Heaven Gilded Zarcroft Hybrid

Fourteen

"Cynaline..." I whispered.

A hand patted my shoulder.

"It's okay," Cynaline said, calmly. He unbuckled his seatbelt. "We're in the garage. I used my teleporter."

"A what?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Let's get out."

"Did you say teleporter?"

The car's headlights turned on, lighting up the small garage. I opened Dorothy's door for her, and Cynaline opened Jamie's. He had fallen asleep. I guess car rides in general, no matter the length, were like lullabies for him. Dorothy shook him awake.

A steel door rattled as it opened beside us.

Behind it was a dark, vacant school cafeteria, with the pipe ceiling high above and red columns in every corner. A mix-match of tables were scattered around: some were wooden, some steal, and so on. There was a small stage sitting under a dim fluorescent light at the end of the room. Vertical blinds and teal curtains blocked out all of the light, and spanned the floor to the ceiling.

"Have we met?"

We turned our heads to the giant desktop computer by the windows. Attached to both sides were two tall speaker systems: blinking lights, tape decks, and glowing buttons all over. Then I realized they were servers.

On the screen was the bust of a pale man. 

His orange hair flowed to his shoulders, with the rest combed back. His cold blue eyes stared forward, and fit his statuesque face.

Surprisingly, the computer wasn't bright at all for how dark it was. It didn't seem to emit any light at all—like a screen made of paper.

"Are you on a Zoom call?" Jamie whispered to Cynaline.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Facetiming. A video call."

"No, he's a computer. He's always on."

"I'm Jupitas." His voice was soothing and feathery, with a slight English accent. Though it was frizzled by the computer's worn speakers. "I welcome seeing new faces around here. I've heard about you."

"Did you tell Zini they were coming?" Cynaline said. "He didn't answer my dials."

"I did, but he doesn't seem to remember."

He glanced down at the black swivel chair. There was someone sitting in it, laying their head on the desk. Layers of baggy black clothes and silver accessories hung off of his slender frame, and blended into the dark room. I didn't even know they were there.

Cynaline rubbed his shoulder. "Zinoray. I'm here."

He didn't move.

Cynaline shook him harder, but still nothing.

"He's dead asleep," he sighed. "Or maybe just dead."

The man muttered. "I'm not dead."

He lifted his head and yawned. His teased black hair fell down half his face and neck, framing his gaunt face. He looked to be in his early twenties.

He grabbed a stoneware mug sitting in front of him and handed it to Cynaline.

"You can have this," he said. His voice was scruffy, but smooth. "I didn't drink any."

"My friends are here," Cynaline lowered his voice. "From the beanstalk. The Dualgaeans."

"We have guests?"

He looked over at the rest of us, and forced a smile. "Oh. Hi."