Gracie Abrams is eking out a solitary existence, fighting day-in, day-out against the drain of working customer service and nursing two newborn kittens in her off time. Out on her own ever since her sister moved in with her boyfriend, the burden of...
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Four people piled into Bella's imposing Bronco. Four people drove to the downtown area, two streets away from the river where I had spoken to Talia. Seven blocks away from the Wolf Den where I had first met Bella.
Mayhop's downtown area was a grid. It was a large city, yes, but not that big. Instead of a giant population sequestered in a small surface area, Mayhop was more of a sprawling industrial city. Downtown wasn't the main attraction. Not really.
The heart of Mayhop's government and administration buildings intermingled with endless murals and statues to create a pleasant atmosphere.
On a Sunday night in the middle of winter, though, that pleasant atmosphere became abandoned. Ghostly.
Every small move felt three times louder than usual—a scuff of a shoe against the salt-white street. The closing of the Bronco's doors that seemed to echo against all the tall buildings. Even our breaths took on a louder, more desperate twinge.
Patty's main office was on a one-way street. We parked adjacent to it on a different block, where cars for tenants in upstairs apartments camouflaged us. I used to take this path to my previous job. It was a one-way headed straight out of the city, eventually turning into I-16. For years, I had used this road. I had gotten used to the lights, the traffic, the regular walkers. I'd watched the buildings grow, fall under construction, change names.
Who knew that the grandiose building with the mint-green facade at the top of its white majesty had been housing the High Priestess of a witch coven this entire time?
We ambled in our coats and hats, breathing warm life into fingers frozen by the wind and cold. What a miserable night to go running around in the dark. Mildly orange safety lights affixed to the sides of buildings were our only reprieve in the stillness. There was even a foggy gloom that held that light, spreading it around just that much more to illuminate our path.
Stopping beneath the flashing lights of the old-fashioned theater house, we pretended to be seeing a show, though there was no show advertised on the bulletin tonight. A person in a dark sweatshirt with the hood scrunched closed over their face walked toward us. They were dressed so lightly, their stomach hanging out for all the world to see. A dark brown stomach with a jewel dangling from their navel.
Talia joined our little huddle. She quickly became the center as both Bella and I tried to offer the freezing teen some heat.
"Assume every camera you run across belongs to them," Bella warned.
Talia picked up the stream of conversation, their deep voice shivering in the cold. "We should take a few laps, walk in circles, getting closer and closer at each sweep."
"Won't that just make us show up more on their video feeds?" I asked, but Sam shook her head.
"The cameras are programmed to pick up suspicious activity," she said, grudgingly, as if she preferred she didn't know about these things. "If we're walking randomly, that's not 'suspicious' enough. We'll be treated as regular walkers or confused tourists. It happens more often than not. They've been fine-tuning the security spell to not be so sensitive."
