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We make a pair, he and I. A slow, broken down, getting-older-by-the-fucking-second pair. But he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter how old Obigor gets, he keeps doing him. And that’s what I’m going to do too. He will pee on everything he can find, and I am going to find Sally.
“Tessie.” A dark, gravelly voice comes from the shadows nearby. Obigor turns around and starts shriek barking, his body weight back on his haunches so he can perform geriatric maneuvers as swiftly as possible.
“Oh my god!” I cover my mouth with one hand in a cliched expression of surprise.
It’s Order. He’s hiding his true form with a jacket fitted to make his upper arms look like his only arms, and his eyes hidden by large wrap-around shades. In typical human clothing he almost completely passes. Almost. In a small town he’d probably stick out like a sore thumb, but in a place like New York where there are people actively trying to be weird on every corner, he fits right in.
“I had to see you,” he says.
I can’t stop staring at him. That fucking jawline just slays me.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say. “How did you find me?”
“I went to the precinct and I asked for your whereabouts and the young woman at the counter whose eyes never left her phone told me that you hadprobably gone for a walk to the park or something, so here I am. She was accurate, if not polite.”
I resist the urge to hug him, and then wonder why I am resisting the urge, and then while I’m wondering, the moment passes.
It soon turns out this is not a social or romantic visit. Order has not risked exposure to humanity as a whole just to walk with me in a park, as much as I might find that idea flattering and sweet.
He takes my arm in his and leads me to a quiet corner under a tree. Above our heads, one of his little cousins is working on its web. I have never minded spiders as much as some people, but I’ve also never felt affection for them before.
“I have reason to believe that our home, my home, has been attacked. I was not aware of the burned out truck. I have to say, I have been distracted. It did not occur to me that something, anything would have the knowledge or the strength to strike at our heart. But it does explain why you have not heard from your friend. There are protocols we undertake in case of attack. We seal all communication channels and go dark.”
I mull that over, and he keeps talking.
“If they’ve cut me off, it means I am something approximating a suspect. Our family has been breaking apart of late, cracking under the pressures of the modern world. We were made to serve humanity and save it in the event of war, but this is no time for heroes. This is a time for mercenaries, at best.”
“You think they’re blaming you for the attack? If that’s what happened?”
“I cannot assume anything else. Except for one option I prefer even less than being regarded as a traitor.”
“And that is?”
“Can you not imagine? They might all have been slain. It is possible all are gone, and I am the last of my line.”
“You think they’re dead? No. Sally wouldn’t die. She specifically said she wasn’t interested in doing that.”
I know that’s not how it works really. I know death can come swiftly and unexpectedly, that it does not always give notice, and sometimes happens entirely undetected. But I can’t believe Sally is gone. She was so brave. She wouldn’t have it. Not if she had any choice at all.
“Who would attack your people? Obviously not you.”
“I can only imagine that Rage had some kind of dead man’s switch, and perhaps somehow deployed our enemies. That would be the ultimate revenge. Or perhaps there are other forces at play.”
“Alright. Well. I think the first and most sensible thing to do would be to head off to the house you came from and see what’s happened to it.”
“I did not come from a house, or a home. There are things there that cannot be unseen,” he says. “I fear for your sanity if I am to show you my place of origin. It is strange and frightening to people.”
“Everybody comes from a fucked-up family,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”
He looks away from me. I cannot see his eyes, for they have to remain hidden in public, but I can feel a wave of emotion coming from him, a melancholy angst that is nearly tangible to me.
I have the impulse to hug him again, and this time, I do. I wrap my arms around him and I feel him stiff against me, his lower limbs trapped against his body while wearing attire that really can never fit him at all. He feels like he’s smuggling, well, four arms.
He hesitates briefly, then returns the embrace.
“You are very sweet, Tessie,” he says. “I never expected you to show me affection if I did not capture you.”
I snort against his chest. “I’m going to guess there weren’t a lot of dating and general socialization lessons in whatever curriculum you had.”
