Burdened Beasts

chapter two: base

Sebastian

“I’m on it,” I say.

Sherl kicks up her high tops, propping them on my desk next to the keyboard. She pops her gum, loud, so loud it makes me wince. I rub my ear, still typing with one hand. She chuckles. It takes me all of thirty seconds to trace the information she needs, and another ten to wipe it from existence. I sigh dramatically.

“It would be nice if you’d give me a challenge once in a while,” I tell her.

“It would be nice if you weren’t such a limp-dicked baby nerd,” she grins. “Twist!”

Twist appears behind us, c***s his head. He’s such a dramatic difference to Sherl that it’s almost startling. She’s wearing a paint-spattered Hellfire Club shirt and Converse, her neon pink hair spiking out from two high pigtails. Twist is wearing a suit, jacket removed, his black vest and tie pristine. His inky hair and eyes seem to absorb the light, where Sherl always seems to reflect it. How these two function as a couple, I will never understand.

“You better not have called me back here to discuss LP’s d**k,” he drawls.

Sherl giggles.

“No point,” she says, “he’s not using it.”

“I’m sitting right here,” I remind them.

“No,” she goes on, as if she hasn’t even heard me. “But take a look at this-”

“At LP’s d**k?” Twist asks.

“Still right here,” I say.

“Goddess, no, this client.”

Sherl turns my monitor toward him. Twist bends over the desk to look closer, sandwiching himself between Sherl and I. My office – if you can even call it that – is tiny, there’s barely enough room for me. When Sherl invades my space, which is often, it’s downright crammed. With all three of us shoulder to shoulder, it’s nearly painful. It doesn’t help when Sherl growls, taking a handful of Twist’s ass. He purrs in response.

“Ah, come on,” I complain, which only makes Sherl laugh again.

But Twist doesn’t laugh. He’s laser-focused on the screen, eyes flicking over every detail. This keen attention is part of what makes him good at these jobs, part of why we decided to start this shady endeavor in the first place. That, and necessity. Three castoffs come together and they can either go rogue and die or stick together and survive. Our pack of misfits.

“This is the second this week?” Twist asks.

“Third,” Sherl answers.

“Third what?” I ask. “What am I missing?”

“How many this month?” Twist asks, ignoring me.

“Ten,” Sherl says, eyebrows raised.

“Ten what?” I ask again. “It looks like the usual. What did he order?” I flip through the notes at my elbow. “New IDs, birth certificate, passport. Wipe his old s**t and start fresh. We do a million of these, why is this one weird? Who is this guy?”

“It’s not who he is,” Sherl says. “It’s what he is.”

“What is he?” I ask, studying his picture like I’ll be able to guess just from his face. “Bear? Vamp?”

He’s a fae, Avery tells me.

“No f*****g way,” I say out loud.

“All from the same area?” Twist asks, but Sherl is already nodding.

“The fae aren’t real,” I breathe, tapping his picture. “Look at him, he’s-”

“Glamoured,” Twist answers.

“Glamoured?!” I demand. “What the f**k does that mean?”

Magic, Avery says. Altered appearance.

“No, no way,” I say. “You would be able to tell, wouldn’t you?” I ask Sherl. “Couldn’t you, you know, smell it on him?”

“Couldn’t you?” she demands, rolling her eyes.

The intercom buzzes, then Laura’s voice comes through from the front desk.

“New Client on Line One,” she says.

Twist hits the button on the microphone.

“Who do they want?”

“Order for Sherlock Holmes,” Laura says.

“Send them to Voicemail,” Sherl replies.

We all turn back to the screen, but no one says anything. We get a lot of people coming through, some human, but mostly paranormals. I do the majority of my work back here, hacking, forging, hands-on s**t. I rarely meet the clients, and when I do it’s only because I went past the front desk for a cup of coffee at the wrong moment. Most of our clients want one of two things. They either want Sherl; papers, IDs, fresh starts. They want to get lost, for one reason or another.

That, or they want someone found.

“Okay, they’re fairies,” I conclude, trying to blow it off. “So what?”

“So there’s a s**t ton of them on the move, that’s what,” Sherl says.

“Running from something,” Twist adds.

“Or maybe they’re starting a new, whatever, fairy commune somewhere,” I begin.

“Fairy commune?” Twist asks.

“Or maybe their leader’s a piece of s**t and they’re fleeing, what does it matter?”

Twist and Sherl share a long glance.

“What is going on, you guys?”

They wanted to protect you, Avery says.

“You shut the f**k up,” I snap. “What aren’t you telling me?” I ask them.

The intercom buzzes.

“What is it now?!” I demand.

“New Client on Line Two,” Laura says. “Order for Oliver Twist.”

“Send them to Voicemail,” Twist replies.

“Since when do we keep s**t from each other?” I ask them.

They share another long glance. Avery whimpers in the back of my head, and I want to smash something. This is a first. Beyond anything I thought to expect from them, and I thought the two of them hooking up was about the most surprising s**t they could pull on me. I’ve known them for longer than I haven’t and we have never, not once, kept secrets. Only once have we told each other lies.

I met Sherl when we were kids. I was homeless. Newly a rogue, with nowhere to go, winter baring down on me like staring into the barrel of a gun. I’d never, not once, wanted for anything in my entire childhood before then. No idea how to hunt, no idea how to build a shelter, no idea how to protect myself. I hated what I was, despised my very existence, spit venom at whoever looked at me wrong.

Another boy found me. He was scrawny, small for our age, voice cracking on every other word. He’d never eaten a decent meal in his life, never had enough. I asked if he knew who I was. He said no. That was his lie. He asked if I was scared. I said no. That was mine.

That boy is long gone, and in his place sits Sherl, eyebrows drawn together in concern. I know her real name, and she knows mine. I would no more deadname her now than I would lie to her. All this time, from that first day, she’s known me. She has never, not once, told a soul who I was. Even Twist had to drag it out of me. They are the only two who know, who have ever known. But I’m suddenly sure this is why they’ve kept something hidden from me now.

“What does this have to do with me?” I ask them, but it barely comes out as a whisper.

The intercom buzzes.

“What is it?!” we all shout in unison.

“Uh,” Laura responds, uncharacteristically frazzled. “There’s someone here.”

We go silent. All of us. Twist hits the mic.

“What do they want?” he asks.

“Um,” Laura says, pauses. “They’re looking for a Sebastian Hunt.”

Cold comes over me, from head to toe, at the sound of my real name.

Twist puts a finger to his lips. Shh, he tells me, as if I didn’t know. Sherl pops silently up onto the desk, carefully and quietly pulls aside a panel in the ceiling. Without another word, she helps boost me into the gap. She slides the panel back into place, and I am suddenly alone in the dark. Below me, almost soundless, Twist gives me a command.

“Don’t even move, LP,” he tells me.

In the quiet that follows, I hear the sound of them leaving my office.

Because I can’t do anything I’m told, I start to move. One inch at a time, I lower my big body down until it’s flattened as far as I can go. I shift along the narrow passageway above the ceiling, careful to place my weight only along the beams. Moving quietly, I make my way forward until I’m above where the Front Desk is. Through a crack between panels, I listen.

“How can I help you?” Twist is asking.

All I hear is a low rumble, so I lean forward until I can see through the crack. Below me, a man stands at the counter in front of Twist, Sherl, and a very jittery Laura. The guy is f*****g huge. Enormous. His hand is about the size of Twist’s head. I mean, Sherl and I aren’t tiny, and this guy makes us look like we’re on our way to the Lollipop Guild.

“I have reason to believe he’s been through here,” the guy is saying.

“Lots of folks come through here,” Twist says, not unpleasantly.

“I think you’d remember him,” he replies. “Big guy, red hair.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Sherl adds.

“Smells like wet dog,” the guy adds, looking up at the ceiling directly at where I’m hovering.

“Laura,” Twist says, “why don’t you take a smoke break?”

“I don’t smoke-”

“Why don’t you start?” Sherl suggests.

Laura walks quickly around the counter and disappears through the front door. She looks about as keen to get away from this enormous interloper as I am. If I were Laura, I’d get back in my car and take the rest of the day off. But she’s new, and eager, and she’s probably standing right outside with her ear pressed against the door. The big guy seems to have the same idea, because he pitches his voice even lower than before.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we?” he says.

“Let’s,” Twist agrees.

“I know he’s here. I know you’re hiding him. Now, I can get my guys to stake the place out for a few weeks, cause you a whole lot of trouble. Or, you can give me two minutes to talk to him. Just talk. I’ll stay where you can see me. We think he might be in danger, and we don’t want to see any harm come to him.”

“Now you give a s**t about whether or not any harm comes to him,” Sherl hisses, launching herself toward the guy, ready to climb over the counter to get to him.

“No offense meant,” Twist says, catching her firmly about the waist and holding her back. “But I haven’t met many werebears on the side of the angels, if you get what I’m saying.”

“No offense taken,” the guy says. “But I’m not going to risk the success of my assignment on some random rogue werefox and a… whatever is it that you are,” he finishes, gesturing at Twist.

“He’s a mortal,” Sherl snarls.

The big guy throws his head back and laughs.

“We can’t help you,” Twist snaps, his cool façade slipping.

“Why don’t you let Sebastian decide?” the guy asks.

“There’s no one by that name here,” Sherl growls.

They’re here! Avery screams in my head.

It’s so loud, so sudden, that I nearly lose my balance. If I did, I’d go crashing through the ceiling panels, landing right on top of all three of the bodies below me. I cling, barely, just managing to keep a grip with my fingers and toes. A single drop of sweat slips off the bridge of my nose. It hits the panel below me with a quiet click.

They’re coming! Avery shrieks.

Several things happen at once. First, Laura bursts back in through the front door and screams at everyone to run. No sooner has the warning left her mouth then there’s a rush of air behind her, snapping her head to the side. She slumps to floor, almost in slow motion, dead.

Next, Big Guy draws a gun from his back, turning to shield Twist and Sherl behind him. He fires round after round, pop after pop on either side of where Laura stood only a moment ago. He reloads, keeps firing, but I can’t tell if he’s hit anything. There’s nothing there to see.

Then, Twist turns. He takes Sherl’s face carefully in both hands. He kisses her.

“Forgive me,” he breathes.

He spins, slams his palm forward into the empty air, flicks his wrist. Big guy is yanked back like he’s attached to a leash and Twist just told him to heel. With his free hand, Twist pushes Sherl into the guy’s arms, then slams his other palm forward. The air in front of the counter shivers, like heat waves, looks like it starts to melt.

“Out the back door!” Twist shouts at the guy, who is already moving, already pulling a kicking Sherl along with him.

Something, some veil, falls away below me. The melting air sloughs off, reveals the shimmering shape of three men dressed in black. But something is falling away from Twist, too. His eyes are still dark, his hair still a slick oil spill smoothed back from his forehead. But on his brow there are two small horns. Snaking up his back, slinking over one of his shoulders, a forked tail licks the air. His ears end in neat, pale points.

Glamour, Avery says.

“LP, go!” Twist shouts.

He turns both palms down, sending thundering waves of rippling air at the men. They dodge them neatly, twisting their bodies, sending the waves back again. One catches Twist in the shoulder. His shirt rips neatly, already stained with red.

“Now!” he screams.

For once, I do what I’m told.

I backtrack, limbs shaking. Making too much noise and moving way too fast, I slide backwards until I hit the far wall. Kicking the panels out below me, I drop down into the backroom in a graceless heap. Up, through the open back door, I burst out into the afternoon light to see two black sedans parked and waiting.

Sherl screams for me, reaching.

Big Guy is faster. He’s already moving, already shoving her down into the furthest car. I move to get to her, to rip this guy’s head off if that’s what it takes. From inside, Twist screams, loud and long. Sherl shrieks in answer. Turning back toward the building, I take a step toward the open door. Why the hell did I leave him alone in there, outnumbered? Yeah, I’m pissed. He knew my real name, and I had never even seen his real face. But that’s my family in there. I f****d up, but I can fix it. I can still make it to him.

The door of the sedan open behind me, then hands have me, an arm banded tight over my neck. I throw my elbow, flip my body, kick my legs. None of it matters. I’m yanked into the sedan, the door slams shut, and the car screeches into motion.

There’s nothing. No light, no sound. I gasp for breath in the dark, my eyes trying to adjust beyond the tinted windows and black partition separating the back seat from the driver. My chest rises and falls against the arm still held hard against my chest. There’s the strangest scent, sharp lavender and heavy rain. Then there are two arms around me, instead of one. I’m pressed back against the warm body behind me, there’s a nose in my hair, lips on my neck. There’s a little voice in the dark.

“Mine,” she says.