30. Cassandra

It wasn’t long until the wine bottle was empty and Lyre was sleeping at the table, and I realized he really was an absolute light weight. I decided it was probably time to head to bed, and pulled him up to his feet. He drunkenly mumbled some mild protests but moved along as I instructed. “Do you need help?” Greyjon said, shifting his chair back so he could stand.

I waved the offer away. “No, it’s fine. You guys have a nice evening.” He looked uncertain, but didn’t insist further. The barkeep and the innkeeper had disappeared – with none of their usual clientele to tend to, I guess they didn’t see the point in staring at us the entire night. I realized I wasn’t really sure what rooms we were allowed to use. Not wanting to even attempt to drag Lyre upstairs, I decided to try a door just past the stairs in a short hallway. I hoped fervently that I wasn’t going to be walking into the kitchen or an employee break room of some sort, and pushed the first door I came to open.

I initially breathed a sigh of relief seeing a bed and what appeared to be a normal room, but froze when I realized it was occupied. Asterollan looked up, frowning – he was standing at the foot of the bed, his shirt halfway pulled off. For a moment I gaped – he was thin, practically all wiry muscle, and also covered in a shocking variety of scars. He looked as though he had been slashed and stabbed and then poorly patched up at least half a dozen times, and I could see a massive burn scar across his upper back. “Oh, shoot, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I mumbled, and attempted to back out of the room, tripping over Lyre’s feet and falling over him instead in an awkward tangle of limbs.

Asterollan sighed and pulled his shirt back on. Then he came over and helped me to my feet, before pulling Lyre easily up from the floor into a fireman’s carry and plopping him down on the bed. I stood by the door for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. “Is he drunk?” Asterollan asked, sounding a little surprised.

I laughed, perhaps a bit nervously. “Yeah. I don’t think he has much experience with wine.”

Something in Asterollan’s expression softened. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t.”

For a moment I was struck with how strangely sympathetic his reaction seemed, for someone that hunted escaped slaves. I studied Asterollan for several moments – the quiet must have stretched a little too long because he looked up at me, a frown on his face that brought me back to the present. “I’m sorry for walking in on you,” I said. “Were you getting ready to go to sleep?” He nodded, and I grimaced. “Sorry,” I said again. I looked down at Lyre’s sleeping form. “I umm… I guess we’re stealing your room.”

He shrugged. “A bed’s a bed. I’ll be fine in one of the other rooms, I’ll just remember to lock the door next time.” He moved to gather his pack and cloak, and started to walk toward the door. Then he stopped, and turned back toward me. He seemed hesitant to speak for a moment, but then asked, “What is the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

“I peed my pants in a movie theater once because I didn’t want to miss any of the movie,” I answered automatically. I opened my mouth to elaborate more before realizing I really didn’t want to, and stared in wide eyed horror at Asterollan. How had I just let that slip like it was nothing? It hadn’t even been the first thing that crossed my mind, because I would never willingly tell anyone about it. I felt my face redden just remembering the moment. “That… I can’t believe I told you that.”

Despite my own embarrassment, he was the one who looked sheepish. “I think I owe you an apology. Raella noticed that I… compel the truth out of people. I was not even aware I was doing it.”

I froze for a moment, thinking of everything I had told him over the past several days. It was true that I had shared everything he had asked, even despite the lack of trust I initially had for him. Even things I would have felt more comfortable withholding. I nodded slowly, feeling strangely violated. “So you decided to test that by asking me about my most humiliating moment?”

“I needed a question that you might not choose to answer honestly. At first I had considered asking something more… intimate. But that seemed inappropriate.”

I sighed, feeling the same level of frustration I had initially had for him. I wondered what kind of intimate question he had considered asking, but did not want to be compelled to answer anything of the sort in the moment.  “Is it something you can learn to control?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. I intend to try, but even if I can’t, well – perhaps everyone can stand to be a little more honest, and I prefer knowing the truth.”

I glared at him, crossing my arms. “If only we could all be privy to everyone’s truths.”

He looked ready to leave, but stopped at my statement and met my glare evenly, calmly. “Is there something you wish to know about me?” For a moment, I was taken aback. Seeing the expression on my face, he said, “It’s only fair. You have been exceedingly honest with me.”

I didn’t even pause to consider my question. “Why did you choose to be a Hunter?”

“Oh? Most women that have seen me without my shirt on are more curious about the scars,” he said, his tone unexpectedly teasing. I raised an eyebrow as I waited for his answer. He fidgeted, suddenly looking uncomfortable, and leaned against the wall. “I came from a very poor family. My father was always driving us into further debt, and when the time came to pay those debts, he offered my mother and I as indentured servants to the household of a minor lord and disappeared. Per the terms, we were legally bound to stay with the family for at least 5 years, but because we were looking at total poverty after that period, my mother extended her contract to 10 years.”

“So you were like slaves?” I asked. I settled onto the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Lyre.

“Being indentured is a contractual agreement. We had more rights than slaves, and knew that our time in service would come to an end, and that we’d be well paid for it. But we did spend a lot of time working alongside the slaves. My mother always sympathized with them. She was a kind woman.” He paused, his gaze becoming unfocused and a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Whenever she had a chance to sneak away some sugar, she would make pulled candy. She would let me work it until it was set, then she would cut it in pieces and share it amongst the other staff and the slaves. She was always particularly fond of children.” I frowned for a moment, until I realized he was basically describing taffy, and I nodded in understanding although he didn’t seem to be paying attention to me.

He seemed especially lost in thought, until I finally said, “None of that explains why you would want to hunt slaves.”

His head jerked slightly as he refocused his eyes on me. “Yes… I was getting to that. There was a slave that managed to be freed – entirely by accident. She had placed her focus down, and another slave had picked it up and used it. When the shock of the Focus breaking had calmed, and the slave realized she was free, she panicked. She was too scared to run, but she was terrified of what staying could mean. My mother was trying to calm her and she lashed out, calling down a telekinetic storm that sent everything in the kitchen flying violently.” He ran his hand down the scar that crossed his face. “This was a kitchen knife. An entire cauldron of boiling water was upended on my mother.”

“But… that was an accident.”

“Yes, but not what happened next.” He grinned mirthlessly. “Two of the other slaves in the kitchen cowered, throwing up barriers to protect themselves, but one other saw the moment for what it was. He grabbed another of the slaves and shoved his Focus into their hands, threatened to bash their heads in if they didn’t try to use it. Then he had his freedom too. The first thing he did was kill my mother.” The mirthless grin disappeared. “Maybe he was taking pity on her. She was so badly burned from the water, she would have died – it may have taken hours, or maybe days. It doesn’t change the fact that I had to listen to her die screaming.”

I felt sick to my stomach imagining what that would be like – seeing your own mother die in front of you. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

His mismatched eyes met mine. “The slave escaped. He took the other, the one that had been freed first, with him. She was still in shock, I think. They ran. The other two slaves were killed so they couldn’t spread the knowledge of how to break the tether, and I believe he was caught and put on display as a warning.”

“What happened to the other slave?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps she made it to the Empire.” Asterollan pushed away from the wall. “I was very angry for a very long time. My mother had been a kind person, and she hadn’t deserved the life she got, or the end she met.” He paused again, drawing in a deep breath. Then he gave a half-hearted smile and added, “Besides, that moment ruined this beautiful face.”

I groaned. “It’s less charming when someone knows they’re beautiful,” I said.

The smile turned a little more genuine. “So you think I’m beautiful,” he teased.

“Yes,” I said immediately. Then I grimaced. “Damn it, I would not have normally said that at all. I think I’m owed another question.”

He snorted. “Ask away.”

“Can you see out of that eye? Or is it just… dead?”

He looked a little taken aback by the question and laughed. “Ah, so we get to the scars. Actually… I did used to be blind out of it. I spent so much of my life learning to overcome and adapt to that half-blindness. But shortly after I started hearing the voice… the vision returned.” He waved a hand briefly in front of his face. “A generous gift.”

“Binocular vision. A most generous gift,” I said – but not knowing the word for binocular I said it in English, and he looked a little confused. I hopped up from the bed and walked over to him, studying the scar on his face curiously. “I wonder, if I focused hard enough, if I’d be able to heal any of the scars…” I said as I reached up to his face.

He grabbed my hand before I could touch him. “I doubt it. And even if you could, I wouldn’t want it.” I tilted my head slightly. “We should keep some of the scars we earn by living.”

I thought briefly of all my own removed scars, and nodded. “I understand,” I said.

I looked at my hand, that he was still holding. “Ah,” he said, and quickly dropped it. Standing this close to him, it was easy to see that we were the same height, and I caught the scent of mint from the cloak he still held, hung over his other arm. He was staring at me intensely for a moment, and then suddenly asked, “Are you in love with the elf?”

A part of me meant to laugh it off and say that I hadn’t known Lyre long enough or well enough to love him. Instead, I simply said, “Yes.” The quickness of the answer, the fact that it was compelled by truth, the answer itself – it all completely surprised me. I stepped back for a moment, staring at the floor, and realized it was true. “Yes,” I repeated, slowly in consideration.

Asterollan smiled at me. “I thought so,” he said. “But I wanted to know for sure.”

I frowned at him. “I think you’ll be owing me a lot of questions before long.”

“I’ll answer them all truthfully,” he said. “But perhaps another night. I’m off to find a different bed.” I opened the door for him and stepped back, and watched him make his way to the stairs to find an available room. I could faintly hear laughter and groaning from the others out in the tavern section. I closed the door quietly and turned back toward the bed, to see that Lyre was sitting up, staring at me.

I froze. I wondered how long he had been listening and how much he comprehended in his drunken state. Regardless, it wouldn’t be a conversation for tonight. I walked over and pushed him gently back. “Go to sleep, Lyre. You’re drunk,” I said. He closed his eyes, nodding slightly, and reached up to place a hand over mine where it still rested against his chest. I stood like that for awhile, until his breathing grew even, feeling his heart beat under my hand.

With a sigh, I finally extricated my hand and walked around to the other side of the bed. Crawling under the blankets, I extinguished the lights, curled onto my side, and forced myself to sleep.


I woke suddenly in the morning to the sound of a familiar scream. It still startled me enough that I sat up, feeling alarmed. “Lucas,” Lyre murmured from where he lay above the blankets next to me. Right – Lucas and his pet spider, that he was terrified of. I chuckled and flopped back down onto the pillow. There was light coming through the window, but it was the dim gray of early morning, when the shadows of night still linger.

I yawned and rubbed at my eyes, my stomach lurching in embarrassed anticipation. “How much of last night do you remember?” I asked tentatively.

“It’s a bit of a blur,” he said, and I almost sighed with relief before he finished with, “But I remember that you love me.” I felt like curling up and dying of embarrassment for a moment. I stayed still, not wanting to look at him, but I felt him pull the blankets back. “Are you hiding on purpose?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Maybe,” I groaned. I turned to see that he was leaning over me, smiling.

Instead of the usual flutter of butterflies that I had expected, my heart instantly calmed at the sight of that smile. I smiled back at him. I felt it right then, the second before he said it – and strangely, despite the brief time that we had known each other, it felt right. “I love you too.”

29. Cassandra

I was having trouble sleeping.

I thought I had been close to reaching a place of safety, but there was still a lot of danger involved. Lucas’s brief conversation still sat with me, but it didn’t worry me the most. I had spent so much time on the run already… if I needed to escape again, it could be done. I had the feeling that Silden and Larina wanted to settle into a normal life of freedom once we reached the Empire, but I knew that Lyre would come with me, especially with how he had reacted to Lucas’s warning. That was a calming thought.

It was everything else that really bothered me. The evil we were meant to seal was still a vague description, hardly any more concrete than what Lyre had told me so long ago when he had guessed I wasn’t from this world. And the scar that I had spotted on Lucas… How had my experience here become so different from theirs? Did it even matter that it was?

But learning about the gods had really clicked things into place and sent my mind buzzing. Raella had pulled me aside at one point, asking about whether I had been hearing voices. It was the chance to come clean and discuss the matter openly, but I hesitated and shook my head. Asterollan, who had been with us as we talked, followed my lead, and did not mention the voice he had been hearing either. Raella warned us that it could be the evil entity that we were needing to seal, and stressed the importance of telling her if we should ever experience something of the sort.

But I knew it wasn’t evil.

Still… Had I been talking to a god this entire time?

In a way, it made sense, but I had never even considered it. The idea of divine beings actually interfering in worldly matters was strange, even a little unsettling. I had never been the religious sort, and back home if anyone had told me they were hearing the voice of God, I would have thought they were crazy.

My mind raced as I lay staring into the fire. Lyre was very close by – he had stayed practically within arms reach since we’d been reunited. It had only been a matter of hours so far, so I wasn’t feeling smothered yet, but I wondered if I would eventually. I half dozed, only to wake and find myself revisiting every moment I had interacted with the voice, straining to recall every detail. I remembered the smell of ozone, the soft breeze that seemed to drift out of nowhere, the power of lightning that seemed to come to me most naturally.

Late into the night, after waking for the umpteenth time, I stood with a sigh and walked over to the pool at the base of the waterfall. I could see that Chase and Zolambi were sitting up, and they watched me curiously, but neither made any move to stop me or talk to me. I splashed some water on my face and stared at my rippling reflection. “Who are you?” I muttered.

I waited a moment in anticipation of an answer. The ripples cleared, the water stilled. All I could hear was the usual sounds of the night – the waterfall and the sound of insects. When nothing happened, I stood, and turned back toward the camp. Fleetingly, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a figure standing behind me in the reflection of the water. I turned around to see if someone had walked up behind me, but I was still very much alone. When I looked back down at the water, there was nothing. I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me. “At least give me a name,” I said in frustration.

I felt something, gentle as a breeze, brush my hair away from my ear. “T’keran,” it whispered, the quality of the speech more present than before. As I lifted my hand to that ear, my fingers brushed against something that sent a strange tingling sensation along my skin. I turned, startled, to briefly see a smiling figure as it pulled its hand away from me – a woman, overwhelmingly tall and thin, lit silvery-blue like a beacon, hair raising slowly around her. She loomed over me for a moment before disappearing, leaving me blinking against the sudden dark. There remained the lingering scent of ozone.

Looking over at camp, I could see that Zolambi was watching me curiously, not at all alarmed. Like he hadn’t seen her at all. I rubbed the still tingling skin of my hand as I started to walk back to the fire. “T’keran,” I repeated.


I didn’t sleep any easier after that, so I was awake to watch the spider arrive. I first heard something softly hit the ground, a quiet thump. When I opened my eyes to see what it was, I noticed that Lyre was sitting up, his head tilted in amusement. When I followed his gaze, I was shocked to see the spider – it was the size of a dog, and the thump had not sounded that heavy. I sat up quickly, but Lyre held a hand out to me. “It’s his pet,” he said, by way of explanation, as the spider carefully crept up on Lucas’s sleeping form.

“A giant jumping spider?” I said the phrase half as a question, and half in simple awe. It dropped something on Lucas, who stirred and turned to look up at it.

And then I jumped when he screamed. The spider jumped as well, up on top of the highest remaining piece of wall, and the others in camp stirred at the noise, waking. Lucas was mumbling in embarrassment under his breath, turning a bright shade of red, his eyes still wide in barely contained terror. “That’s his pet?” I asked Lyre quietly.

“He named it Peter.” I shook my head, watching as Lucas lifted the dead squirrel that had been dropped on him. He sat up and began to try to coax the spider down from the wall, still looking wildly terrified.

Since everyone was awake now, breakfast was prepared and bedrolls and camping gear stowed away. It was strange being in an actual campsite for once, with plenty of supplies and horses to pack them on. The breakfast, which included a stew made from the squirrel the spider had brought for us, was surprisingly delicious. But since my previous meals had been drier travel rations, I figured anything would have been an improvement. Lyre handed over my bag, with the things I had brought with me from the ship. I was glad that I hadn’t lost it all in my fall into the river. It was also strange being surrounded by so many people. I watched them interacting with each other – Lucas was still wide eyed as he talked the spider into staying nearby, and Lexie, the younger girl was teasing him. She tentatively petted the spider, which leaned into her hand with pleasure at the touch. “Awww, Lucas, he loves pets. You should pet him!” Lucas visibly shuddered in revulsion.

Peyton Hobbs stood nearby, which was very strange to me as well. She was watching the exchange, her head tilted slightly and a faint smile on her face. I stared for a moment – she was tall for a woman, something I had never noticed seeing her on screen before, and ridiculously beautiful even without make up. She glanced up, saw me staring, and smiled politely at me. I smiled back, but quickly glanced around at the others, feeling a little embarrassed to have been caught gaping at her.

Asterollan kept mostly to himself, I noticed. It was probably strange to be amongst elves when you hunted them most of your life. It looked like he had finished his morning ritual, so I walked over to him. I had slept in the cloak overnight, and figured it was now time to return it. He gave me a strange look as I handed it back to him, but took it without complaint, swiftly pulling it around his shoulders. “Thank you for letting me borrow it,” I said.

“Why didn’t you tell the elves about the voice you hear?” he asked, ignoring my thanks.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. He frowned. Feeling the need to explain more, I added, “At first I thought I was crazy. But now… maybe I’m just worried over how Raella would react.” He nodded in understanding. Then after a pause, I blurted out, “I saw her. The goddess that speaks to me. Last night.”

“What?” He stared at me, hard, his eyes searching.

“It was only briefly. She told me her name.”

We stood in silence for a moment, interrupted by Greyjon calling, “We’re packed up. Is everyone ready?”

I turned, thinking that Asterollan didn’t have anything to say, when he asked very low, “What was it? Her name.”

“T’keran,” I answered. He repeated it in a low whisper as we joined the others.


Raella obsessed over the map, marking the location of the temple ruins for a future visit. “It’s a great find for the University,” she said. We traveled directly east, hoping to eventually enter the borders of the Empire and hit a road that wasn’t far from it. Zolambi said that from the road, we could determine how far we were from our next destination, which was a small town called Veinwell.

Traveling with a larger group and horses was slower going. It took us a few days to reach the road and get our bearings. It was a simple paved stone road running north and south. As the others tried to determine our exact location from their map and a nearby mile marker, I stood next to Lyre as he stared down at it. Silden clapped him on the shoulder. “An Empire road,” Silden said. “We’re really here.”

We traveled south along the road. Veinwell was a small town, surrounded by a high stone wall. “Are they afraid of getting attacked out here?” I asked curiously as we stood just outside the gates. There was some hassle as the guards seemed reluctant to let a giant spider in the walls.

“Most cities built walls during the Fracture,” Chase explained. I remembered Lyre describing the Fracture as a massive civil war and nodded. Once Greyjon and Raella argued our way in, we traveled immediately to an inn just inside the town walls, where the group had agreed to meet with someone. He was young – hardly more than a teenager – and had brought their wagon ahead for them from the last town they had stayed at.

Raella secured our rooms for the night and the innkeeper cleared out the other clientele. There was some grumbling as the tavern’s patrons poured out onto the street outside. “All this for us?” I asked, feeling a little guilty.

“They’ve done this every time,” Lexie said, apparently already used to it. We were served a meal – perhaps the most delicious I’d ever had, but I suspected everything was going to taste delicious to me after so many weeks of hard tack, mystery soup, and jerky. As I tore into some bread – soft, warm bread, that I slathered with butter – they discussed the rooming situation for the night.

“They have 6 rooms in all,” Raella said, after taking a sip of her glass of wine.

Zolambi nodded to my friends. “If you three would rather get situated in you new home, I can take you to the organization that handles that for slaves escaping the human lands. They’ll provide lodgings for us for the evening.”

Larina beamed, squeezing Silden’s hand briefly. “We would love that,” she said. She glanced over at Lyre. “Though I don’t think all three of us will be going with you.”

Lyre smiled, half sheepish, half sad. “I’m staying with Cassandra,” he said simply. He placed a hand briefly on my shoulder as he spoke. Despite his previous promise, I realized I must have held some apprehension that he was going to leave me once we reached the Empire, an apprehension I didn’t realize was there until it melted away at his words. Glancing up from my food, I could see Raella’s lips thinned into a false smile.

Zolambi nodded respectfully to Lyre. When the meal came to an end, he prepared to lead Silden and Larina away, and Lyre and I followed them to the wide entrance of the inn. We stood for a moment in companionable silence, and then Larina stepped forward and hugged me. When she pulled back there were tears in her eyes, and despite myself I realized my own tears were starting to well up too. I hugged her again. “I’m so happy for you both,” I said very softly to her. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Silden wrapped us both in a hug. “Thank you for freeing us,” he said, his voice slightly choking as he spoke. Lyre was standing back a bit, but Silden grabbed his shoulder and pulled him in too. I laughed at our awkward crush of bodies, and finally managed to push away. “Take care of her,” Silden said to Lyre.

Lyre grinned. “And you take care of her,” he said, nodding toward Larina, who blushed as she sidled up next to Silden.

Silden looked down at her, his eyes full of warmth. “Always.”

After a little more well wishing and goodbyes, they finally left, following Zolambi. Lyre and I watched them walk down the street before returning to the main tavern room, where most of the remaining group remained. Raella had retreated to the room she claimed for herself, and Lucas had also retreated to a room with his pet spider, which the innkeeper did not seem happy to have inside. From the way Lucas warily eyed the spider, I had the feeling he wasn’t very happy about it either, but seemed to be trying to make it work. I didn’t see Asterollan either.

As Lyre and I returned, I grabbed the bottle of wine that Raella had left behind and asked the barkeep for a few glasses. Peyton and Greyjon were talking companionably about past skirmishes he had been involved in as a Captain in a place called Kimber, and Chase was turning it into a drinking game at Lexie’s goading. She was taking a sip of her drink every time she suspected he was embellishing his story, and as he caught on, his stories became less believable. It wasn’t long before she was flushed nearly as red as her curls.

Lyre and I listened in, not quite joining the conversation, but laughing at some of Greyjon’s taller tales. I poured some of the wine for us. He looked at it curiously, tilting the glass to examine it. “Do you not like drinking?” I asked.

“I’ve served wine to Wrasker and his guests before. I’ve never had any.” He shrugged and took a long pull from the glass. I watched to see his reaction as he drank most of the cup. Curious, I sipped from my own glass – it was a very sweet red, but the burn of the alcohol was notable. It was strong.

I brushed my fingers on his wrist as he placed the empty cup down on the table. “You might not want to drink that so fast,” I said.

“It’s sweet,” he said, smiling softly at the glass. “Some of the slaves used to make their own liquor, but it was harsh. Bitter.” I felt a little relieved that he had some experience with alcohol at least. He poured another glass.

Plastic

The cards were “obvious plastic surgery” and “person with a very limited vocabulary”

This was hastily done in 30 minutes and not expounded upon because Baldur’s Gate 3 released a month earlier than I was expecting and that is just my life now. (Or that’s the excuse, anyway)


          At first, it had seemed like something out of Dracula. Philip had been hired to help notarize a whole slew of legal documents for a wealthy individual, and because he was a traveling notary and the process would take several days, he was offered a place to stay within the man’s mansion. Dr. Grady had insisted – the house was remote and far from the nearest town, which was so small it didn’t even have a proper hotel. Considering the prospect of making a daily two hour drive along the twisting mountain roads he had come in on, Philip had been grateful for the offer.

          He had somewhat reconsidered when he had met the woman that was assisting them. Celeste didn’t speak at all – only gestured with her hands. And she was wearing what looked to be a porcelain mask – smooth and pale and inexpressive. It was strange and slightly off putting, but he made no comments. Because she said nothing to him, he avoided making eye contact and didn’t speak much to her. She made him nervous.

          By the second day, Philip realized that the mansion seemed mysteriously absent of people besides Celeste and Dr. Grady. He didn’t think Celeste was the one cooking the meals that she brought to him, but when he had wandered into the kitchen the previous evening, there had been no one present. His room had been tidied while he had been working, and the towels had been refreshed. But he saw no staff. The grounds were meticulously cared for outside, but he saw no gardeners. The place was expansive enough that he knew for a fact that there had to be people that took care of these things, but they seemed to stay out of sight.

          The house was large and beautiful, and everything was bright – the exact opposite of a gothic nightmare. The documentation he was working on was very normal, except for the volume of work – which made sense, as Dr. Grady owned and managed quite a number of assets, all inherited from a family whose wealth stretched back generations. Philip did his best to put it from his mind, and very quickly the work came to an end.

          It was his last day. Celeste was showing him out to his car – which had already been pulled around to the front entrance and parked to wait for him. He could see that there was someone sitting in the front seat of the car. After tossing his overnight bag into the backseat, he turned around and looked up at Celeste. “It has been a pleasure,” he mumbled politely, finally looking her in the face.

          He froze in horror as he studied her, really seeing for the first time that it wasn’t a mask at all. Her face was so still and placid, her skin so smooth that it appeared like porcelain – but it was her actual skin, so frozen that it looked like glass. He had expected to see the edge of the mask, detached and floating above her eyes, but there was no space between because it wasn’t a mask – her eyes, the only expressive part of her, shifted swiftly, studying his face. He heard his car door slam, and turned to see another woman, walking around to bring him his keys. He stared in horror as he realized her face was also similarly frozen, her eyes staring at him warily as he swiveled his head back and forth, his mouth agape.

          He snatched his keys from the lifted hand, perhaps a little harder than was necessary, and snapped his mouth shut. Forcing a strained smile, he thanked them again, several times, perhaps a touch too profusely. Before he knew it, he was in his car, driving away.

          He glanced into his rearview mirror, watching the two women stare silently at his departing vehicle. He could see others appearing – stepping out of hedges, standing at windows. And though he couldn’t make out their details, he felt certain that they all stared from underneath similarly plasticized faces, all silently watching him drive away.