babies were in at the Bronx Zoo, demonstrated by the bronzed webbed baby shoes of some exotic bird; Dr. Rajashkharappa guaranteed he could end your foot pain for only sixty dollars; and the language institute could teach immigrants English in only six months, provided they could read the ad to begin with.
Lelani hit the rubber strip again, and seemed amused by the sound of the bell. Seth studied her and realized a change in himself. Through her eyes everything took on a fresh perspective, as though the most obvious things were new and exotic. Sometimes she came off like a genius. But earlier, they had passed a street construction site and the pipes and wires beneath the street had enthralled her. “Everything flows here,” she had said. Her outlook forced Seth to reconsider things he’d often taken for granted. Although a novel feeling, it wasn’t worth going to prison for. Now, Seth needed a place to stay until he could sort out the mess that had become his life. Beyond that, he couldn’t care less if he ever saw her again.
“Please signal a stop,” Lelani asked.
Seth slapped the strip.
As before, Lelani effortlessly picked up Officer MacDonnell and carried him off the bus. The driver shouted for whoever to “Cut that out!”
Lelani handed a fold-out transit map of New York to Seth.
“Find Mayflower Avenue,” she said.
Seth pointed the way.
They passed Italian bakeries and delis, bodegas, dry cleaners, and Korean grocers, all gated shut at that late hour. A bar’s canned music spilled onto the street along with a few stumbling patrons. The vibe was less claustrophobic than in Seth’s neighborhood. Even in a cold drizzle at this time of night, Avenue A would be jumping with partygoers, diners, bar hoppers, dealers, addicts, musicians, artists, police, and transients. At the time Alphabet City had teemed with the denizens of eastern and southern Europe, huddled in rear tenements, the tranquil street they currently walked on had been farmland. This was where people who craved a slower pace came to settle. All the better, Seth thought. No one around to question their business.
“So these guys we fought,” Seth said while they walked, “they blew up my apartment and killed Joe?”
“They thought Joe was you. It was a sloppy job.”
“They’re not … normal.”
“‘Normal’ is a relative term.”
“I mean, they’re freaks.”
“The swordsman is human. At least biologically.”
So it would come down to space aliens. She gave off that “mother ship” vibe.
“A desert warrior, probably Verakhoon,” she finished.
“So what planet did the other two come from?”
She threw him a furrowed glance to imply he was speaking gibberish. “The big one is likely descended from frost giants. I’m sure even you noted his size.”
“Frost giant? Like from an ice planet?”
“Star systems are too far apart to make travel between them practical. The odds of even a generational vessel completing a mission are approximately twenty-seven million, four hundred eighty-three thousand to one.”
“That a fact?” Seth checked her ears for points.
“Is there something wrong?” Lelani asked.
“Never mind. What about the little gray guy?”
“He’s part troll. Trolls are underground dwellers—excellent night vision, highly sensitive to light. Their skin is a strange hybrid of clay and organic flesh. It can bend and stretch to fantastic proportions, a trait developed to survive in their cramped universe. Their bones are soft, like cartilage, and a hormone they release at will makes their muscles, organs, and ligaments as malleable as putty. The ooze on their skin is a runoff of this process. I think it originates from their bone marrow. It’s valued by magic users as a catalyst for spells. It’s also extremely flammable, which is not a problem when you live in damp underground caves.”
“Aren’t you lil’ Ms. Encyclopedia Freakanica?” Lelani ignored the snub. Seth realized that she
Lelani hit the rubber strip again, and seemed amused by the sound of the bell. Seth studied her and realized a change in himself. Through her eyes everything took on a fresh perspective, as though the most obvious things were new and exotic. Sometimes she came off like a genius. But earlier, they had passed a street construction site and the pipes and wires beneath the street had enthralled her. “Everything flows here,” she had said. Her outlook forced Seth to reconsider things he’d often taken for granted. Although a novel feeling, it wasn’t worth going to prison for. Now, Seth needed a place to stay until he could sort out the mess that had become his life. Beyond that, he couldn’t care less if he ever saw her again.
“Please signal a stop,” Lelani asked.
Seth slapped the strip.
As before, Lelani effortlessly picked up Officer MacDonnell and carried him off the bus. The driver shouted for whoever to “Cut that out!”
Lelani handed a fold-out transit map of New York to Seth.
“Find Mayflower Avenue,” she said.
Seth pointed the way.
They passed Italian bakeries and delis, bodegas, dry cleaners, and Korean grocers, all gated shut at that late hour. A bar’s canned music spilled onto the street along with a few stumbling patrons. The vibe was less claustrophobic than in Seth’s neighborhood. Even in a cold drizzle at this time of night, Avenue A would be jumping with partygoers, diners, bar hoppers, dealers, addicts, musicians, artists, police, and transients. At the time Alphabet City had teemed with the denizens of eastern and southern Europe, huddled in rear tenements, the tranquil street they currently walked on had been farmland. This was where people who craved a slower pace came to settle. All the better, Seth thought. No one around to question their business.
“So these guys we fought,” Seth said while they walked, “they blew up my apartment and killed Joe?”
“They thought Joe was you. It was a sloppy job.”
“They’re not … normal.”
“‘Normal’ is a relative term.”
“I mean, they’re freaks.”
“The swordsman is human. At least biologically.”
So it would come down to space aliens. She gave off that “mother ship” vibe.
“A desert warrior, probably Verakhoon,” she finished.
“So what planet did the other two come from?”
She threw him a furrowed glance to imply he was speaking gibberish. “The big one is likely descended from frost giants. I’m sure even you noted his size.”
“Frost giant? Like from an ice planet?”
“Star systems are too far apart to make travel between them practical. The odds of even a generational vessel completing a mission are approximately twenty-seven million, four hundred eighty-three thousand to one.”
“That a fact?” Seth checked her ears for points.
“Is there something wrong?” Lelani asked.
“Never mind. What about the little gray guy?”
“He’s part troll. Trolls are underground dwellers—excellent night vision, highly sensitive to light. Their skin is a strange hybrid of clay and organic flesh. It can bend and stretch to fantastic proportions, a trait developed to survive in their cramped universe. Their bones are soft, like cartilage, and a hormone they release at will makes their muscles, organs, and ligaments as malleable as putty. The ooze on their skin is a runoff of this process. I think it originates from their bone marrow. It’s valued by magic users as a catalyst for spells. It’s also extremely flammable, which is not a problem when you live in damp underground caves.”
“Aren’t you lil’ Ms. Encyclopedia Freakanica?” Lelani ignored the snub. Seth realized that she
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