you like punch. The rips inside your throat recoiled. Dust billowed behind her and left a trail of deep paw prints in the sand.

Is this how you'd spend the rest of your lives? Chasing each other in a sick magnetization? Alternating between fear and rage, yet unwilling to stop because something worse could emerge? Judging by the hammer beating over your heart, the rest of your life wouldn't be that long.

You called her name, you don't know which one. She yelled something back, but you couldn't understand.

She disappeared. Your heart jumped and, for a breath, everything looked lost. Then the ground ended under your feet and you fell. She plunged ahead of you.

Wind beat your ears and t-shirt. Your stomach banged on the nape of your neck, hurried to leave. Your legs flailed against nothing while she dropped like rainwater, wings tight around her body and their tips quivering. She dove, you plummeted.

If you touched her before going splat all over the ground, would that be good enough? All this pain, all this madness, tiredness, and desperate chasing, smothered cities, and arguing that seemed almost pointless in the face one grand stop, would it all be justified if only a fingertip could touch her?

Gravity and wind resistance straightened your body and the canyon's base rushed closer. She grew further and further away until she vanished in a splash in the river flowing through the basin.

Your arms crossed over your head and a corner of your mind wondered how many times you'd be tossed from a high place and into a body of water.

You hit the river's broken surface. The water muffled the wind screeching in your ear. Momentum from the fall pushed you deep, deeper, deeper still until your lungs burned and you feared you'd sink forever until your body was spat out of a public pool where the air made your skin shiver.

You landed on the smoothed concrete edge, gaping like a booted frog and spat out chlorine. You looked around, head reeling and eyes wide and deranged. The pool surface churned. A chain link fence clinked against a line of shrubs. Silver and orange light characteristic of the night lined its criss-crossing wire. A sign read “No Running.”

There was no sign of Erica. No sound of fleeing paws. No beating wings in the air, only the frantic beat beat beat inside your chest.

The off-white ground rocked left and right. You tripped trying to stand and almost fell back into the pool. Water dripped from your forehead and fingertips.

You lost her. Now she was out there again, alone. You lost her.

You took a deep breath and yelled her name. You yelled it over and over, and when no one answered, you just yelled.

Author's Notes:

I've been waiting to do that title drop forever.

"The End of the Line"

Tubes of neosporin and of cortisone cream clattered all over a pharmacy store counter in a town whose name you didn't know. The cashier stared at the bruises looping around your neck and forearms instead of your eyes that looked both vacant and harrowed. His mouth hung partway open, uncertain if he should ask, “will that be all,” or “what the hell?”.

You saved him some grief.

“Me and the girl,” you said, licking a busted lip. “We get a little wild.”

He nodded and made a quiet noise approximating, “yeah.”

You told him to hang on for a second and limped away. Pool water ran down your jeans and the rim of your t-shirt in weak rivulets. Wet footprints and droplets trailed your path around the store.

You tucked a cheap t-shirt beneath your arm. A cheap pair of jeans. Socks. God, you hated wet socks. You lumbered to the front and dropped the clothes on the counter. A jar of vaseline rattled to the floor.

That was all, you told the cashier. He rang the order up, hand trembling on the counter the whole time. He mumbled the total and you pulled out a wet wallet and paid with a wet debit card.

He handed over the bagged tubes and clothes. You walked to the door, paused, turned around and asked him where to find the nearest motel.

The cashier pointed and told you two blocks down, one block right. A half-heartfelt thanks escaped your mouth.

He told you to take it easy, yeah?

You managed three laughs before the throat pains turned them into coughs. The door slid open and you stepped into the night.

Looking up showed nothing strange. Only moonlight and stars. Normal, non-shifting stars against the black and vaguely purple backdrop of the greater night sky. A few twinkled suspiciously. Shivers unsettled your bones and you looked back down, afraid that the air may explode again and threaten to swallow you and the world whole.

The road passed underfoot. You walked between empty parking lots and quiet traffic lights that glowed their appropriate colors. Yet the nocturnal streets held more activity than normal. You passed several cars pulled onto the roadside. Their passengers stared upwards, eyes wide, some talked to each other, some talked to you, if only to conform they hadn't gone crazy on their own.

Did you see that, they asked. Radios chattered almost to each other. What happened? Aliens? Northern lights, atmospheric something-or-other, weird huh? Did a war start? Did you see? We'll be right back with more tunes after the hour. Did you see?

Yeah, you did see.

Forget the sky, you only wanted to see the inside of your eyelids. The gutter never looked more inviting. The banged up juncture of your body yearned to roll into the ditch and be done for the rest of the year, but the final fumes of willpower saw your steps through the last few yards to the motel and it's dimly lit sign.

Thirty minutes later you locked the door to a room with weathered carpets and a faded vine-print comforter on the bed. The ac unit huffed out air fresh as damp towels. You threw the bag of clothes onto the bed more stiff than two whiskey shots. You walked past a tv with free HBO, a writing desk knicked with scratches and burn marks from cigarettes, and straight to the bathroom.

At least no cockroaches scurried when you switched the light on. Yellow lines ran circles inside the tub. You turned on the water, hot as it could go. Steam billowed. You slumped to the tiled floor and leaned against the porcelain. The bag upended and spilled its contents all over the floor. A tube of cortisone cream rolled closest one to your hand, so you unscrewed the cap, held it over the rising water and squeezed until the bottle was empty. You dropped the tube to ground, grabbed a new one, and squeezed again.

When you finished, the tile was mostly hidden by caps and crumpled tubes. The water gurgled, now a medicinal stew whose ascetic fumes made you lightheaded.

One article at a time, your clothes slid off, wet and dry in patches. You rolled over the tub's rim and sent scalding water sopping onto the floor. Bare, abused skin hissed, but God, it felt good.

Your eyes closed and your head dipped beneath the milky brew. Up you came and inhaled intoxicating steam through your mouth. Eyes stared ahead. Dim light from the room outside creeped through the crack in the door. Dirt, chlorine, and antiseptics mixed with a miserable fatigue you never knew existed. Primal relief flowed through your body.

How long could you stay there? One night? One week? As long as the world minded the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the door, that's how long.

-

The room's blinds were snapped tight. The muddy red curtains weighted down with whatever you could find provided a second layer . You tied a sheet around the frame and stopped any natural light from intruding.

The room would've hosted near-complete darkness if you weren't hunched over on the edge of the bed with the tv remote in hand, flipping channels end over end, neither here or anywhere. Clipped voices spoke to a pair of ears that weren't paying much attention.

“Astronomers around the country are baffled as to last nights events. No one conclusive explanation has been settled upon-”

“Social media sites are experiencing massive slow downs as there's no shortage of people uploading videos and pictures of-”

“-are still being tallied. Right now the -the sheer number of reported missing persons are far beyond record levels.”

“Disturbing footage of the anomalous weather, viewer discretion is heavily advi-”

“'Must not break in this moment of crisis,' said the mayor in his earlier address, but still visibly shaken.”

“gripped in panic and fear-”

“What some believe is an unidentified creature-”

The tv blipped off at the press of your finger.

-

You put off leaving the room for food as long as you could. At least another day passed before you risked taking your fill of free donuts and coffee in the lobby and deciding to take your meal outside. The glazed sugar and bitter caffeine hurt going down, and you struggled against coughing it back up after two swallows. You fought to stomach enough calories to see you through another day.

You sipped from a paper cup.

Clouds ambled overhead. Nothing felt wrong, nothing looked wrong. But you were too smart to fall for that trick. An invisible knife hovered just over the small of your back, pricking your flesh enough to itch. Any moment now the earth could heave and the sky and ground would twist into each other and never separate again.

Cars passed back and forth on the road.

You tossed the styrofoam cup to the parking lot pavement and walked. Earlier you got directions to the town library from someone in the lobby. Every step sent aches through your ankles and shins, but for the moment you'd rather focus on the pain instead of the vague oblivion of your room.

Nothing happened during the walk. No car crashes or sudden thunderstorms. Every other step you looked over your shoulder. One step, two step, look behind you. No one there. You expected a shadow to sidle up behind you, draw sharp nails across your chest, slice open the skin and kiss the back of your neck while your intestines spilled on the ground and sweet nothings filled your ear.

You scratched the back of your neck and broke into a near jog once the library came into view.

You entered the library looking decidedly harried. The librarian, instead of saying, “Good afternoon,” or “How can I help you?” asked, “Do you need help?”

Oh lady, you have no idea, you thought.

You told her you were fine, thanks, then asked where to find the mythology section.

Several minutes later you commanded a table all to yourself, its surface covered in sprawling books. Opened pages showed humans, humans cowering, humans in the sky, humans with frightful heads, and frightful animals. Gods, goddesses, and beasts who stalked the shadows of legend for a long, long time.

You started with one name: Eris. That was easy enough. What you read provided no assurance. She was a goddess who wandered the world, unassuming, quiet and in the corners, but grew until her head rose above heaven and reveled in havoc. A breeder of violence, strife, and cruel joy.

Chaos. Strife. Trickery. These words popped up around the myths of the earth. You read of Huehuecoyotl, the ancient Aztec coyote with human limbs, ruler of music and mischief, and lustful beyond measure. Which was she closer to? Mohini, perhaps -the hindu sorceress of illusions and allure, and embodiment of Vishnu, destroyer of worlds? That was a fun pedigree. Maybe Arohirohi, mistress of mirages and heat. Was she Anansi, who played mortals, gods, and animals alike for suckers? Loki? Bugs Bunny?

Or all of them? None? Maybe she came before them all, from somewhere unkown and held a terrible league all to herself. Maybe they learned from her. Maybe they huddled close in the place where gods gathered, gaping in awe after she showed up from whatever nexus of confusion and power that birthed her to toy with the world.

The intersections and parallels of tricks, deceit, and otherworldly powers fit together like broken glass pieces. Your fingers followed the lines of the mosaic, haphazardly complete and hazardous to the touch. Every page read of warning, doom, and cruel lessons learned, if the fools were lucky. You thought about the pages and pictures spread before you.

You thought about the sight of her laughing and the sight of her crying.

You thought about the marks on your neck.

You thought and thought.

But you didn't know what to believe, other than what you've experienced first-hand.

One by one, you closed the books and stacked them neatly. You walked out the front door with a stone in your belly, and emptiness in your heart. On the manicured lawn of the library, you leaned against a tree and wondered what the hell you're supposed to do next.

In a slow, blank-faced way, you realized you couldn't remember the last time an idea of what to do became clear. Everything you've done the past few days have been off-the cuff impulses. Last-ditch efforts and bursts of desperation, panic, confusion, or horniness. You wouldn't feel more lost if you stood on a plank of wood in the middle of the sea.

Steady heartbeats followed steady heart beats. Drawn out blinks covered your eyes and you sighed.

Slowly, your knees bent and your back scraped against the tree bark Your legs kicked forward and you pulled out your phone. A finger moved on the smooth screen by unconscious routine.

The picture of your family filled the screen. You stared, mouth drawn tight.

“How's it going, guys?”

They stared outwards, smiling. White bands of sunshine reflected off the screen.

“Rich, your hair looks like shit, did I ever tell you that?”

He didn't respond, the prick.

“Mag, I didn't give you a fifty dollar gift card that year to blow on bad CDs. Oh well. At least you did better than Maddie. I never knew someone could tear through half a Benjamin's worth of skittles so fast. Damn sugar ant.”

Your sisters grinned, not having a single regret in their future spending choices.

“How's it going, Mom? Yeah,” you bobbed the phone in hand. “It's been a rough few months, but, you know. I'm doing alright. Not sure what time zone I'm in right now, but other than that...”

The wind blew through the leaves overhead. You waited until they quieted down.

“I met a girl a few days ago,” you told her. “She's, uh...different. Real outgoing. Doesn't drink. She has nice curly hair. Turned into an animal...or, monster, I'm not too sure. Some crazy thing. Is that normal? I know Mag and Mad can be total harpies now and again, but this is different. I think you'll like her, though.”

“Hm? Yeah, I'm not sure when I can swing by. Maybe sooner, maybe later. I miss you guys, crazy as you all are. But you're all fine right?” You waited. “Good, yeah, that's good.”

“Yes, yes, I know this shirt's crap, go screw a frog, Rich. It's a long story.”

The phone shifted from one hand to the other.

“I guess I'll go now. Talk to you later. Love you.”

You turned off the screen, set the phone in the grass and let your arms sink by your side.

Some minutes passed. Someone on the sidewalk passed. The false sense of normality lulled you. You considered walking back to the motel the second before the phone rang. You jumped because the damn thing hadn't made a peep these past several days.

The caller ID displayed no number or name. Only the words, “its me.”

You froze. The phone rang twice. Your hands refused to move. Voices in your head yelled left and right. Answer it, don't answer it, throw it into the street, run away screaming. What the hell are you doing? What does she want? Why is she calling you? She ran from you. Why would she call?

You pressed the ignore button mid-ring.

Warm blood filled your ears, pumped up there by your hammering heart.

The phone rang again. The ID read, “cmon guy.”

Once more, you decided not to answer, but didn't press the ignore button. You just wanted her to leave you alone.

The ringing halted. The missed call light blinked, almost an accusation. The shrill ring came one more time, but the ring held. The noise slowed down, jumped, and crinkled. Sleigh bells and whistles and beeps and whirrs built into the phone joined in. They mixed into one another, clipping and chirping into a coherent static.

Eris's voice came from the speakers, cobbled together from ringtones and electronic hums. “Hey,” said her voice, filtered through a digital throat. “I'm not...” a buzzing void held for a moment. “You don't have to say anything. I won't ask you to forgive me because I'm not stupid enough to apologize. Let's pretend we respect each other that much.”

Your hand closed and set against your chin.

“But I-” static washed back and forth, “We both have a lot of thinking to do. I'd like to see you again. Talk, or, yell at each other some more. Something. But yeah, whenever. I know you feel like shit right now, but you'll shoulder through it.”

“Probably sounds dumb, right? Coming from me. I mean it, though. So rest easy. I'll see you around, later, guy. I...um...y'know. I don't know. Stay safe.”

You smashed the phone against the tree trunk. The shiny screen ran in cracks and bleeding pixels. You slammed the phone one more time and took an unhealthy pleasure in the sharp crunch of plastic and glass. It spoke one more time.

“...alright, then.” The static died.

The librarian stared at you through the window, standing next to the tree, chest heaving with a broken phone in hand, and hoped very strongly you'd go away.

Hot blood flooded your cheeks and your fingers hurt clenching that phone.

Stay safe. You chased her around the world and got dumped at a municipal pool. Got thrown off a cliff. Two damned cliffs. Ran a gamut through a hurricane from hell. Damn near got stabbed, ran helter skelter through the streets while cars crashed left and right. She made you sing karaoke in public.

Stay safe.

She was the god damned devil.

You huffed at the broken phone and felt guilty for the outburst's effects. You shoved the broken thing inside your pocket, unwilling to abandon it, otherwise you'd lose the picture within.

With stormy determination, you stomped back into the library, much to the librarian's worry. You asked to use the computer, you needed to find the nearest bus station.

The librarian was all to happy to help, eager to get you as far away as possible.

-

One more night passed with you sleeping in the motel. Or trying to sleep. You lay awake, staring at the ceiling with the tv off and air conditioner droning by the window. You told yourself it was smarter to sleep on things rather than risk a rash decision, but really only staving off the inevitable for a few more hours. Besides, check out time already passed. At least you could shave and have a real shower.

Sunlight emerged through the drawn curtains and you checked out of the motel without fuss, but not before snagging several more donuts than etiquette allowed. It took several hours of small-town transit maneuvers to arrive a station capable of trucking you in great leaps.

You walked inside the terminal and realized many terminals looked the same.

The woman running the desk asked where you'd like to go. You grabbed an innocuous pamphlet and pretended to read because you didn't think this far.

Maybe you should find a boring town that had no risk of becoming bustling. Shack up there. Get a job and toil quietly, hoping the world won't go topsy turvy too fast. Pretend everything's fine for as long as you can stand to be fooled. No. The momentum of the past week compelled you to move forward. Maybe that could be your plan. The kitschy idea held an irrational appeal. You're a free man with no obligations or responsibilities, after all. Ride buses and trains to the far side of the country and not stop. Get a boat. Cross the ocean, then hustle to the other end of wherever you land. Just run. Run and weave and doge and pray nothing ever catches up to you because boy, you're in so deep over your head you can't even see the sun.

The woman tapped her fingers with strained patience.

You asked for the furthest destination offered and bought a ticket. You'd figure the rest out once the wheels stopped turning.

After she handed the ticket over, you stalked the front end of the terminal and passed several hours in the kind of monotony that invited second-guess.

This was a bad idea, forwards and backwards, you thought over and over. You had a plastic bag in hand and a great many worries in your head. Getting your life back on some kind of track required somewhat more than that, but bull-headed forwardness may get a little respectable mileage.

An unoccupied bench sat against the wall. You sat down and fingered your ticket.

The black and blue ink printed on thin cardboard read -Passenger. Standard. Bus Number C22-105. Departure Time: 4:00 P.M. Destination: some place you didn't really care about.

The ticket slid in your hand. Another lay beneath it, printed in red and yellow ink.

Passenger. Standard. Bus number ERI-000. Departure Time: 4:00 P.M. Destination: The End of the Line.

The trembling tips of your fingers put the ticket down on the empty space beside you. You stood, put your hands in your pocket, shut your eyes and exhaled very, very slowly. This is it. This is your life now. There's a force in the world that will no longer allow you to run away from your problems properly.

The station's speakers tolled. “Bus Number C22-105 now arriving at the terminal. Departure time is four o'clock. Thirty minutes until departure. Bus Number C22-105 leaving at four o'clock, thank you.”
Not a lot of time to consider your options.

You rolled the pamphlet up, stuck it in your mouth and bit down, almost finding its bitter wax coating refreshing.

Other passengers whose faces you didn't bother to discern headed through the loading gate.

Thoughts raced. You could get on good ol' C22-105 right now. Bite your tongue and march straight through the door and plant your rear on a lumpy seat. That'd be the end of things, right? Settled once and for all? She'd have to catch the meaning and leave you alone. You could squeeze out the rest of your life in peace.

The thought rattled hollow inside your head. How much time would pass before she instigated another bout of creative expression? You could only imagine the breed of insanity she'd whip up next time. Scratch that, you could not imagine it, and sent your stomach falling.

The twisted, strained pipes in your mind said you were partly to blame for the things that happened and you will be held accountable for whatever happened next. Guilt did its best to twist your elbow.

But there was another voice, one that echoed deeper and made you stare long and hard at the ticket.

You considered the horrible portrait made by the interlocked myths and omens at the library. But you couldn't believe she was a cobbled caricature mutated over millenia by people whispering stories to each other with only campfires or dim lamps to light the night.

She was more than a myth, or a boogie monster, or an indecipherable, possibly malignant deity to you. You knew her as a person, living and breathing. She wasn't Eris, or Huehuecoyotl, Mohini, Arohirohi, or any of those crazy things. Not to you. Her name was Erica.

She injured you and held up a match to the sky. She shared a starcrunch. She broke a lock. She shared a purple cow.

Despite everything, the pain in your body and anger in your chest, she was your friend, even if briefly.

You strode through the gate.

C22-105 waited, doors open.

ERI-000 pulled up behind it, to no announcement. The doors opened and no one exited. You saw no driver through the glass windows. No one else on the platform seemed to notice the phantom bus.

If you got on that bus, you expected no answers, no peace, or anything that made sense. The only promise the ticket in your hand held was the chance to see to her one more time.

You crumpled the ticket you bought. Heavy steps echoed as you entered ERI-000. The seats sat empty of restless passengers. No luggage, no driver. Otherwise the inside looked the same as any other bus. You sat down on a blue fabric seat midway down the aisle. No one else entered.

C22-105 drove off to somewhere sane. You chose otherwise. The doors to your bus closed with a soft sigh. The engine groaned and its heavy tires pushed against the concrete, beginning your journey to the end of the line and whatever lay beyond.

"Born Under the Right Stars"

The drive could've passed for normal, despite being driven by a ghostly force. The bus pulled onto busy highways, obeyed traffic laws, and even made a stop to let you get out and use the restroom.

The ink-red sun faded as it set beneath the horizon. No one was around to tell you the estimated travel time. Perhaps the ride would last forever if you asked. That wouldn't be so bad, you thought. A comfortable purgatory felt shamefully preferable to the utter unknowns book ending both sides of the trip.

But a stronger aspect of you wanted to get wherever this bus headed sooner than later. Eris was at some sort of game. She could have opened up a hole in the ground and dropped you off wherever she pleased. The longer you sat idle, the more vulnerable to nibbling anxieties you became.

The bus jerked over a pothole.

Maybe she did have a little more respect for you than that, but the fact that she was luring you somewhere unknown and entirely on her terms could not be ignored. You felt wary. And weary.

Games, illusions, and tricks, tricks, tricks. You expected nothing but hoped for a bit of honesty and even that felt like a gambit, if not outright naive. But you didn't imagine she'd put on this show only to spin falsehoods.

You scattered the expectations from your head. Those carried danger. Expect her, and only her. Don't bother with a plan, because any plan would vanish into smoke the instant she looked at it. The whole situation was a funhouse without the fun. A maze with no exit or entrance, and you're the lucky mouse scurrying along knowing there's no cheese to find.

At least by playing your cards right, you might crawl out alive.

Without the need to bother yourself with expectations and half-bred ideas, you were left with nothing else to do but stare out the windows. Tilted fence posts lined green countrysides trailing either side of the road. You should've bought a magazine at the gas station.

Curiosity itched and you hopped into the driver's seat to play hell with the wheel and pulled on switches passengers weren't allowed to touch. Nothing happened. You thunked the horn, which did work. Not satisfying, but that was all the entertainment bound to be discovered.

The clock at the front of the bus showed the first sign of the upcoming weirdness. Red numbering ticked over the traditional way. Eleven o'clock. Twelve. One. Two. Zero. Zero. Dash. Dash. You frowned, but didn't find it surprising.

The roadside terrain shifted with each driven mile. It was April. Spring. The trees faded into ocher and auburns. Leaves tumbled over the road, lit by gloomy headlights in the night.

The sky cleared up. The stars shone with curious definition, as if the edges of their twinkling would cut your finger if touched.

You'd swear the horizon approached and became jagged, jumping inwards and upwards, or at least from what you could tell by the admittedly bright moonlight.

Something happened to the air. It prickled your skin and tasted sharp on your tongue, smelled crisp in your nose. The hairs on your arm stood on end and if someone touched you, they'd get the nastiest shock of their life. Snow began to fall outside, even though no clouds moved overhead.

The temperature inside the bus dropped to a chill. Not a bitter chill that makes your teeth clatter and knees knock, but a sleepy breed of cold. So you slept. You woke up. Still snowing outside and still the same oddities of the land in the distance.

No other cars drove up or down the lanes. No fences or signs guarded the roadsides. Only flat pavement rolled ahead, unending.

Pieces of the land fell away into canyons without bottoms. Gashes of ground opened up into nothingness, leaving long, long shards off snow-covered earth to flow into crooked streams and taper away. The bus drove ahead on a spear of highway whose breadth narrowed yard by yard.

The sky overhead changed from its clear night. Violets and clouded golds bloomed overhead and your hands tightened on the seat in front. But the sky opened in a more gradual flowering than the celestial fireworks display you saw before.

Auroras ribboned into view and trailed long lines of glittering cyans and limes over the window. You crossed your arms for warmth and watched in quiet.

Just when you swore that the road would pinch itself closed and send the bus careening over the edge into space, a building came into view.

A bus terminal, or a minimalist reconstruction of one, sat alone on the right side of the road. The structure carried the general shape of a bus station, but made of nondescript material, and lit not by bulbs, but stationary spheres of light that hovered between white and orange like trained fireflies.

The bus chuffed to the lumbering crawl of a pack animal after a long journey. The brakes whined and the vehicle stopped. The doors at the front end opened to a rush of cold air.

You waited, even though no rush of passengers risked cramming the aisle and no driver announced this place to be the last stop for the night. Time held still.

You left the seat and didn't bother grabbing the plastic bag that made up your luggage. At the end of the aisle, you looked behind to make sure no one remained seating. Of course, there was you and only you.

The air bit your skin the moment your shoes touched the ground. Snowflakes fell on your head. You walked through a basic door frame and into the so-called terminal. The gray building had no true roof or rooms. Only right angles, flat surfaces, and empty spaces where windows should be. Light glowed beyond them.

Soft snow gave way underfoot as you walked through what could generously be called an entrance.

The frame felt smooth beneath your hand, and cold. A forest, populated with dark trees powdered with snow waited beyond the terminal approximation. You looked at the lights and saw they hung in the air around a series of posts arranged in parallel lines that reminded you of the trucker station where-

She sat against the wall, off to the right.

Her body wrapped in a loose coil. A furred knee was drawn near her chest and her ringed, pebbled arm rested on it. Her other leg bent in an L shape. The point of her long face tilted up, by just so many degrees, unmoving. Snowflakes covered her wings and dusted her sweeping antlers.

You left the door frame with your hand trailing on the wall and took one step, and another, and one more. An appreciable gap of space remained between you and her.

The heat of her body reached where you stood. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that she was aware of that.

You pressed against the featureless wall, hands in pockets, staring at the forest and not-trucker's station.

Neither of you spoke.

Her breathing had the steadiness of someone who hasn't moved for several hours. From the corner of your eye, you saw her black-tipped nose widen and narrow as winter air passed in and out. You could tell when she blinked, because her molten eyes almost glowed in the night.

She spoke first.

“I wish I smoked, sometimes. I could use a cigarette right now.”

You said nothing and only made a token nod, hardly perceptible.

“Or maybe one of those expired burri-”

“You hurt me.” The cold air frosted your breath as you spoke. It felt like an accident, but you kept going. “You hurt a lot of people. Made a big mess back there. Huge. If you're after social data, then you got loads to read on.”

Her head lowered an inch and her thumb and forefinger clacked their nails together. “Yeah.”

The long tips of her ears swiveled outwards. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Terrified,” you said. Her ears fell back and she looked at the powdered ground.

“And here you are.” Her wings shook off the snow and pushed her away from the wall. She walked towards you on all fours, moving one leg at a time, leaving deep prints in the ground, all from a different animal.

“I want to figure out some things,” you told the approaching Eris.

“Such as?”

“If I hate you or not.”

The edges of black lips looked amused, but not glad. “Small wonder, I want to figure that out too.”

Warmth flooded the air as she entered reaching distance. She bent her neck and her smoldering eyes moved across the injured skin on your arms and neck. The bruises had some time to fade by now, but her handiwork was plain to see as spots on cowhide.

She sat on her haunches and her hands reached for your arms, pausing just before the fingers responsible made contact.

You made no move to stop her and only asked, “Why's that?”

Tips of padded skin and pliable scales touched discolored flesh. Hot talons traced over ugly remnants of unfettered rage. It felt good. Better than all the hot water and vaseline in the world, and the disgust made you shiver.

“Because,” she said while drawing a dark fingertip around the red rings on your neck, “when I did this,” she held your throat in a soft caress between three fingers, “I wanted you to hate me.”

You stared into her eyes that did not look at you. “I did.”

“You still chased after me.”

“Kept up pretty well, right until I didn't.” You put a hand around her steely forearm but didn't move it away. “Can't say you play fair.”

Snow fell between you. “Why did you want me to hate you?”

She pulled her hand away and stepped off. Your skin tightened as the cold air returned. “Because if you cursed my guts and spat on my name, all that drama stuff, you'd run off and it'd just be me, like it's been for a long time. I figured the things I'm going to do don't have time for consultation and worrying whether or not so-and-so may approve. And maybe it'd be better for you, in the long run.” Eris shrugged. “Or better as things could be.”

You wiped snow off your nose. “Ah. You didn't want to feel guilty. Gave me indian burns to chase me off.”

“I didn't want to hesitate. Guilt, I can deal with,” she turned to face the forest.

“How guilty are you?”

Eris turned her head and her mouth stretched. “Pretty damn guilty. Tie me up and set me to the torch. I try not to lie to myself.”

“What about to me?”

She said nothing.

“I don't know anything about you," you said.

“Don't be that way.

“Is there anything about you that's true? This place,” you walked in a semi-circle, arms wide, pointing at the lights floating on the ground and in the sky. “How much of this is real? Or is all of this an illusion? Christ, I feel like I'm in a snow globe.”

“It's...real.” She shook her head. “Enough. The parts and pieces just come together. Like me, yeah?” Her tail lapped in shallow waves.

“Real enough. Real,” you laughed, “enough. That's perfect.” You shoved your hands in your pockets.

“I never said it was perfect. Or me. I'm only human.”

“No you're not.”

“Well I feel like it,” she spat, then pressed her lips tight. The wind blew her mane across her back. “I'm going for a walk,” she announced in a low voice. “Stay here or tag, I guess.” She stepped between a small divide in the forest, a snow-covered path.

You said a hushed swear word to yourself and followed.

For several yards you walked, silent, and avoided stepping in her foot steps. You fumed inwards and the anger kept you warm. Twisting branches formed an arching canopy overhead and kept the snow off your shoulders.

She spoke ahead of you. “If it means anything, what I did was -I know it wasn't the best way.”

“The best way to what? Are you trying to rule the world or destroy it?”

“Rule?” she almost sounded offended. “Rule is restriction,” she said. “Restriction is stagnation and, well.” She sniffed. “I'm not too fond of that. No, I don't want to rule the world, God, that's dull. And no, I don't want to destroy it, that's even worse.”

“No, no,” she said. “I want this place to keep spinning, just not necessarily at the same angle.”

“So what's your plan, then?”

She stopped and turned around, wingtips kicking up white dust. “Look, if you expect me to jump onto a stage and pull back a curtain and yell, 'Behold- My grand master scheme!' you're going to be severely disappointed, buddy. This isn't a cartoon and no heroes are going to come kick my ass every week, roll credits, tune in next time. I don't know what I'm going to do in a year, I don't even know what I'm going to do tomorrow." Her voice held no pride, only stating fact.

“Do you expect me to believe you're running on improv twenty-four seven?”

Her wings rubbed together. “I do what I can, but I don't know. Not beyond right now.”

“Sorry,” you shrug. “But I have a hard time believing this isn't a huge set up.”

“Why?”

“How do you expect anyone to believe they can just run into a girl like you? That I bought a cheap ticket onto a crappy bus and the one person I spoke to turned out to be,” you pointed to her, “you. You and all that you are,” you swallowed, “and all that happened. How in anyone's life does that happen by chance, completely by chance?”

“A girl like me,” she muttered to herself, walking again. “Chance,” she said with the tip of her tongue. “Life is nothing but chances.” Yellow moonlight fell over her face, broken in pieces between branches and her antlers. “Do you honestly think I planned any of this? I'm as surprised as you. Strange as it is, we're in this together.” The intersecting tree limbs lit her body in patches as she walked. “That's why I asked you to come here.”

The snow proved difficult to trudge through. The wind ran between the trees and the air whistled. You bunched your arms tight. Frost bite became a worry in the back of your head.

The trees eventually spaced apart into a small clearing. A trunk lay across the center, covered in snow and it's top end thrusting icy limbs into the air. Eris paused before it.

“I said I'm not going to apologize. But there is something I want to ask you. It's a big something, so-”

“I want to talk to Erica.”

Her body froze. She looked back over her shoulder, mouth opened.

“Come again?”

“Erica,” you repeated. “I want to know how much, exactly how much of her is left. You want me to deal with you, Eris, fine. We'll deal. But not until I speak with Erica.”

She stood tall and still. “And if you can't?”

“Then we're through here.”

The wind blew far away, low and uncaring. Your ears turned red and your arms shook more from fear than the cold. Eris's eyes looked across the snow, brow low and wings drawn tight against her body. Fur rippled along her neck. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she looked at you, they glistened in the dark patch of surrounding fur.

“Okay,” she said quietly, “of course you want to talk to her. Fair enough.” Maybe it was a trick of the light reflecting off the snow, but she seemed unnaturally small.

She stepped away from the log, you stepped towards the log. Her leg lifted and settled back into the snow, one limb at a time. Her chest fell and rose as she breathed through her nose, talking to herself under her breath. She took one last linger at you.

Eris spread her forelegs and lowered her head to the ground. Her silver mane spilled across the bright snow and they blended into each other. Claws dug into the ground. For a while nothing happened.

Then a hand reached out from her curls and grabbed her antler. Another wrapped around her horn.

Your heart stopped.

The arms pulled on the blue horns and a tangle of red and brown hair emerged. Erica lifted her head from the back of Eris, looking towards the sky, eyes closed and mouth open, breathing. Legs swung out over Eris's long neck and Erica dismounted, knees shaking as if they were asleep.

She stood straight, still wrapped in the endless layers of hoodies, jackets, and windbreakers. The wind blew her curls across her shoulders. She opened the widest hazel eyes and flecks of green and copper glowed.

Erica ran a hand across Eris, raising her head from the snow. Her palm brushed her jaw and touched the bottom of her chin. The mythical creature she emerged from had half-lidded eyes that looked uncertain. Erica whispered to her briefly, to which Eris nodded, and walked towards you.

Eris swayed in the snow, alone.

The clearing was silent except for the snow crunching beneath Erica's heavy boots. She came to a stop in front of you and heat washed in front of her like a tide.

“Hey,” she said.

Arms and hands embraced, encircled, and pulled two bodies close. Your fingers entwined deep into her spiraling hair the color of late October. You kissed for a long time because you both knew you would never hold each other like this again.

Mouths parted and warm air was shared. You pressed your forehead against her chestnut skin.

The moment just might last forever, if you asked.

You asked if she was okay.

Her long fingers touched your frozen cheek and she said yes.

“I have no idea what happens next,” you said.

“Neither do I, but that's okay.”

“For you. I'm not like you.”

“That's why I'm glad you're here,” she breathed. “That's why I'm glad I met you. Even if you're a nervous wreck killjoy.”

You laughed. “I'm losing my mind, aren't I?”

“Lost it a long time ago.”

“Do you have to go back to her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to?”

“I wouldn't have left if you didn't ask.”

You accepted that in the same way you accept teeth falling out and best friends moving away.

She leaned closer, if that was possible. “Remember, guy. -I'm her. That's me. All of me, the good and the bad, times a thousand. Understand? Erica, Eris. Whatever's in between. My state of grace, even if it's flawed. It's a lot of power. Maybe too much for one person, but it is me.”

"That part of you is going to wreck half the world."

Erica frowned. "That part of me is trying to figure things out. Told you I can be a raging bitch."

Eris stepped forward and lifted a shaking paw from the snow. Erica looked back, then to you, eyes blinking.

This is the way things had to be, huh? You weren't sorry to have met Erica. You weren't even sorry for getting the crap wrangled out of you, but God, you wish life allowed you to meet differently. At a class, or circus, maybe a concert with twenty five dollar t-shirts. At better places in both of your lives so you could discover each other without rush and with normal worries. Without the monsters and storms. She'd meet your family and trash talk Rich, trade candy with Maddie and you'd meet her parents and her dad would scare the shit out of you and you'd find out to her annoyance that she went to a Catholic school for several years and still kept the skirt. Maybe you'd rent an apartment together and fight over the bills and screw in every room and then some, staircase included, and all kinds of mundane, sappy crap that you'd trade anything to have, and felt incredulous wishing for it.

Everything still might've sunk, but at least you'd face challenges no greater or worse than what anyone else ever dealt with. You didn't demand a happy ending, only asked for a fair shot. It felt selfish, somehow.

You told her as much.

“Hm,” she smiled and touched your ear. “Sounds lame, but...yeah...it could've been nice. I guess neither of us were born under the right stars for that.” Her eyes lowered and she bit her lip, thinking of her own fleeting wishes. “I'll be honest, though. I think we found each other just in time.”

“It's scary,” Erica bit her lip, “and wild. I can't pretend it's going to be all sunshine." She touched your arms. "But if you were wondering,” she whispered, “she likes you, too. You can love her, if you want. If you think you can take it.”

She took your hand and stepped away. You tried to say you could've loved her more than anyone else in your life, but as your mouth opened she called aloud, “It's a big universe. Find someone to stick with and have a good time.” Her smile shined against the snow and she winked.

She spun towards Eris. The furred half of the schism lowered her face their foreheads pressed together and their lips moved. They spoke too low to be heard. Eris lifted her head and her eyes shimmered. Erica looked towards you one more time, stroking Eris's mane. The lion paw touched Erica's back and her tail circled her.

You looked to the ground and turned away from them. Absent-mindedly, you dusted off a section of snow covered log and sat down, hunched over and head in your hands.

A few minutes later foot steps slid across the snow behind you. Eris lifted one leg after the other onto the log. She sat, back curved and her legs stretched out. You watched her toes dig into the snow. Her wings wrapped around her like a blanket and the fur on her cheeks looked wet. Snowflakes scattered over feathers and skin. Her eyes squeezed tight and her great body shuddered.

Your hands templed over your nose. She moved the curls from her eyes and you couldn't help but notice her elbow trembling.

The two of you sat side by side in contemplative silence, thinking about things gained, things lost, and things neither of you had to begin with.

“Eris?” you ventured.

“Yeah,” she whispered beneath the wind. “That's me.”

“Just making sure.”

Eris picked at the dead wood beneath her. “Do you love me?” she asked.

“Yes, yes, God, yes,” you wanted to say. “I've only known you a few days,” you said instead, voice hollow.

She took your answer with a quiet nod, not sure of what she expected, or what she wanted to hear to begin with.

“I'm gonna ask you something,” she began. “It's pretty heavy.”

“I don't know if I trust any choices I make.” Your hands gathered the snow between your legs. “How do I know you're not in my head, stirring things around in there?”

Her ears fell back and eyes widened. “Why would -I'm...look. Everything I can do, the stuff I make happen, wouldn't mean a single damn thing if it faked how people reacted. I'm not interested in tying strings around you and making you dance to my tune." Her hair bounced. "I'm a liar, okay? I'll cheat and I'll twist things around, but believe me, please believe me, when I say that I'd never hijack the choice you make. If that ever happened,” she shivered.

You tossed a loose ball of snow towards the trees. “Alright. Let's say I believe you. Ask away.”

“The things I'm going to do -I don't know what they are, so don't bother asking. But I know not all of them will be nice.” She glanced at you. “At the same time, I don't want to be cruel. I'm not an animal. I need...” Her tail brushed circles in the snow. “I'm not asking you to love me, because when it's all said and done we might hate each other most of all. But I'd rather be with a friend that loathes me than play in a world with a bunch of strangers who don't know my name.”

“Why me?”

“Because I believe you're trying to be a good person. I won't make excuses for myself. But I'll try my best. If someone's next to me who's trying too...” She shrugged. “Maybe it'll be better, that's all.”

Her white teeth clacked twice. “Or maybe I just don't want to do it solo. It's not as fun alone.”

You stared at the snow falling across your legs. “And if I don't want to hang around?”

Her arms stretched out from her wings and her claws rubbed together. “If you're not interested, then I can send you anywhere in the world. Name a place, bam, you're there. I'll do what I do, but leave your corner of the globe alone for as long as you're there. Won't put a single finger on the place. But once you're there, you're on your own. You'll never see me again, no questions asked, no hard feelings. No further interference. Cross my heart, or whatever's inside me.”

"So same thing you did to everyone else, except I get to pick where the dart gets tossed?" you sounded unimpressed.

Eris rubbed her wrist. "Don't know what to tell you. It's the best I can do."

She looked at you from the corner of her eyes.

“Or you can stay with me. That may be more dangerous, hell, what am I talking about, it is. But," she spoke slowly, "I'm not going anywhere for a long time. I know that's worth something to you. And if one day I wake up and you're not there, well. I'll know I fucked up hard." She licked her teeth. "I already did."

"You said you can see fate, lifelines, things like that, right?

Eris nodded, "Yeah, but don't make me sound like a carnival fortune teller."

"How am I looking right now?"

Her fingertips rubbed together and the red lights of her eyes followed a long trail. "Loopy," she said, thrumming an invisible line.

"Wonder why that's so," you rapped on the log beneath you.

"Indigestion, maybe. But no heads or tails to be found." She cupped her paws together.

She licked the bottom of her lip. "It's funny -I can do whatever I want, but this is all your call in the end.” Her golden eyes looked into yours. “That is, if you want this to end.”

Eris stretched out her bird claw and held it open. “So. Be my friend?”

You stared deep into the out held palm. Her eyes were gleaming and frightful, but reflected hope. You looked across her body, her proud wings, the keratin crown on her head, her tail that looped across the fallen wood. She harbored power beyond reckoning and a primal beauty that bewildered you.

“Is this how you ruin my life?”

“This is how we ruin each other's.” She smiled.

Truly, she asked for more than a friend. If you took her hand, you'd be wedded to her in conscience and bone forever and ever. Intertwined in flesh and destiny, if such a thing ever existed.

The wind blew between you. Her ears tilted back. She knew what she asked of you.

In that moment you couldn't tell if you were half in love or in hate with her, and unsure if knowing would make any difference. How long could you last with her, waking up day after day, staring into her eyes? How quickly would the human soul erode beneath the burn of whatever force powered her? How many times have you saved each other over these past scant few days, and how many times can you save each other still?

You decided on the only way to find out.

One palm touched another.

Fog rolled out of her mouth. Her shoulders loosened and she brought your hand to the tip of her muzzle, eyes closed. She kissed your knuckles, one by one. Her lips felt smooth and warm.

She opened her wings and moved close to you, hand-in-hand. Her thick lion arm grasped your torso and pressed you against her chest. Her wings wrapped around you. Soft blue feathers ran over your skin and kept the cold out. Eris pressed the tip of her muzzle into the top of your hair and you felt her breathe in and out.

You rubbed your fingers against hers. Touching her palm, wrist, claws.

“I can't think straight around you,” you whispered. “God, I don't understand what you do to me.”

The two of you locked eyes. Utterly alien to one another but that didn't matter, at least for the moment.

Eris's red tail waved across the fallen tree. “I can say the same about you.”

The kiss was inevitable. Could you ever get used to those pointed teeth, the long tongue, and steaming breath? That face of predatory calculation and sleek, forest-bound serenity? Mouths opened and strange tastes were experienced. If her kiss ever lost its thrill, Eris may consider it a failure on both your parts.

You shared each other, fingers and palms touching cheeks and necks, accepting the fact that the only guarantee in your lives were each other with each exhalation and caress.

Of all the ways you could have fallen, how was it this way and how so fast?

The tips of her antlers glinted in the pale light and hummed to themselves.

The trees fell away one branch at a time. Broke off from the world and drifted into nothing. The fur of her chin drifted over your brow. The ground crumbled apart where the clearing stopped. Snow still fell from the sky. Stars and moonlight glittered. Your thumb brushed the dark fur painted around her eyes. Clouds longer than the world and fixed with sapphires drifted above and beneath you.

You and Eris held each other on a island of snow in the middle of a state of mind, more real than a bus ticket, or motel room, or misgiving you've ever had in life.

The quiet was such that you only heard two hearts beating.

Eris asked to see your phone.

You pulled it out and held it up. She took it from your hand, fingertips grazing each other as she did so.

Nails pricked the cracked screen and it flickered on through split glass.

Eris found the song she liked and set the rest of the playlist to random. She set the phone in the snow, jutting out of the ground and singing to the void.

Neither of you knew which song would play next, but both believed it was worth finding out.

The End