Gryphons
Chapter Seven

Rating: R
Category: Original Fiction
Warnings: Generally dysfunctional but somewhat endearing characters.
Summary: Dahli has a plan… not a good one, mind, but a plan.
Notes: The conversation between Draephus and Vesper is very, VERY, ‘Shane’. Actually the one between Dahli and Draephus is, too.

Gawd I miss that girl.

This chapter is accompanied by an illustration by Animama

Draephus opened his eyes, feeling pain envelop him like tight steel band around his chest. He shifted, trying to get comfortable, but was unable to find a position that was any better. In fact a couple of them were decidedly worse. He reached for the bedside table in which he kept his needle and drugs, but gave himself only a very small amount, just enough to take the edge off the ache in his bones. He had to call Vesper. He needed to talk to him, and he couldn’t do that if he was too high to talk.

“Bacca. Telcom.”

The Faylan made a rude noise and shook his pretty head. Draephus sighed.

“Bacca, please don’t make me argue with you.”

Bacca made a series of low ‘rrrrrrr-rrrrrrrrrr-rrrr’ noises.

“Well who’s got the ‘com, then?”

“Hhhrrrrpht.”

“Well go tell Raski to bring it here when he’s done.”

Bacca hopped off the bed to do as he was asked, returning in just a few minutes with Raski. The Faylan hopped onto his usual perch on the bed and settled down, while Raski sat carefully on the edge of the bed, looking into Draephus’ eyes.

“What happened?” Raski asked. “Do you realize you went mental on a little girl?”

“Don’t yell at me, Rask, please.”

Raski’s eyes were blue ice. “You’re lucky you’re drawing air. Now would you care to share with me what came over you last night?”

Draephus squeezed his eyes shut. “Vesper’s not coming home. I called last night and some guy answered and said that Vesper was with him now, and he’s not coming back. And I kept trying to call, and… I went nuts. I came apart, I… I remember sitting in my vehicle and Dahli saying she would get someone and… that’s about it. What do you mean I went mental on a little girl? I didn’t hurt her, did I?”

“No, according to her you didn’t lay a hand on her. But you scared the life out of her. What were you doing to break your hands?”

“I… I think I picked a fight with your conni. Raski…”

Raski swore quietly, grinding his teeth. He picked the telcom up and dialled a number, listening to a distant ring.

“Heia?”

“Heia Vesper? Raski. Just wanted to thank you for the brilliant job of emotionally destroying Draephus. Really good. Very thorough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about having the guy you’re shacked up with tell Draephus that you’re not coming back. Really classy. I guess that makes up for the one time he slept with me.”

Vesper sounded horrified. “What guy? What are you talking about? Who…?”

Raski hung up, and passed the ‘com to Draephus. “Here. You two fight, I’m going to go into the kitchen and scream before I make you lunch and possibly dump poison in it.”

Draephus watched him go, and sighed heavily. “Šukat,” he muttered quietly, answering the ‘com as it rang. Vesper was already screaming.

“I never said I wasn’t coming back!”

“Vesper…”

“What is going on? WHO said I wasn’t coming back? When did you call?”

“Last night, really late. It would have been late morning where you are. A man answered and said he was your new husband and you were not coming back and I should just leave you alone.”

Vesper struggled to think, then put the ‘com down. Draephus could hear him yelling at someone, and the person shouting back.

“Mirlai! Mirlai you šukating waste of meat did you tell Draephus you were my husband and I wasn’t coming back?”

“Maybe. Why? He hurt you, didn’t he? Let him… VESPER!”

Draephus heard the loud explosion of a large hand gun discharging, and the frantic sound of someone fleeing the room. Then the ‘com was picked up.

“That was my cousin, Mirlai. And if I was a better shot his alleged brains would be all over my wall.”

“It’s not true?” Draephus asked, his throat tight, eyes burning with tears.

“No, it’s not true. Draephus do you honestly think for one moment if I was going to leave you I would do it in such a vile manner?”

“I dunno,” he muttered. “Sorta thought I deserved it after what I did.”

Vesper laughed quietly. “Draephus if I was ever going to leave you, I would have done it by now. And I would tell you I was going. Sleeping with Raski doesn’t quite qualify. Yes, I was angry about it, yes we had a huge fight, but… I know what he means to you. Truth to tell I have been counting on it, because I love you. I want you to live. Don’t you understand that? All I want is to see the light come back to your eyes.”

“But then why did your cousin..?”

Vesper sighed. “He probably thought he was doing me a favour, giving you a taste of your own medicine, who knows. It’s none of his business what goes on in our family. Draephus I am so sorry, are you okay?”

“No,” he pouted. “I had a fit and now everyone hates me.”

“Oh no one hates you.” Pause. “What did you do?”

“Broke my hands beating apart Raski’s dashboard, killed a phone, and apparently started a fight in a club that resulted in me getting my vehicle stolen after I was kicked into my own moat.”

Vesper turned to mush. “Awww… so you do care about me, you big brute.”

“I love you. I just want you here with me. I guess now you can’t come home, the last shuttle north would have left yesterday, and there won’t be another one until the rainy season is about to start.”

“You’re right,” said Vesper softly. “But it will be okay. I’m doing really well. That’s where I was when you called – at the doctor’s office. I’ve got a few tremors and some shortness of breath, but the doctor says for my age and considering how advanced the illness is, I could likely have another five years.”

Draephus sat up, forgetting the aches in his body. “Five years?! Vesper that’s fantastic! They were talking months when you saw the doctors up here!”

“Well they have different ways of treating the illness here, and the warm air helps, too, makes it a lot easier to breathe.”

“Maybe we should look into moving down there, then.”

Vesper laughed. “Um, no. I am not enamoured of all the things they have down here with multiple legs, many of which are truly huge. I woke up this morning thinking there was a stray cat on my bed and it was a bloody cave spider.”

“Yeah they do get big down there,” Draephus grinned. “Okay, in that case I’ll look into making the castle warmer. Oh baby I am so glad you’re okay. And that you love me.”

“Of course I love you.”

Draephus lay back down, wincing in pain. “At the risk of starting another fight, if you’re going to be okay then why are you still nudging me in Raski’s direction?”

“Purely selfish reasons. He was talking about getting an artificial uterus. So you’re going to get him pregnant so I can play with the kids before handing them all tired and pukey with full diapers back to their mother.”

Draephus rolled his eyes. “Vesper, I’m barely housebroken; do you honestly think I can be trusted with a baby?”

“No,” Vesper laughed.

“Well Raski and I talked and… we’re waiting. We both love you. We’re not getting together until… it’s… appropriate. I’m not sure what the word is.”

“Until I’ve cacked.”

“Vesper can you please not...?”

“Just a sec.” There was the explosive discharge of a firearm. “Šukating spiders.”

“Vesper, stop shooting things.”

“Yup. Just let me get this last one.”

Draephus winced as the gun went off again. “Baby stop shooting the spiders.” He smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry my cousin put you through that, I don’t know what he’s using for brains. Week-old shaumaus, I think. You rest. Get better, and fix Raski’s conni. Tomorrow I’m heading for Trae Dae Mu, I’ll be out of communication for a couple weeks, but I’ll call you next chance I get.”

“Okay babe. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Vesper hung up, and Draephus shut off the ‘com and set it aside. He looked up as Raski came into the room, carrying a plate of food.

“So how are things?” he asked.

“Good,” said Draephus. “Vesper still loves me, and the new treatments the doctors have him on down there are really helping.”

“So all is well.”

“Yup. Better than I could have hoped for.”

“Good. Now if you don’t mind my asking, WHY THE ŠUKAT DID YOU KILL MY VEHICLE?”

Draephus grabbed Raski and tossed him onto the bed, stroking his hands over his body, kissing him passionately. When it ended they were both breathless and aroused, staring at each other with want.

“I thought we were waiting,” said Raski.

“Yeah but Vesper could live another five years. I have to remind you of what you’re waiting for.” Draephus kissed him. “Vesper was hoping we’d breed.”

“Oh suddenly you want a baby. Well forget it; no one’s giving me a baby. I’ve got C-3 and C-4 both, they don’t let you carry a baby with those viruses zipping through your bloodstream. I’m lucky I can walk upright.” The pale blue eyes glinted. “We could probably get away with putting one in you, though.”

Draephus stared down at Raski, wanting nothing more than to give him everything his heart desired. He was going to have to tell him that he too was afflicted with an ailment that would ultimately prove fatal, but… not right now. Not now. They both needed a break from the pain and angst. Draephus kissed him softly.

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll hash it all out later. In the meantime I have to heal up, then…” He trailed a finger over Raski’s fine features, “I have to find your conni a new dashboard and telcom.”

“Yeah, you do, groutnoll.” Raski kissed him. “But I love you anyway.”

They gazed at each other, Draephus feeling himself growing hard, want warring with what was right.

“Gonna be a tough five years,” he said.

Raski brought one long leg up, moving his hips beneath Draephus. “Very tough. Long and hard, one might say.”

“Raski…”

“You started it.”

“Sadly I have to end it, too.” He kissed his throat. “But it’s not because you aren’t turning me on so badly that I think I’ll never be able to walk again.”

“Then kiss me, and we’ll eat. Then to make sure we behave, I’ll go home.”

***---***

Dahli awoke sometime around the hour she would have usually been coming home from school. She fell out of bed and dragged her tired body to the bathroom, her thoughts wrapped up in having a long, hot bath. She filled the tub and more or less fell into it, being a bit too soul-weary to worry much about grace. There were times when one needed to flop; this was definitely one of them.

She submerged herself, coming up a moment later, sputtering. She pushed her hand through her wet hair, then reached for the soap. It was at that moment she recalled what she had done with Draephus' conni. Her eyes grew wide, and she paused as she realised that, yes, she had the man's vehicle. She had stashed it in an abandoned garage, next to a burned-out house. It was only a few blocks from where she lived, sitting in patient grandeur with its key still in the ignition. A slow nasty smile crossed Dahli's face. She knew what she was doing that evening.

***---***

It was past dark when Dahli ran up the stairs to Diza's house, knocking at the door. She heard the slow, heavy pace of Diza's father coming down the hallway. Then he opened the door.

"Well heia," he said as he saw her there. "How are you?"

"Oh fine. Can Diza come out to play?" Dahli grinned at the childish expression, the old man smiling back at her.

"Sure," he said in his slow manner, which always made him sound as though he was uncertain. His eyes moved to the sleeve of Dahli's jacket. "That's quite a stain."

The blood had not completely come out. There were still traces of it on the sleeve and shoulder; faded, but still visible.

"I know," said Dahli, "a friend of mine borrowed it and got something on it."

The man nodded, then turned and wandered further into the house. "Diza, Dahli is here."

Diza came downstairs, grabbing her coat as Dahli made a motion for her to go outside. Diza called goodnight to her father as she walked out the door.

"So what are we up to tonight?" she asked as they walked down the steps.

Dahli was grinning. "We're going for a ride."

"Ride? You got your grandmother's conni?"

"Better. Come on."

The two ran down the street, Dahli leading Diza as they turned the corner to where the grey conni sat. From the front there was no sign of the damage, and it was obviously an expensive machine. Diza prepared to walk past it when Dahli grabbed her sleeve.

"Where are you going? This is it."

Diza stared at the grey conni. "Dahli," she said, reaching out to touch the hood, "where did you get this?"

"Stole it. Come on."

"Stole it! Did you?"

"Yeah. Come on." Dahli got into the conni, shutting the door and starting the engine. It came into life with a soft rumble as Diza got in.

"Where did you get this?" she asked. "Whose is it?"

"I told you, I stole it." The conni pulled away from the curb with frictionless ease, prowling down the road. "Rides better than my grandmother's, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it's great. What's this stain all over my seat?"

"Blood."

"Are you seeeee-rious?" Diza's voice went up in pitch and volume.

"Yeah, take a look at it."

"WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?"

"Look, nobody died, okay? I haven't killed anybody. The seat just happens to be stained and it just happens to be blood."

Diza sighed, shaking her head. "One of these days, Dahli Sandiniti, you are going to get into big trouble."

"Maybe," said Dahli, grinning. “Let’s drive by Lyrellyn CZim-Relyn’s house.”

***---***

The prospect of getting into trouble didn't make Dahli give back the conni, and as the days went by and no one came for it, she grew confident that there was no trouble coming. She and her friends took the conni down back roads, ploughing through brambles and swamps, and over small streams. They burned rubber on the paved sections of the decrepit old roads, tires screaming as they churned up clouds of blue smoke. They bounced it through bushes, over knolls in the road, and scraped it past trees. Diza tried questioning Dahli about how she had acquired the conni, but got no more information other than it was stolen.

They kept the conni hidden a few blocks from Dahli's home, housing it in the old garage. They drove it to school, parking it always out of sight. They took friends joy-riding in it, and, on a suggestion by Czamkiar, they spray-painted the hood with Bad Influence's stylized logo. They covered the body with surrealistic feralykes, leering figures, and a board fence for background. They dubbed the conni the `Creeping Malaise', after a song by afore-mentioned Bad Influence. Dahli wondered frequently as she and her buddies redecorated the conni exactly when Draephus was going to try to reclaim it. Perhaps he had given it up as lost, or maybe he was hoping she would give it back. There was no way she was bringing it back now. Once or twice, as she flung open the doors of the old garage and saw the still-noble vehicle, desecrated as it was, she felt small pangs of guilt and worry, but she quickly shrugged them off. After all, he could afford it.

***---***

The Creeping Malaise was about to find a less playful, more sinister, use, though the warm Sevenday Dahli drove it to school she was unaware of this. It was simply an average day, with the promise of a hot respite as she parked in the usual place. She and Diza planned to drive into the woods, dragging Randish and Czamkiar along for good measure, and spend some time out there, maybe build a fire and catch some fish to toast. As she jogged up the stairs to the school, feeling the warmth of the day on her back, the last thing on her mind was dead Faylans.

The day had progressed normally enough, until science class. There had been the usual run-ins with other students she didn't like, work to be done and assignments to be passed in. It would have been a wholly forgettable day if she had not walked into the science room after lunch to see the half-grown, reddish body lying cold and motionless on its board.

She stopped, staring at the dead Faylan. It had an odd, dehydrated look to it, even the eyes, which she could see under partially open lids, looked dried. The bright, livid green had faded to some nondescript, dead colour. The dark red hair even looked dead, dry and cold. She stepped closer to the body, oblivious to the other students who stood there. As she drew near she saw the tattoo on the right forearm, an identifying number which sat beneath a row of symbols indicating the creature's age, owner, and grade. This one was stamped a lab animal. Others, more finely built with superior parentage were stamped as pet, show or breeding stock. A Faylan's whole life was dictated by a series of marks burned into its skin. Evidence of experiments took the shape of half-closed scars on the abdomen, some long and thin, other more like punctures. The body had an underdeveloped, weak look, as though it had little opportunity for exercise during its brief life.

Dahli turned in horror from the body on the board, feeling a sickness in her stomach. She sensed the unusual silence of her classmates as they also spotted the body, gathering around and staring at the dead, cold form. Somehow she knew that they hadn't expected it to look as much like them as it did.

Duone Bathers entered the classroom, dropping his books and papers on the table as he always did, not paying much heed to his students. Dahli stared at him as he sorted through the papers, and realized she had never truly felt hate before this moment. Duone Bathers glanced up and caught her gaze, and was actually startled by the look she gave him. The disgust, the hate, the hot loathing she felt shone through her green eyes like a beacon, and he dropped his eyes back to the stack of paper. Dahli suddenly walked forward, marching straight up to the desk. Her anger had taken over to the point where any respect she may have had for the man had gone out the window.

"That," she said, pointing to the Faylan, "is the most disgustingly sick thing I have ever seen."

Duone Bathers let out an irritated sigh. "Dahli, that was a laboratory animal, their purpose is to be used in experiments to aid research."

"Their purpose," said Dahli, her voice rising, "is to be on another planet, leaping from tree to tree, scratching, hunting, barking, having babies and carrying on as they have for thousands of years!"

"There are plenty of them left on Fayla." said Duone Bathers. "There's no reason why we can't use a few, they're not an endangered species."

"I'm sure the ones in the labs don't feel that way."

"Dahli," the man straightened and looked at her. "Go to your seat. On Oneday we'll dissect it. If you have problems with that, I suggest you talk to the principal."

"Šukat the principal!" Dahli yelled, startling even herself. "Šukat the principal and most of all, ŠUKAT YOU!"

The entire class was absolutely silent. Duone Bathers just stared stupidly at her, unable to believe his ears. Dahli herself was a little overwhelmed by what she had just done, uttering one of the choicest of foul words to her Duone. For a long moment, nothing breathed within the class Then Duone Bathers broke the silence.

"Look, I can see you're upset," he said quietly. "Why don't you just take the rest of the day off, start your respite early."

"I'll do that," said Dahli.

She turned and strode from the classroom. She left the school and headed for the spray-painted conni. Reaching it, she got in and sat behind the wheel, hands shaking. She reached for the glove compartment, opening it and taking out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one, tossing the pack back and slamming the compartment closed. Dahli puffed at the cigarette, staring out the window but seeing only the body of the young Faylan. She saw in detail the scars, the tattoo, and the dried, hopeless eyes. She sat and smoked a while longer, feeling her resolution harden. As she started the conni and drove away, she still wasn't certain exactly what she would do, but she knew she was going to do something.

***---***

Draephus stood directly across the street from Dahli's house. He had a cold, frightened knot in his stomach; a sensation all too familiar to him these days. He rocked back on the heels of his boots, hands in the pockets of his coat. It was clean for the first time since he had bought it; Raski had thrown it in the wash while he had been passed out.

He hadn't been there long, but he was already considering getting back into Raski's conni and slinking off. He hadn't wanted to face Dahli ever again after the way he'd acted, but guilt and Raski had both nagged him into some attempt at an apology. Šukat, she could keep the conni if she wanted, so long as he got a chance to say he was sorry. He doubted she'd accept, but it was worth the try.

He saw her come walking down the street, wearing the same grey jacket he had last seen her in. As he watched her go by, unaware of his presence, he noticed that the she was not wearing the ever-present Gryphon shirt. She looked preoccupied, lost in some thought as she headed up the stairs of her house, pausing to unlock the door. As she entered, he took a deep breath and forced himself to cross the street. Bad scene number three million and two coming up.

Dahli had just hung up her jacket when she heard the knock at the door. The sound puzzled her, she couldn't think of who it could be. She walked down the hall to the door and opened it. The two stared at each other for what seemed to be forever.

"YOU'RE THE LAST SON OF A FERALYKE I WANT TO SEE!" Dahli yelled.

"Dahli..." he began, taking a step towards her. She swung the door shut so hard that when it hit Draephus saw stars and his knees went weak. Shaking his head and asking himself if this was worth it, he pushed his way in as far as he could with her holding the door closed on him.

"Look," he said, "I want to apologise..."

"For your existence? Gonna take you a long time going door-to-door, now get lost!"

"Dahli..." Draephus began again.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it!" She turned and walked away, Draephus following after her.

"Look, I behaved really badly..." he tried again.

"NO ŠUKATING CLART!" Dahli screamed at him. "COME TO THINK OF IT, I MAY HAVE NOTICED! NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"Dahli..."

"OUT! OUT! OUT!"

"Can I explain myself?"

"You were raised by child-beaters, right? You hurt me, clarthead. I'm not a sounding board. I'm not a vent for your head problems." She took an ineffective swing at him.

"I realise that! That's why I'm here!"

"I DON'T WANT YOU HERE!" Dahli screamed so loudly that the cords stood out on her neck and her face was virtually purple. "And I don't want your apologies or your excuses! And if you want your conni back, then here's your keys!" She flung them at him, forcing Draephus to dodge the small, fast moving objects.

He found he was getting angry. He hadn't expected her to accept his apology, but he hadn't expected this abuse either. He reached out and caught her, gripping her by her upper arms, and Dahli, with neat accuracy, spat in his face.

The two just stood there, facing each other, neither moving. Then Draephus slowly released her, stepping back to wipe off his face. In one brief span of time he had gone from angry to confused and quiet. What was he doing standing in this house screaming at some girl he didn't even know? Dahli watched him as he pondered this a moment, then backed up a step.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, then turned and headed for the door.

Dahli went to the window and watched him go, a tall figure in a long flapping coat. He walked quickly over to the sleek black conni, getting into it and driving off. She watched until she could no longer see the conni, then turned abruptly from the window. Šukat him, she thought, though not quite with the finality she would have liked. She found herself feeling just the smallest bit sorry for him, though she wasn't exactly sure why. Nor would she have admitted it. Certainly nobody with his fame and wealth needed any pity from her, and he was a clart anyway. She went to the kitchen and began making tea, not really needing a cup, but wanting something to do with her hands. On impulse, she walked back into the living room, getting down onto her hands and knees and peering under a chair. She found the heavy golden object with its array of keys, and sat back on her heels, gazing down at it. The object was shaped like a bird's skeletal foot, a strange, finely detailed device. She turned it over in her fingers, then rose to her feet, putting the keychain into her pocket before returning to the kitchen.

Teirra came home not long after this whole ordeal. She found Dahli at the kitchen table, elbows resting on it, chin in her right hand. In her other hand she held a smouldering cigarette, and before her sat a cup of tea. Teirra halted in the doorway, staring at her. Dahli stared back.

"You're smoking," said Teirra.

"I am," said Dahli. "You would be too if you walked into science class and found a dead Faylan on a slab."

Teirra was familiar with the story of the Faylan, and was well aware of how her sister felt about it. She herself felt much the same on the subject.

"So, they brought it in, did they?"

"Yeah, they did." Dahli tapped her ashes into a tray. "It's not right, they're not animals. Why can't anyone see that?"

"Faylans are big business," said Teirra. "They're expensive. I wouldn't chance a guess at what a show quality one would bring."

"The Faylans pay more than the people who buy them." said Dahli morosely. She crushed out her cigarette with a violent motion. "I'm going to stop them from dissecting that body. I don't know how, but I am."

"Dahli," said Teirra, "I hope you're not planning anything crazy."

"No, I'm not." she said, even though she was.

***---***

She met up with her friends later that day at the Contempo, finding them seated at a small table away from the poets and people born too late to be part of the Revolution. As Dahli sat at the table, she leaned forward and said; "Anybody want to break into the school?"

Diza and Czamkiar stared at her, while Randish kept eating. He seemed undisturbed by the question.

"Are you seeeeee-rious?" asked Diza.

"Yes, I am." said Dahli. "I want to steal the Faylan."

Randish kept eating. Diza and Czamkiar fell silent as they contemplated Dahli's statement.

"I don't know," said Diza. "We could get into a lot of trouble. And they're going to know who did it."

"Then I'll do it myself," said Dahli, hailing a server.

"I'll help," said Randish suddenly, his mouth full. "They can't catch me, I live in the Cylinder. Technically, I don't exist."

"Good," said Dahli. "Now, what about you guys?"

Diza and Czamkiar looked at each other. "When do you want to do this?" Diza asked.

"Tonight," said Dahli, a weird gleam in her eyes.

"How do we get in?" asked Czamkiar.

Dahli leaned back in her seat. "Beats the clart out of me. Let's go to the concert in the park, we were going to do that anyway. We have to wait until it’s late before we do anything."

***---***

The air was cool as the four made their way from the spray-painted conni towards the darkness of the school. The vague glow of a few emergency lights was the only illumination around the silent structure, casting long, skinny shadows behind the four intruders. They approached the building cautiously, and peered in through a low window at the eerie pale blue glow of the handful of night-time lights left burning.

"Well?" said Diza. "How do we get in?"

Dahli looked around. She knew there were no houses close at hand, but she wondered if perhaps there were people in the darkness, watching. She pulled out the keys to the Creeping Malaise and passed them to Diza.

"Diza you're the getaway driver. Get the conni and park it right about here."

Diza turned and ran for the conni, glad to get out of going into the school without having to bow out of the operation. Dahli felt the weight of the prybar she had brought from home, steeling herself. Finally she raised the bar, thrusting one end under the sill of the window. She pried at the heavily constructed window, hauling down with all of her weight, and at one point raising her feet off the ground and dangling, cursing and swearing. Finally she gave up, putting her feet down on the concrete and stepping away from the bar.

"Randish, you try."

The large alien stepped forward, and, grasping the bar, threw his entire weight down on it. The window shattered, wooden sill splitting apart and allowing the iron bar to drive into the glass. There was an enormous noise of breaking wood and exploding glass, and Dahli and Czamkiar covered their heads and shrieked. Randish cleared the glass away with one gloved hand, then hoisted himself into the classroom, Dahli and Czamkiar following him inside. They found themselves in a classroom. Crossing the floor to a door, they opened it cautiously and peered into the hallway. They saw no one.

"This way," said Dahli, stepping forward and motioning the other two to follow. They ran down the hallway, shoes making too much noise in the empty building, squeaking and thumping loudly on the polished floors. They reached the stairs and ran up to the second level, abandoning caution as they charged to the science room. They reached it, Dahli grasping the door handle and discovering it was locked.

She swore, kicking the door, then took the prybar from Randish. She had come too far to be stopped now. Dahli wrenched and pulled, working the prybar back and forth, hearing the door begin to splinter. She pushed the bar in further, heaving and pulling. She pushed it in further still until she heard a great cracking noise and the door broke open, drifting back to bump into the wall. They barged into the room, Dahli running over to the window to look for Diza and the conni. Spotting them, she turned her attention back to the others, who now stood by the dead Faylan.

It had been placed into a sort of cold storage box for the respite, to prevent it from decaying. Dahli had to wonder why it had simply been on the table when she had come into class, and if Duone Bathers, for whatever reason, had wanted everyone to get a good look at it.

`Don't let this happen to you,' thought Dahli as Czamkiar lifted the lid of the box.

"We'll need something to put it in," he said. "We can't take it by itself, and it will weigh too much in the box."

"There's a tarp in the art room," said Dahli, and the three tore off to get it. More broken doors, she thought as they broke first into the class, and then into the storage closet. They were moving fast now, becoming concerned about how much time they were taking. They removed the body from the box and placed it in the tarp, wrapping it up. Then Randish picked up the body, and they quickly left the school.

“What took you so long?” Diza demanded as they ran up to the con. Czamkiar took the keys from her hand and opened the trunk. He helped Randish load the body into the space, then slammed the lid closed.

"Let's get out of here," he said, the group scurrying into the conni. Czamkiar tossed Diza the keys, and they tore out of the schoolyard in a way that would have made Raski Jervyas proud.

"Now what?" Diza asked. They were all terrified, shaken by what they had done, with the exception of Randish. He didn't seem worried.

"We go home," said Dahli.

"What?"

"We were only supposed to go out to the concert, maybe have something to eat afterwards. If we're gone too long it won't look good. So we park the Creep and go our separate ways like nothing happened. Tomorrow night we bury the body."

The group parted ways at the abandoned garage; Czamkiar and Randish heading off on their own. Diza and Dahli walked together until Diza reached her own door. The two bid each other good night, then Dahli kept on through the dark and silent streets to her own house. She slipped into her home as quietly as she was able, spying Atterick asleep in his chair. She crept past him, up the stairs to her room, finally slipping into her personal sanctuary and quietly closing the door. Dahli breathed a sigh of relief. She shed her clothes and turned off the light, climbing into bed, and lay staring at the ceiling for a very long time.

***---***

News of the break-in was on the receiver the next morning when Dahli made her way into the kitchen, pretending not to hear it as she set about making breakfast. She could feel the coldness in her body, the sick nervousness as Teirra's eyes burned into her back. Dahli thought she was going to vomit when she heard her sister speak her name.

"Yeah?" Dahli said, as calmly as she could.

"Someone broke into the school last night."

Dahli looked over her shoulder at Teirra, an incredulous sneer on her face. "Who would break into a school?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. The only things missing were a tarp and the body of a Faylan."

Dahli was so scared she honestly thought her bowels were going to let go. She tried her hardest no to show it.

"WHY WOULD I TAKE IT?"

"I know how you felt about it."

"Oh, yeah, right. So I just bust into the school and take it. One, how would I get it out of there, and two, where would I put it? And three, why would I want to go handle a dead body? I wanted to keep them from cutting it up, not take it and make a keepsake out of it."

Teirra wasn't buying her story and Dahli could see it in her eyes. Teirra didn't know how her sister had removed the thing from the school, or where she had put it, but she was convinced that Dahli had indeed done so.

"Dahli..." she began.

"Teirra, I don't have the body, and I didn't take it. But I'd like to shake the hand of whoever did."

"You could be in a lot of trouble, Dahli. Damaging school property, theft..."

"I don't have it!" Dahli yelled. "I don't know who does. I hope they gave it a decent burial."

"Okay," said Teirra softly.

Both fell silent, Dahli turning back to making her breakfast. The quiet continued for another few minutes.

"Atterick and I were going to go down to the beach today and spend some time there. Do you want to come along?" asked Teirra, her voice light.

It was a challenge, Dahli knew, a dare to break routine and turn down a trip to the soft white beaches of the east side of the island. It would also give Teirra a chance to keep an eye on her, to watch for clues that would incriminate her. Dahli shrugged.

"I don't know, are you sure you can trust me not to break into anything?"

Teirra sighed. "I think so."

Dahli found herself wanting to throw something and start screaming, but she couldn't very well try to get rid of the body in broad daylight, anyway.

"Sure," she said, "okay."

***---***

The day was hot for late spring, unseasonably so. Dahli stretched out on the warm sand, gazing up at the protective haze. She felt calmer now than she had earlier. She closed her eyes, feeling the sand between her fingers as she thought about where they would bury the Faylan. It would have to be someplace secluded, where no one was likely to come across it. She wondered how long it would take her, Diza, Czamkiar and Randish to dig a grave. They would need a pick and a shovel. Dahli considered buying flower seeds to sprinkle over the grave, musing about how long it would take the foliage to grow back over the hole. Grass and brambles grew quickly, and they could toss some leaves and branches over the area. With any luck, caution and planning, no one would ever find the spot.

But where to put the body? Dahli mused over several possibilities. There were swamps along the back roads, where the ground was soft and easy to dig, but they were popular places for people to drive off-road vehicles. They may not have enough time to bury the Faylan before somebody came along. Maybe they could bury it off the side of the road, in the deep bush. Sure, who would find it out there? Dahli dozed in the hot sun, content that the adventure would soon be over.

She called Czamkiar when she got home later that afternoon, asking him to get Diza and meet her down at the Contempo. She then changed her clothes and left the house, content that Teirra had given up the notion that she had the body. Dahli walked down the street to the old garage, keys jingling in her pocket. It was a fine day, and she was feeling pretty good. Or at least she was until she reached the garage.

The smell seeped out as soon as she opened the garage door. It was not very strong, but it was there, the sickening-sweet smell of spoiled flesh. Dahli felt her mouth water as though she was going to vomit, and her stomach rolled. She turned her head aside, hearing the sound of the flies buzzing as they sought the source of the stench. She took a moment to recover, then inhaled a breath of clean air before walking into the garage.

The smell was worse once she got into the conni, where the body was confined. Gagging on the reek, she rolled down her window as fast as she could and drove out of the garage. As she paused for a traffic light, she opened the other window to air the vehicle out, and it worked to some extent. Dahli drove as fast as she dared to the Contempo, feeling a knot in her stomach as she continued to smell rot. She glanced out the window, glad to see the day was ending and it was becoming dark. When she reached the Contempo, she left the conni running and ran inside the building to get her friends, finding Randish among them. Dahli walked hurriedly up to the table.

"I'm parked outside," she said in a quick, quiet tone. "Can you please hurry? The conni stinks like you would not believe."

The three stared back at her. "Stinks?" inquired Diza. She had a horrified look on her face. Dahli nodded.

"Yeah. Look I'm going to drive around a bit before someone gets a good sniff. You people hurry." Then she left the restaurant, getting into the conni and heading off to circle the block.

She had driven around the block five times before she saw her friends in front of the Contempo. She stopped the vehicle and threw the door open for them to get in. She couldn't help but notice that her hands were white on the steering wheel.

"Smell isn't that bad." said Czamkiar from the back seat.

"Isn't that great," said Randish. His voice implied that his nose was wrinkled in disgust, but no one could see through the hair.

"It was worse when I first got the conni." said Dahli. "Sitting in the garage it was so bad I thought I was going to be ill." She turned a corner, guiding the conni out of the city. "So does anybody know where we can get a shovel?"

There was silence.

"Anybody?" said Dahli, a little helplessly. Diza and Czamkiar were quiet. Randish stared down at his long, strong hands.

"Come on, Randish," said Dahli, "Siriusians live in caves."

"We don't dig them ourselves."

The group drove on, heading further out of the city. All was silent within save for the soft sound of the receiver and the hum of the engine.

"I have an idea," Czamkiar suddenly said. "If we took it into the woods we could use branches and stuff to dig the grave. The ground would be soft enough."

"That would be all right for a shallow grave," said Randish. "We want something deeper and more permanent."

"Randish is right," said Dahli. "We're going to need something to dig with. I wish I knew where to get something. HEY! My grandma gardens, she'll have a shovel." Dahli turned the conni around sharply, heading back towards the city.

They parked the conni a safe distance away from the old lady's house. Dahli got out and slipped quietly into the yard, and as she did so a familiar large figure bounded off of the porch to greet her. She bent to pat Boo's head, rubbing the furless monster's ears. She gave him a final slap before heading towards the gardening shed, Boo tagging along, his small rump trying to keep up with his huge weight-lifter's shoulders. He sat down by the garden shed door, dual rows of teeth and huge nocturnal eyes giving him the look of a demented cartoon. Boo watched as Dahli tried the door and found it locked.

"Clart," Dahli muttered, pulling once more on the door.

She walked around to the small side window, managing to get her fingers under the sill. She pulled and the window came open, but the space was narrow. She thrust her head into the opening, finding she could fit that part in easily enough. Putting her arms in next, she pulled herself clumsily head-first into the shed. She slowly squiggled inside, almost falling and landing on her skull. She managed not to kill herself as she lowered herself to the ground, then stood up and dusted herself off. Dahli reached for the light, finding the string and tugging it, illumination suddenly filling the small, cramped space. There were stacks of pots on shelves, seedlings were lined in neat rows on a little rack, and in one corner there was an array of gardening implements. She examined these, finding hoes, rakes, and a couple of spades, but nothing that looked as though it could do the job she had in mind.

Grandma probably didn't bury many bodies.

Dahli continued to look around, though by now she had decided she probably was not going to find a large shovel. She decided to take the spades; they were sharp and better than nothing. She reached out to take the smooth shafts in her hand when she suddenly heard Boo race off at a great rate, roaring nightmarishly. She heard the screech of two surprised youths, young boys who made a practice of cutting through the yard. Dahli quickly turned off the light, crouching down in the small shed as she heard the feralyke continue to bellow. She saw the yellow porch light come on through the window, and a moment later heard the front door creak open.

"Boo! What are you making all that noise about? Come on, get inside!"

Dahli listened to her heart pound as she heard the feralyke tear up the stairs and into the house. The door shut, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She waited in silence until the light went off, then, taking the spades, tossed them out the window and climbed out after them. She then pushed the window closed, then, spades in hand, ran across the lawn, climbing over the low fence and heading towards the conni.

"What took you?" said Diza, her hand over her nose. With the conni stationary the smell had once more filtered through.

"I almost got caught," said Dahli, thrusting the spades into the back seat of the conni with Randish and Czamkiar. She then got into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle forward, pulling neatly away from the curb.

"Do you think these will do it?" asked Czamkiar, examining the spades.

"I don't know," said Dahli. "I guess they'll have to, but who knows how long it will take us to dig the grave."

"It's getting late," said Diza, "we had better find a place soon or else we won't have time. And that thing smells bad enough already."

"Kinda smells like home," said Randish musingly.

"Great," said Dahli, "that really makes me want to keep your planet in mind if I ever move off of this one. I think I’d rather move to Fayla."

"Great conversationalists, those Faylans," said Czamkiar. He and Randish both began barking and howling loudly.

"Okay!" Dahli yelled above the noise. "I get the point. And I'd fry in the sun anyway; their planet isn't protected like ours. And speaking of Faylans, there's a back road. Maybe there will be a place to dig a grave."

They turned down the road, driving slowly over the pot holes. Trees lined the way, old and bent, their trunks rough and grey, standing like grizzled spirit guardians. Grass grew long and wild on road’s unpaved surface, and at times it seemed the old thoroughfare had been swallowed completely by the encroaching wilderness. The bush was thick and high, a virtually impenetrable barrier.

"This is going nowhere," said Dahli after a while. "There's no way we'll get through this stuff. Let's go back."

They went back to the main road, driving about until they found what appeared to be a suitable spot. Upon closer inspection, however, it proved to be a swamp, and they spent a tense few minutes trying to get Randish out of the muck. They finally hauled the big Siriusian out of the bog, but it had been a scary turn of events. They went back to the conni and were on their way again, continuing in their quest for the Great Faylan Burial Site.

"This is clart," said Czamkiar, exasperated. He was in the front seat with Dahli now, while in the back seat Diza was wiping muck off Randish with a towel which had been left back there. "It's almost the middle of the night and we still haven't found a spot. I don't even want to think about what the body looks like after baking in the heat all day."

Dahli didn’t answer. She suddenly pulled over to the side of the road, stopping the conni. Off to the right she looked out across a misty field, the eerie shapes of statues in the vague light of the headlights.

"Okay folks," said Dahli, "we have found our spot." She opened the door and got out. She walked around the conni and down the ditch towards the field.

"Dahli!" yelled Diza as she and the other two followed her. "This field belongs to someone!"

"Uh-huh," said Dahli, knowing exactly to whom it belonged. "Come on, let's pick a spot."

The four scaled the simple wooden fence, thumping down into long, tangled grass. As they walked they could feel the softness of the earth beneath their feet. They passed statues, some tilted at odd angles, slowly sinking into the ground. The unnerving cold sentinels were everywhere, and loomed periodically out of the fog to watch the four pass by, and in one place great birds and men on destriders stood guard near a group of ethereal goddesses, down on their knees as they wept into their stone hands.

"Someone was busy for a few hundred years," whispered Czamkiar as they passed a multi-faced monster with impossibly large teeth.

"Yeah," said Dahli. "I wonder who made these, and why they all face in the same direction?" She shivered as she realized the monuments all stared towards Draephus’ castle, like a silent army of the damned, daring him to come forth.

"Who knows?" said Diza. "Hey look! We can bury the body there!"

The place Diza indicated was a tiny grotto created beneath the limbs of several enormous, bent trees, hung with mosses and lichens. Within their shrouding embrace was a tiny natural pool, little more than a puddle, a run-off from the thin stream that wormed apologetically past. A tiny winged being bent her face to the pool, her young features a mask of surprise. One small hand hovered just above the surface of the water. Behind her and the pool, shadowed far under the mighty trees, was enough space to bury the Faylan.

"Right," said Dahli. "I'll get the spades."

"No it's too late now." said Diza. "We'll have to do it tomorrow."

"But then we'll have to leave the body another day!" said Dahli. "It's going to smell even worse. Let's at least start the grave, since we're out here."

She ran back to the conni, bounding over grass and brambles, returning shortly with the spades. Dropping one to the ground, she took the other and shoved it into the earth, removing a chunk of the rich, dark soil. The digging was easy, and Dahli cut the edges of the grave. She removed the top layer of grass with care, so it could be replaced later. She set the pieces aside in careful array, rather like a jigsaw puzzle. Then, once this was done, she set about digging with a vengeance. The soil heaped up as she went, driving the spade again and again into the ground, tearing out more earth.

She didn't ask Czamkiar to take over; he simply did when it became obvious that she was too tired. Rising from his seat on the ground, he took the spade and continued work on the hole. Dahli sat down on the ground, winded and sweating. The air was cool, and she could feel the sweat quickly drying on her body, leaving a chill. She watched Czamkiar dig for a while, then, when he grew tired, Randish took over.

The hours came and went silently, slipping by unheeded. After three hours of digging, Dahli and Diza went to get the Faylan.

The stench that wafted out of the conni's trunk was revolting, and Dahli had to resist the urge to vomit. She could feel it rising in her stomach, and she fought it down as she reached in to grab one end of the rolled tarp. Diza reached in to take the other and they lifted it out of the trunk, carrying it back to the grave site. The hole Randish was standing in was thigh-deep on him, making it waist-deep on Dahli and Diza. Dahli stared at the hole critically, then shook her head.

"It still isn't deep enough. Look why don't you guys just go home, it's getting pretty late. I'll finish this myself. No sense all of us getting caught for being out too late."

"No," said Diza wearily, and sighed. "Look my dad won't be home in the morning, he goes to work early. I told him I was spending the night at your place because I had a feeling we would be out too late. We can go to my place and wash our clothes so you won't have to go home all muddy. I mean it still doesn’t solve the problem of Teirra wanting to know where we were, but we may as well finish.”

Randish was still digging. Dahli watched him for a short time, then said; "All right."

They dug down further, and when they finally could dig no more, the pit was chest-deep on Dahli. All were sore and tired. Blisters had formed on their hands and broken open, leaving painful, oozing sores. They placed the Faylan in the hole, then sat on the grass to catch their breath. They had no idea what the time may be. Above them the sky showed no sign of brightening, but all were anxious to finish the job and be on their way. It was Dahli who first went to the heap of dirt and began doggedly throwing it back into the hole. This took decidedly less time than the digging had, and soon the hole was full. They replaced the grass, pressing it down by walking on it, the four of them milling about on the one small area; heedless of how comedic they looked doing so. Then, in silence, they took the spades and left the solitary grave beneath the trees.

Diza's father had left by the time they arrived; four dirty, tired figures. They beat most of the clotted muck off outside, then threw their clothes into the washer. They sat about the kitchen table, quiet and bleary, drinking tea in their underwear. Dahli lit a cigarette with aching fingers, noticing Randish was too tired to care. She stared at the tattoo on his forearm, one very similar to the Faylan's. She was almost startled to notice it, but then recalled that was why he was on Sferkkaa; he too had been brought down to experiment on.

Dahli studied the Siriusian. He looked ordinary enough, save for that ridge of hair down his back that descended from somewhere beneath the tangled mane on his head. His hair was stringy enough after the work that she could see his eyes, which were a soft warm brown. Inside his great chest was a pair of enlarged lungs, and a huge heart to make better use of the thin, hot atmosphere of his world. The biggest problem Siriusians had living on Sferkkaa was the fact that this world was not as warm as their own, and those big, heat-absorbing lungs easily caught bronchial diseases. Dahli then recalled that he would have an inner lid to help protect his eyes from the flying sand. One good yawn also reminded her of something else, and she stared at the ragged carnivore's teeth with the awe of the exhausted. Diza came to sit next to him, pushing her hand through his dark, heavy hair. A little dried mud fell out, and she smiled.

"You need a bath."

"Are you going to make me take one?"

"Won't be the first time I've wrestled you into doing something."

Czamkiar was too tired to notice the interaction. He stared ahead, his blue eyes surrounded by red, a streak of mud on his left cheek. His eye make-up was halfway down his face.

"Well," he said, "here it is, another typical morning at Diza's, with everybody at the table drinking tea in their underwear."

"We don't wear underwear on Sirius," remarked Randish. He stared into his mug. "We don't drink tea, either."

Czamkiar look at Dahli. "So now what?" he asked.

Dahli exhaled smoke, stubbing out her cigarette. "From now on, it's my mess alone."

***---***

Draephus searched under the debris of the previous night's party for the telcom, completely unaware he was running a cemetery for Faylans. He could hear it, ringing persistently beneath the mess of glasses, clothing, bottles, ashtrays, drug paraphernalia, and other bits of crap. He found the telcom under Raski, who was curled protectively around it behind the couch Delaes Randerick was presently passed out on. Draephus thought this was probably the last party he would ever throw in his home as he pried the com away from Raski and managed to get it to his ear.

"Hello?" he croaked blearily. His stomach threatened to evict last night's merriment.

"May I speak to Draephus CZimcocious, please."

Draephus didn't much like the officious tone of voice. It sounded too much like a LEO. Beneath him, Raski squirmed. Draephus kissed his face.

"Yeah, talking."

"Donsa CZimcocious, this is Officer Astor of the Second City Legal Enforcement Department..."

Draephus went cold. He'd had enough problems with the LEOs to be wary of any contact with them, and the fact that there was enough highly illegal drugs currently lying all over his house to get him put away for life didn't make him any happier. Not that the LEOs had time to waste on the occasional user, but if they showed up and found this pile… well... there was such a thing as pushing one’s luck. Fifteen pounds of mushroom powder and resin was a bit much to claim as being for personal use only, even if it was.

"Officer..." drawled Draephus. “How's it going?" Both Delaes and Raski sat up, Delaes weaving appreciably.

"Donsa CZimcocious, do you own a psychedelic Celestial Hunter?"

“Psychedelic? No mine’s grey.”

Across town, the officer looked out his window at the smouldering wreckage that had once been a beautiful vintage conveyance. “Well it’s been vandalized, Donsa CZimcocious. The original colour may have been grey.”

Draephus groaned, trying to think of any distinguishing features that would be visible through several coats of graffiti. He finally recalled the time Khandid had accidentally broken a bottle of ink in the back seat.

“Is there a hand print in black ink on the back seat?”

“Yes there is.”

“Should be mine, then.”

"Well, we have it, we were wondering if you would like to come claim it."

Draephus sighed. "Sure. I'll be right down." He passed Raski the telcom, staring fondly at him, gently touching his face. "Come on, Rask, let's to down to the LEO department and get my conni."

Having determined somewhere in his still-inebriated brain that they were in no danger, Delaes Randerick flopped over once more with a small, childish noise. Draephus walked over to him, picking him up and carrying him upstairs to a guest room.

“You’re cute when you’re asleep,” he told the skinny, leggy man. Delaes made a small noise, but that was the only response he gave. Draephus carried him into a room and placed him on the bed, watching as his Faylans hopped up to join Delaes, snuggling with him.

“You guys sure like Delaes for some reason,” Draephus remarked. He watched them as they yipped and nipped each other, as if fighting over who got to sleep beside the unconscious man. Czanda finally let Bacca have the privilege, Draephus raising an eyebrow. “Look, every time Delaes comes to visit, you two start acting like clartheads. Now if you can’t play nice then you’re both going in the Bad Faylan Box, without cookies.”

Bacca shook his head and made a rude noise.

“Just behave.”

“Pfft.”

“I don’t have to take that from you. Me Master. You… alternate life form. Respect me. Or I’ll discipline you. And I mean it this time. Really.”

Bacca made a rumbling noise, then put his head down, closing his eyes. Draephus sighed and left the room, making his way downstairs in time to see Raski stand up and look around at the spread of mess. It had taken the Gryphons, Bad Influence, and about two hundred of their best friends to make the mess. Now as the day broke on Twoday morning, Raski wondered how large a transport they'd need to haul the debris away.

“I’ve seen explosions that didn’t look this bad,” said Raski.

“That’s because this wasn’t an explosion, it was a riot.” Draephus began sorting through the wreckage, finding a body rolled up in a ball inside one of the two enormous fireplaces. Draephus slowly uncovered the face, and grinned.

“Well well, lookit this, someone tossed away a perfectly good quinticord player. Wanna see what the world’s fastest quintist looks like asleep?”

Raski blinked. “Straif Mannechek is passed out in your fireplace?”

“The one and the same. Little darling must have showed up with Delaes, he’s been trying to talk him into leaving Vortex and joining Bad Influence.”

“Well what do we do with him? We can’t leave him in the fireplace; the man’s a god of the music world!”

“So genuflect and I’ll carry him upstairs and stick him beside Delaes.”

Raski did. Draephus rolled his eyes, and picked up the decidedly tiny man. No sooner had Draephus hoisted him, however, when one green eye opened. It looked from Draephus, to Raski, and back again.

“Why do I smell like a barbecue pit and how did I get here?”

“You were in the fireplace, and we have no idea.”

Straif Mannechek, seventeen years old and not known for his brains or his bravery, stared at Draephus nervously. “Are you gonna hurt me?”

“Would you like me too?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t. C’mon, you’re a baby, you’re not supposed to be found passed out in the fireplaces of people you don’t know.”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to pass out.”

Draephus took Straif up to Delaes’ room, placing him down beside him and covering him over.

“Want a bedtime story?” he asked.

Straif gave him a sour look, a little too intimidated by Draephus’ famed reputation for violence to say anything in return. He was small even by North Continent standards, and he was not about to lip off to a man he knew to have killed over two hundred people in the war.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Glass of milk? Cookies?”

Delaes sat up. “Draephus will you kindly stop teasing the child I would really rather not have to get out of this bed and find something to hit you with not with my head and stomach feeling the way they do at the moment and I am going to be sick where’s the bathroom?”

Draephus pointed, and Delaes got out of the bed, fleeing in the direction indicated. Draephus looked back down at Straif, feeling an odd urge to just cuddle the youngster protectively, knowing the boy was far too young to realize just how very exceptionally talented he was, and how, despite what he was being told, Vortex would come apart without him. Straif was a pawn in other people’s games, and Draephus hoped he had the bravery to leave Vortex and join up with a band that would protect and appreciate him.

“Okay I’ll stop teasing. And you don’t have to be scared of me.”

“Don’t have to be scared of you? You once killed a man with a salami!”

“It was not a salami. I don’t quite remember what it was, but it was definitely not a salami. And Straif, there was a war on, and he was trying to use my lower intestine to hang me with. I don’t kill people just for fun. In fact I would much prefer to not have to kill anyone ever again. I certainly have no reason to hurt you, so don’t be scared. Just lie down until you feel better, help yourself to whatever I have in the kitchen, and if I catch you drinking again before you’re twenty I’ll spank your ass. Shi-dah?”

“What?”

“Understand?”

“Everything but that last word.”

Draephus groaned inwardly. “Lie down, get some rest, we’ll sort out how bright you’re not later.”

***---***

Raski cleaned himself up before they left; Draephus didn't bother. They drove to the large, functional and painfully ugly building downtown, and the two walked into the structure, listening to their feet make hollow, echoing sounds on the cold stone floor. The two walked up to the main desk, reigned over by a large man in uniform. He glanced up at the two with mild interest, as though smelly celebrities were an everyday occurrence.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

Draephus paused, his attention focused for the moment on his stomach. It calmed down, and he relaxed. He had no desire to toss here, of all places.

"Name is Draephus CZimcocious," he said. "I'm here to identify my conni."

"Officer Astor has been waiting for you. You'll find his office just down the hall."

The two found the officer, and he led them out to the compound where the vehicle was being kept, crossing a short grassy expanse to the fenced-in area. Feralykes ran up to investigate them briefly, then went about their business of guarding the compound. Officer Astor made a motion for Draephus and Raski to follow him.

"It's over here," he said.

When Draephus saw his conni, he began moving faster, jogging up to the vehicle, stopping before its broad nose. He stared, horror-struck, at the wild colours, the weird lurking figures, and the Bad Influence logo. The windshield was cracked, and as he moved around to the side he saw the enormous crease along the side where Dahli had driven it into the stone pillar. He yanked the door open and winced as it screamed in protest. He thrust his head inside, pulling it out quickly as the stench of rot hit him. He gagged, resting a hand on the roof of the once-noble conni to steady himself.

"Is this your vehicle?" asked Astor.

Draephus composed himself, slowly turning to face the man. "Yeah. Where did you find it?"

"In the possession of a fifteen-year-old girl named Dahli Sandiniti. She's in custody now. Would you like to press charges?"

Draephus looked at the ruined upholstery, the debris strewn about the interior. "No," he said softly, "that's all right, she didn't hurt it."

Officer Astor nodded, then gazed in puzzlement at the Bad Influence logo on the hood. "I thought you fellows called your band the Mortified Gryphons."

"We're really big Bad Influence fans," said Raski cheesily.

The officer looked sidelong at Raski, who was grinning like an idiot. "Just as well you don't press charges," he said. "Donselle Sandiniti is in quite enough trouble already."

"What kind of trouble?" asked Draephus.

"I can't specify, but bad trouble. Anyway, just sign the form stating this is your conni and you can take it."

Draephus signed his name, taking his keys from the man. At least he still had his bird-claw keychain, he mused. Vesper had given it to him, and he would have hated to have lost it.

“So what do we do with it?” asked Raski. “Burn it?”

“Have it repaired, I guess.”

Raski nodded, and watched as a tire suddenly began deflating loudly, complete with sounds effects that would have had any eight-year-old in hysterics. He put an arm around Draephus.

“My lover, that child was some kind of pissed at you.”

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008 Alyx Shaw