Fifth of Liquid Trouble

Allie handled the talk with Granny Tsubone. She was a kind old woman, short and hunched over like a willow tree, who tried to offer a recording of the “break in” before any was asked for from her home security camera. The very same that had been installed over Allie’s door.

The file – surprising no one but her elder – was corrupted, and completely unusable. She had looked about to cry while delivering the news.

To keep out the night, Kira went about hanging one of the dryer blankets over the hole Arata had left, using a few nails that when driven into the wall would also drive up the rent. Kira loudly estimated the total damages at a tenth of her stolen money, despite Allie’s complaints; although she didn’t dare attempt to shove the cash back into Kira’s hands. Words and a red, blustered face were her only weapons.

“Walk me through the heist. Spare no details, or by every deity we lack names for I will use these stacks to pelt you bloody.”

That had been one half hour previous. The blanket had been hung, glass swept up, groceries carried in, and new seats taken on opposite couches. Allie’s brow had grown so furrowed over the story’s course that her forehead was now less skin and more a topographical map of increasingly steep elevation. Fingers whitened by pressure massaged her temples.

“Are you aware just how deep the pit you’ve made a home of is?” she asked.

Kira brushed a clump of black from her face, more oil than hair. “More every minute. The job stopped being worth its payment hours ago.” Or at least it felt like hours. She didn’t exactly have a watch to keep track of the time, only a vague sense carried down through generations of clock-less peasants. Fashion phased out the sundial. “Speaking of, I can’t stay any longer.” She bent down to pick up the case. “I have my interview tomorrow, and my body starts falling apart without sufficient rest,” she added, louder, ignoring the metallic sinching of buckles. Thumps on the floor that were not from the case. “Arata’s gone. Far as I’m concerned, he’s no longer my responsibility.” She stood with a sigh, hoping all those noises were hallucinations. That she would see the vulpine-cleaving body aside the stairwell prepared to accompany her upward. She found worse.

Allie stood with crutches between the stairwell and her, body a wall before the exit.

Kira sighed heavily. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Take some time to rest here. You never know; he might come back.” One ear flicked as if swatting a fly.

“It’s a school night.”

“Good thing we’re beyond the classroom now.”

“I’m trying to get back there, if you don’t mind.” Kira started for the stairs.

“I could swat you for insincerity like our teachers would. Make you stand in the hall with a bucket of water. Give you a headstart on that path.” If Kira’s approach unnerved her, Allie refused to show it. She held her ground. Even her tail was still, betraying nothing.

“What have I got to lie about?”

She was in front of the other girl now, looking up Allie. A full head she had over Kira, and at least two weight classes; not that it would matter against her magic, so long as she could instill a useful emotion like fear. The problem was she could not summon up a single drop that wasn’t frustration.

Frustration often gave way to anger. Anger led to beatings. Crutches were metal, and metal beat bones.

Kira held up her hand, and Allie’s nostrils flared. She did not budge, not even as the whites of her eyes shone bright with trepidation.

“Move.”

“That’s not how blackstone works.”

Kira blinked, watching the slow swallow down Allie’s throat. Her muscles bobbed up and down. “What?”

“I may not know so much as a blacksmith like the Lieutenant or Arata, but I know enough,” she rasped. “I know you can’t manipulate blackstone with magic. Acts like an anchor. Can’t be moved. Grind some into powder, mix it with a vicious base, a few herbs for wetness, you can slather it on clothes to make ‘em resistant like shields. It’s an expensive staple for the Don’s men, Falcon wielders, and anyone with a bone to pick of the magical sort. Your story has holes. So does the memory crystal.”

Lowering her hand, Kira gave the girl a serious look. “A memory crystal?”

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather discuss this sitting down, and without the looming threat of you.”

Begrudgingly, Kira lowered her hand further. “I’m not staying the night.” She flattened herself against the wall to allow the larger woman to pass.

“You’ve pissed off the Don’s men and the famously sneaky Falcons. My place is the safest haven for you at the moment, far safer than the streets for a girl and her case almost full of money.” Allie lowered herself onto the coach with a sharp exhale. “Give my mind some peace and stay until the sun’s up.

“Mind if I borrow your shower and clean myself up?”

“Only if you don’t mind cold water.”

“It’s all I’ve known.”

Allie chuckled, appreciative for rolling with her little joke. “Cheers to being wielders! May we all one day know blackstone heaters.”

---

Full of clothes hung to dry, Kira imagined the bathroom would be her closest experience to navigating a jungle. Avoiding the mirror, she turned the closest faucet within reach. That it had an “H” didn’t matter. Either would result in the same ice bath. The upside of never having access to hot water was that you couldn’t run it out, either.

I should be back home preparing. Not this. If Arata hadn’t flung that stone, if we hadn’t needed to fight our way out because of him…

She dug palms into her eyes.

Kira knelt down by the toilet and lifted the lid. She opened her mouth, stuck out her pointer and middle fingers, like she planned to dig around in a nearly empty jar of peanut butter for the remains. Some could do it with one. Two, she’d found, streamlined the process, especially when emotions getting the better of her turned her hand this way and that.

The other pulled her necklace away.

Historically the gurgle of the running shower was enough to cover up the sounds, but she flushed down the toilet simultaneously as the chocolate coming back up for an extra measure of safety. Allie’s ears were the real thing, and a fox’s looked too much like a dog’s.

---

“Sorry about the stains on the shower floor. Ash runoff was stickier than I’d imagined.” She wrapped the yellow-and-green blanket tighter around herself, and resisted the urge to cough. Her head swirled the room’s myriad colors into a puddle. Focusing on the floor instead, she willed her stomach to calm.

“Don’t worry too much. I’ve got a decent supply of solvent for deep cleaning at all times.” Allie dug around in her cooler labeled “Drinks,” ice up to her elbow. “You still have a hankering for strawberries?”

“Never stopped.”

“Glad I had some sitting around then.” There was a pop as Allie opened the first bottle, then a second. Kira heard the soft fizzing noises as she poured them into cups. “So, memory crystals, really cool stuff. Take some thoughts you’d like to remember and copy them into the gemstone like you’re writing notes down for school. Revisit them any time you’d like. Bad news: anyone else can, as well.

“In theory, the Don should have been granted what was contained once he fulfilled the sigil’s condition in Arata’s blood. I don’t recommend strolling back into his claws and asking, but it’s a point to consider. The madness, however, you’ll only be able to extract from Arata himself. I’ve never heard of sigildry causing lingering damage. Once contact is broken, any effects are ceased.”

A grumble of effort interrupted her story, and the reward was a plastic-sounding snap of a container lid. Wasting no time, Allie brought each morsel to the table between the couches, wheeling along on her chair from one place to the next, delivering two large cups of fizzing drink – one tinged pink for Kira, and another of dark brown amid chunks of ice – and an additional large squeezable thermos for herself, before slapping down two rectangular boxes that made Kira’s stomach rumble treacherously: breaded meats, cubed vegetables, rice sprinkled with ginger. Steam drifted from the food. Allie placed a set of chopsticks beside each box. “Compliments of Granny Tsubone,” she said, transferring her body to the couch and bringing an assortment of blankets around her waist.

Kira could only stare.

Movement by her leg made her jump suddenly. A lump the size of her hand came into being inside her own dunes of blanket and began to dart around wildly, eventually finding the edge and escaping in a blur of brown fur and a long pink tail. From the way the squat body angled toward the hot food, it had been the source demanding attention.

“Hi, Sanpaku.” she said.

The rat twitched whiskers at her voice, turning to the girl, narrow eyes squinted in the room’s light, giving the animal the appearance of a ragged old man now that he was no longer sequestered in warmth. With an intrepid sniff he rolled over, flashing his belly, and wiggled in apparent happiness. Receiving only a shake of the head, he flipped back over. Beady eyes unmistakable downtrodden, he scurried over to Allie and the food in her lap, taking crumbs in paws to nibble. She lowered her cup so he could sip as well.

“Then there’s the issue of the trap knocking out everyone except you and Arata. You said it was just a flash of white followed by instant unconsciousness?”

“That’s right.”

“Another hole to be filled, then,” Allie said with a sigh. “Shame you didn’t take the crystal when you had the chance.” She swapped out one drink for the other, taking a healthy swig. Teal and glitter dripped down the corner of her mouth. A piece of yellowed paper had been taped to the thermos, words written and crossed in a column until one was circled: “Foxgirl Juice.”

“He wasn’t letting me. I didn’t want to press the matter.”

Allie stared at her from over the bottle, soot-dipped nose twitching. “Good on you for having restraint.”

“Eat me.”

“Enough of this stuff and I might have the jaws to take you up on that.” She sat the thermos down and toyed a cut of lettuce over Sanpaku’s head. “But wouldn’t you rather be the one eating?”

“Go ask the rat who tells you everything. He seems to have better memory retention skills.”

“He and I are still debating over a ‘why.’ What’s the necklace for?”

Kira’s hand slipped to the metal on instinct. Script scratched a tattoo against her fingertips. “For the cold.”

“Doesn’t help much, methinks, when small breezes are enough to make you teeth clack.” Allie pointed to her animal ears, hand brushing away her auburn hair as it came up from the side of her head. A shrunken mass, like a partially closed fist, marked the remains of her human one. “Eat. Food will keep your strength up for when the Don tracks you down. Fat will keep you warm in the winter.”

“Hard to believe that considering you keep this place sweltering and have wrapped yourself in sheets.”

“I like to keep toasty. Being a wielder has forbidden me from owning a heater, so I’ll be my own.” She paused. “I’d gladly share a few degrees.” Stroking Sanpaku on his head, she let the second half of the statement go unspoken. If not for the wielder that you are. “Take it from me. There’s only so much trouble you can afford in denying a longing, or any desire for that matter. You can lock it up, sure, but eventually it’ll start gnawing on the walls, requiring more and more of yourself to keep controlled, until only a husk remains.”

“And what do you think you’re getting at now?” Under the blankets, Kira’s knuckles blanched with her fist. Sharper words bitten back cut into her tongue.

Reaching up a hand, Allie tapped the side of her vulpine nose.

“Your breath reeks.”

Kira reeled back as if struck. The heat of the room pressed in close and stifling like wet cotton, sneaking into her ears and muffling the room. Blood pounded in her ears, inescapable. Without a word, she plucked the container of food prepared by the sweet, elderly neighbor and placed it in her lap, flicking the chopsticks to the floor. She clicked her tongue. Alerted, Sanpaku traipsed over the gap between the two friends and settled next to the food, swinging back his whole triangular head to slam down open jaws into a piece of breaded chicken. He devoured his fill as the two glared daggers at one another. Kira brought her drink over to the rat, lips pulled back in a rueful smirk.

Quick as a flash – narrowly avoiding Kira’s fingers – Allie drew her pet back into the safety of her arms, a scowl on her own.

“What? It’s just a bit of soda.” She said, bringing the drink to her lips. The overwhelming artificial scent tickled her nostrils. Popping bubbles of carbonation gave a sound to center on. A happier distraction from the sensations of her own flesh.

Then, a thought occurred; an idle musing wrapped over a pill of suspicion, bitter on its way down.

She placed the cup back on the table. Eyes locked with Allie, she snatched up the girl’s own and downed the brown, sugary soda. Cherry flavoring swept in with the tide, and Kira grimaced at the unsubtle taste. Slamming down the cup once only its dregs remained, smacking her lips for the drama of it all, Kira leaned back on the couch, smugness radiating off her.

Allie merely rolled her eyes, taking Kira’s drink in exchange, taking small sips.

“I hate cherries.”

“If only I’d done the proper host thing and made you something you’d preferred.”

Kira chuckled, a small hiccup escaping her lips. Her gaze drifted down to Sanpaku, who now slept in his owner’s arms, limbs limp as his tail. The textbook definition of peace. Lazybones, thought Kira. He’ll be cold before long outside the blanket like that. Allie’s lap did look comfortable. Crude as the thought was, Kira imagined sinking into her like a pillow, head laid against the chest that had come in with ears, and just as nicely. A trail of drool as she snored – testament to the quality of rest. Hand in hand, hairs curling together across their digits. She and Sanpaku could share. So long as the rat curled up out of reach, preferably further than spitting distance. Grease coated her tongue, and the flakey texture reminiscent of licking one of those little white sticks fresh from the chalk box.

Something soft caressed her face – soft, like a blanket wrapped pillow – a comforting embrace bearing the musk of foxes. Wind whispered through her human ears, as if she were falling.