doctors were summoned for those with money. Justus came from a poor family,
and his own mother had succumbed to a feverish illness at twenty-seven.
He slowly peeled away her wet socks and noticed her chalky-white feet. The boots she’d worn
the other night at the club were tucked in the corner of the room, and Justus grew angry with
himself for having made her walk to the car. He should have carried her.
His fingers curled warmly around her ankles and Page suddenly flew up with lightning speed,
clutching her stomach. Justus stepped back, afraid he’d crossed a line of professionalism with the
Relic like the incident at the club. When he saw her face sour, he grabbed a small waste can from
the bathroom. She bent over, and without a word, vomited into it. While it should have disgusted
him, he rubbed his hand across her back soothingly.
Strands of hair clung to her sweaty face, covering the ruddy mark around her eye that made
him want to put Slater into the ground.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly.
“You’re ill, not sorry. Will you permit me to help you, Page? Look at these bottles and tell me
which one will heal you.”
She tapped her finger on a milky, green liquid and Justus filled the small plastic cap.
Why were her living conditions inadequate and small? Relics had an advantage over many
Breeds in that they could earn a respectable living through the wealth of their clients, acquiring a
substantial income. Sensors were traders, and Shifters often ran their own companies, although
they felt inherited land outweighed monetary gain. But Relics, they possessed knowledge that was
sought after. When the parents died, the money exchanged hands to the next in line. Why did
Page live in a one-bedroom apartment that could barely accommodate his car?
He had HALO business to attend to, but those plans dissipated the second Page stripped out of
her pants. She was oblivious that anyone else was in the room, eyes closed as she kicked off her
jeans.
Her state of mind bothered him. Women in this condition were vulnerable and anyone could
enter the house. It happened all the time, and human television used it as nighttime
entertainment. What honor would he have in leaving her alone? It plagued his conscience, even
though she was only a Relic.
Justus rubbed his smooth jaw and returned to her side, helping her out of her shirt. She might
have thought him a lech, but Justus had seen more women naked than he could count, so it
hardly mattered.
Hardly.
He changed the wastebasket and placed it beside the bed. Then he stood by a small table with
his arms folded, deciding what to do.
That morning he had dressed himself in a cream-colored shirt with a wide opening in the front
and drawstrings. Women liked this look on him and thought it was romantic, so he’d chosen
carefully when assembling his wardrobe. Now such trivialities hardly mattered.
In the corner, a brown sitting chair looked like a favorite spot with a book on the armrest and a
knitted blanket folded over the back. Justus could have taken a seat, but his feet became cement
blocks.
He thought about leaving. He thought about how frail humans were. He thought about the
dagger strapped to his lower leg. He thought about Slater.
***
“Wow,” I remarked, staring at my phone.
“What is it?” Novis asked, dipping a chicken strip into his milkshake.
I wrinkled my nose. “Now that’s just plain disgusting.”
“You mixed and mingled.”
“Yes, but there are rules.”
His smile thinned out. “Yes… rules. I thought you didn’t care for rules?”
“Don’t blame me if you get sick.” I set my phone on the table beside the glass ketchup bottle.
“Justus sent me a message. He said Page took a turn for the worse and he’s going to stay for a
while. I hope it’s not serious.” I looked up at Novis. “We think she might have the flu.”
Novis nodded. “Centuries ago, we didn’t have medical care for such simple things.
and his own mother had succumbed to a feverish illness at twenty-seven.
He slowly peeled away her wet socks and noticed her chalky-white feet. The boots she’d worn
the other night at the club were tucked in the corner of the room, and Justus grew angry with
himself for having made her walk to the car. He should have carried her.
His fingers curled warmly around her ankles and Page suddenly flew up with lightning speed,
clutching her stomach. Justus stepped back, afraid he’d crossed a line of professionalism with the
Relic like the incident at the club. When he saw her face sour, he grabbed a small waste can from
the bathroom. She bent over, and without a word, vomited into it. While it should have disgusted
him, he rubbed his hand across her back soothingly.
Strands of hair clung to her sweaty face, covering the ruddy mark around her eye that made
him want to put Slater into the ground.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly.
“You’re ill, not sorry. Will you permit me to help you, Page? Look at these bottles and tell me
which one will heal you.”
She tapped her finger on a milky, green liquid and Justus filled the small plastic cap.
Why were her living conditions inadequate and small? Relics had an advantage over many
Breeds in that they could earn a respectable living through the wealth of their clients, acquiring a
substantial income. Sensors were traders, and Shifters often ran their own companies, although
they felt inherited land outweighed monetary gain. But Relics, they possessed knowledge that was
sought after. When the parents died, the money exchanged hands to the next in line. Why did
Page live in a one-bedroom apartment that could barely accommodate his car?
He had HALO business to attend to, but those plans dissipated the second Page stripped out of
her pants. She was oblivious that anyone else was in the room, eyes closed as she kicked off her
jeans.
Her state of mind bothered him. Women in this condition were vulnerable and anyone could
enter the house. It happened all the time, and human television used it as nighttime
entertainment. What honor would he have in leaving her alone? It plagued his conscience, even
though she was only a Relic.
Justus rubbed his smooth jaw and returned to her side, helping her out of her shirt. She might
have thought him a lech, but Justus had seen more women naked than he could count, so it
hardly mattered.
Hardly.
He changed the wastebasket and placed it beside the bed. Then he stood by a small table with
his arms folded, deciding what to do.
That morning he had dressed himself in a cream-colored shirt with a wide opening in the front
and drawstrings. Women liked this look on him and thought it was romantic, so he’d chosen
carefully when assembling his wardrobe. Now such trivialities hardly mattered.
In the corner, a brown sitting chair looked like a favorite spot with a book on the armrest and a
knitted blanket folded over the back. Justus could have taken a seat, but his feet became cement
blocks.
He thought about leaving. He thought about how frail humans were. He thought about the
dagger strapped to his lower leg. He thought about Slater.
***
“Wow,” I remarked, staring at my phone.
“What is it?” Novis asked, dipping a chicken strip into his milkshake.
I wrinkled my nose. “Now that’s just plain disgusting.”
“You mixed and mingled.”
“Yes, but there are rules.”
His smile thinned out. “Yes… rules. I thought you didn’t care for rules?”
“Don’t blame me if you get sick.” I set my phone on the table beside the glass ketchup bottle.
“Justus sent me a message. He said Page took a turn for the worse and he’s going to stay for a
while. I hope it’s not serious.” I looked up at Novis. “We think she might have the flu.”
Novis nodded. “Centuries ago, we didn’t have medical care for such simple things.
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