Page 100 of Florescentia

His chest rose and fell, and his hips shifted under me.

I took out my notebook, opening to a blank page. Then behind him, on the grave, I took my last graphite transfer of a name.

“Allison Thomas,” I read, smeared, and put the booklet away.

“You are surely human,” he muttered, almost panting.

“Why? Because of my creativity?”

“Because of your cruelty.”

“Is that what it is?” I smiled, standing over him. “I thought it was just some old-fashioned fun. Cruelty would be saying you have to walk home, without changing, in your soiled trousers.”

I stepped away, my skirt unveiling the dark stain on the charcoal fabric.

“It’s a good thing you don’t make the rules, then.”

“But you’d let me.” I winked. “Now come. I have work to do.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Eclipse

Even when changing from soiled clothes, I still felt filthy.

Surely, I thought, I shouldn’t be able to be affected the way I was. No, I was above weak impulses. I was pure instinct, a ravaging, insatiable hunger, an knowable, complex being—

“Why are there animal corpses here?” I blurted out, distracted from my own thoughts.

“This is a museum.” Lucia’s smile was so wide and smug.

I blinked a few times as my little human eyes adjusted to the interior light. It was grand, much like the Treasury, except this time more animals than books. Just past the ticketing counter were impressive rooms. The first one we walked into had giant skeletal remains, the teeth bared just above us.

“Is this another research project?” My shoulder nearly bumping into other visitors as the curious spectators filled the floors like pumping arteries, stopping and going with each exhibit.

“No.” Her fingers intertwined with mine as she led me deeper into the heart of the building.

The next room was warmer. But to my surprise, the bones had fur this time. Frozen like statues for others to gawk at.

“Come here.” She pulled me up to the giant furry creature, tusks protruding over the guests.

“Why are we here?” I snapped. There were a lot of people, too many brushing up against me as they passed. The clumsy things had no spatial awareness. Two small people squeaked as they knocked into the back of my legs, running along the exhibit.

“Altair.” She squeezed my hand.

My breath was shaky, my stomach hollow, and my wits severing fast. When I looked at our hands, her thumb rubbed against mine. The softness tickled, and the small taste of something soothing. She was excited about something, the energy she was giving me like the sun after long stormy months.

“I know you’re hungry,” she said.

“How?” I scoffed.

“Because I know that I, alone, cannot feed you.”

Was she angry with me? Bitter? No, her voice was kind, understanding. Her face was smooth, the muscles relaxed as she looked at the mammoth before us. There wasn’t even sadness in her admission.

She took my hand and placed it on the trunk of the giant mammal.

There was a sudden rush; it could have knocked me to my knees. I wrenched my eyes shut. I wasn’t sure if the sensation was unpleasant or not. The air was suddenly cold, racing into my human lungs at a rate that couldn’t allow me to take steady breaths. The smell of ice and snow, of musty fur and air untouched by industrial waste.