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Chapter Nine
"This is a nice place."
Grace lifted her head, eyebrow raised at his words. She’d grown used to sleeping cuddled against his chest on his chair, as she did then. She wasn't sure how long she had been dozing, nor what had prompted his question in the first place, but she grinned at his contemplative tone.
A full two months had passed since their very first date, perhaps a bit longer, she realized when she considered how much of the summer had already passed. She'd taken him to all of her favorite restaurants, to hear live music in the gazebo on weekend evenings, another trip to the observatory and actual stargazing in his loft, to the Maker's Mart on Saturday mornings, and to a free concert put on by the community choir. He'd marveled at the adaptive architecture of the different neighborhoods, expressing his appreciation for how seriously so many of the area businesses he visited for his program were taking the initiative he'd laid out. It had been the nicest summer she could remember experiencing since childhood, and the thought that it would soon be drawing to a close was a dark shadow on her heart.
That night, the entry in her note app was once again about food. Specifically, the mothman appetite. Her mothman, at least. They’d had meal plans for that evening — a late dinner for her and brunch for him, but then he’d been needed to fill in over in the classrooms and she’d wound up working late. By the time they were both free, it was nearly the middle of the night, and he’d still not eaten. She could tell he was sulking, deciding to remind him of the benefits of living in the multispecies town.
“C’mon, let’s go get you some food. The Food Gryphon is open all night, let’s get you some fruit. We can make big salads”
“I’m too hungry,” he grumbled. “Besides, it’s the middle of the night. You should be asleep.”
Grace rolled her eyes, replacing her shirt nightgown with a t-shirt dress.
“First of all, it’s the weekend, and I’m not one of your hummingbirds. I’ll sleep when I want, bossy. And seriously, you’re too hungry togo and getfood?”
Less than ten minutes later, they were touching down in the parking lot of the grocery store. She would never enjoy flying, Grace had determined. She clung to him the entire time they were in the air, her face buried again his fluff, hoping he couldn't hear her occasional screams. "C'mon," she cajoled, stroking his velvety arm. The parking lot was nearly full, despite the late hour, and she watched as a family of humanoid bats cross through the automatic doors. "We'll get all your favorites."
"I think I'm too weak to go in. They'll probably have to carry me out on a stretcher."
She bit her lip, holding back a smile in the face of his petulance. Merrick was calm and aggravatingly rational most of the time, but she'd discovered he had a particular talent for poutiness. His feathery antennae twitched as he scowled down at her smile.
"I’m just trying to avoid you having to spend the night in the emergency room when my stomach tries to digest my lungs. You’re welcome.”
The Food Gryphon was open twenty-four hours a day, catering to the vast array of residents who called Cambric Creek home. As Merrick pulled a cart from the corral, after begrudgingly following her in, she eavesdropped on a vampire couple, arguing over a bottle of wine.
“Why do we need to spend this much? No one is even going to drink it!”
“Do you want Doctor Resanovic to think we’re cheapskates? Use your head, Byron.”
Before her, the produce aisle stretched, long and green and plentiful, and she sighed in relief.
“Did you know that the starvation process starts in as little as seventy-two hours? Pretty soon my brain will have depleted its glucose stores and my liver will need to start converting amino acids just to keep me alive.”
The vampires raised their heads to stare in unison as Merrick gave an enormous sigh, and she glared.
“Well it’s a good thing you haven’t actually gone seventy-two hours without eating. Look, they have everything! Let’s get our salad stuff and go, I’ll bet the lines are terrible for as crowded as the parking lot was.”
“I’m in danger of an electrolyte imbalance, you know. I can feel the autophagy already ravaging my muscles.”
Now the vampires were whispering, and she wondered what kind of doctor their Doctor Resanovic was.They’re probably going to call him, let him know there’s a moth dying of starvation in the grocery store.
“They have a whole endcap of frozen pizzas right over there, Grace. You should just get yourself one with extra pepperoni and leave me in the parking lot. Putrefaction will set in within a few days, there won’t even be anything left of me to clean up.”
The vampires clutched each other’s hands, their argument over the wine forgotten.
“Gosh, that’s too bad. Fuck Night is on this week's calendar, and now you're planning on dying here in front of the onions.” A series of outraged clicks accompanied his huff as she turned away, not bothering to hide her smile.
Kale, spinach, mesclun. Blueberries, blackberries, strawberries . . .Merrick was finally quiet as she piled the cart, trailing a few steps behind her, and she hoped he was mollified by the abundance of fruit. The vampires were now bickering over the necessity of papaya on the fruit tray for their dinner party, and she wondered how much they were going to spend on food that wouldn’t be eaten.
A flickering motion from the corner of her eye made her turn sharply, but there was nothing other than a heap of over-priced cherries next to the grapes. She had moved as far as the mountain of limes at the end of the aisle when it happened again.
She turned to face her companion, but he was still pushing the cart, hands firmly wrapped around the handlebar.Something is off. . . she stared, realizing after a moment what was different.
Merrick was chewing.
As she turned back to the produce, she kept him in her peripheral vision, watching in amused horror as his long, coiled tongue unfurled, wrapping around a plump, green grape. His hands never moved and he remained upright, the picture of innocence. The grape vanished and he chirped happily, antennae bobbing.
