I felt around the bottom of my jaw, looking for the seams separating the indestructible red material and the softer flesh. Finding it, I dug my claws in and pulled. The strength coursing through me disappeared in an instant. I intently looked at the person in front of me as I let go of the Blanchette face; it disappeared in the air, returning to the crystals on my palm. “This is my secret. I’m showing you because I trust you.”
It was Sunday morning, a day after Mushroom Buddy’s parade in downtown La Esperanza. We were sitting by the small breakfast nook of her house; chairs and tables with a rustic picnic set design beside a wide window that overlooked the backyard garden. The two of us had just finished breakfast when I dropped the bomb that not only was I an Adumbrae…I was also Madame Blanchette.
When I woke up after the grenade explosion, Deen had told me that she found me lying on the street, severely injured. I had accepted her story back then, but after more time to think, tendrils of suspicion came creeping in.
The rebar. She had bound my hands with steel.
Why?
At that time, I thought she was worried I might do something unpredictable when I woke up. She might not know about my powers, but she had seen my regeneration and realized I was an Adumbrae. It could also be her Guardian Angel’s instructions. Maybe be a mix of both.
Those were valid reasons.
But what if she did it because she knew about my true power? What if she had arrived earlier than she claimed and saw me as a giant werewolf?
A rebar binding seemed to be excessive, especially given Deen’s personality. I had been living with her for some time and hadn’t done anything bad. Furthermore, she also had super strength and her Guardian Angel, so she shouldn’t be that cautious if she thought I was just a new Adumbrae.
However, if she already knew I was Blanchette, then why hide it?
I had no answer.
Deen’s eyes were wide open after seeing my transformation. Her gaze flicked back and forth from my right hand, which had held the Blanchette face, to my own face. Breathing evenly, she slowly leaned back in her seat. Her arms were stiff, her hands tightly grasping the edge of the table. “Yo-you’re Madame Blanchette,” she shakily said, her voice was almost a whisper.
“Yes, I am.” I examined her body language, looking for signs that her surprise wasn’t genuine. Not that it was any help in confirming my suspicions; these were all just normal reactions I could fake in my sleep. For all I knew, the Guardian Angel could be telling her exactly what to do so I wouldn’t become aggressive.
How was one supposed to react to a revelation that their friend could turn into a giant werewolf? I had no personal experience with this, obviously, and I didn’t know or witness anyone react to a similar situation. It was kind of rare for someone to admit they were an Adumbrae, duh.
My only guide was those cheesy romantic drama movies where one of the couples became an Adumbrae and they told their partner the truth. Those movies were horrible and unrealistic. And they didn’t even apply to this scenario. I hated these moments when I had no reference for predicting approximate normal human behavior.
Deen shook her head to snap herself from the shock—'supposed shock’ that I wasn’t still sure I believed. “Sorry...Blanchette is just a name I made up for her, for you. Um, Red Hood—”
“Not that. I like Blanchette better.”
“Oh, Blanchette then.” She massaged her back while looking away. “Er, I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, then. Allow me to go first. I’m sorry for keeping everything a secret from you—”
“No, you don’t have to apologize for that,” Deen empathically said.
“—and I’ll understand if you want me to go away because—”
“No!”
“—because I killed and ate—"
"You stay here with me.”
“Deen…I can’t control myself when I transform. I’m a monster.” Playing the victim card, a favorite from my deck of manipulation.
She stopped massaging her back and reached for my hand. “Erind. Listen…listen to me…”
“I’m listening.” It was an immense struggle not to pull back from her touch. Seriously, there’d come a day when she’d surprise me with her touchy-feeliness and I’d just slap her or even punch her out of reflex. Her Guardian Angel would probably just tell her to evade. And I had the ever-handy excuse that my ‘evil’ Adumbrae side was getting to me.
“Let’s calm down.”
“Okay.” I kind of wanted to emotionally blitz her to catch her in a lie, but I relaxed so I could observe how she’d react on her own.
“Give me a moment to process this.”
I nodded. I really want to pull away!
She closed her eyes, shrugging her left shoulder a bit before sitting up straight, still holding my hand.
Unlike Myra’s situation, where I had to admit to her I was Blanchette to guilt-trip her that she was the reason I became an Adumbrae, I needn’t tell Deen about this. However, this was the way to know if Deen was lying. Even if I couldn’t tell if she was just pretending now, by revealing the truth, I could eventually catch inconsistencies in her words and actions. I could offhandedly drop wrong information about my fight with Auron and all those assholes, checking how she’d react.
And if I was wrong to doubt her, this was still an incredible offer of trust which, knowing Deen, she’d reciprocate severalfold. It’d also be easier to manipulate Deen, Myra, and Johann, and make them work together for my benefit if they all knew about my power. My Blanchette power.
I was going to keep Pino up my sleeve, especially because it had the power to control bodies.
Whether or not Deen lied about not knowing I was Blanchette wouldn’t really matter much were it not for that stupid grenade that knocked me out of commission.
I replayed that moment several times before I went to sleep yesterday, trying to remember as much as possible of what happened before the explosion. I threw a large piece of the parasite's hardened cocoon thingy at Finlay. He fired a rocket launcher. The projectile and the shard connected. The blast blew me away. Next, I heard the van’s tires screeching off before a thunk of the grenade on the pavement. And then, boom!
Who threw that grenade?
The old man was driving the van. Auron was a potato. Finlay? He had just fired a missile at me. Assuming it was him, then he had to jump into the van, grab a grenade, correctly guess where to throw it because there was smoke everywhere, and that was all while the van was driving away. Still possible, but a very long stretch.
However, if I was right that Deen knew I was Blanchette…then she would’ve been there during the fight. But why didn’t she help me then?
Grenades were lying around from Finlay’s terracotta army that got poofed away because of Auron’s power. Could she have thrown one at me? The thought sounded stupid. But there was just some stuff that didn't add up that made me suspicious of her.
“Okay.” Deen tightened her grip on my hand and opened her eyes after several seconds of silence. “First, I want to say thank you for being honest with me. Really, this takes a lot of courage, and know that I’ll accept you no matter what.”
Her speech sounded like it was for something else. “Uh, yeah. I-I don’t want to hide from you anything.”
“Second, I’m going to repeat what I said to you yesterday: There’s no need to explain anything if you don’t want to.”
“But I want to tell the truth,” I insisted. “Sanders. That was when I became an Adumbrae. It was a lie that I met a mysterious woman. She was me!” I essentially told her what I had told Myra about Blanchette, including that I couldn’t fully control the transformation and that it was a defense mechanism if I was hurt.
However, I didn't tell Deen that it was Myra who had injured me, just brushing it off as an unknown Adumbrae. I couldn't gauge how she'd react to the truth. Would she be angry with Myra? Probably. My plan to use Deen, Myra, and Johann wouldn't work if they'd mistrust each other. I also kept Myra's information about Dario's sketchiness a secret. It might be better if both Myra and Johann were present when I'd tell Deen about it.
“Erind,” she interjected in the middle of my explanation about what happened at the docks. “There’s no need to justify yourself to me. I know you’re a good person.”
“Bu-but, I’m an Adum—”
“Nothing has changed between us.”
Deen was so fucking nice that she was making me rethink my suspicions. What if she was there during the fight, but Auron’s powers nullified her Guardian Angel and she became paralyzed with fear? That’d explain her tears—guilt gnawed her conscience that she didn’t help me. And she didn’t want to admit she stood by without lifting a finger so she just lied about how she found me.
As for the grenade, it could’ve been Finlay with a lucky throw. Or Deen with an unlucky throwing, aiming at the van but somehow chucking it at me instead—this could also be why she was crying a lot.
Maybe, just maybe, I should stop assuming the worst of people?
Nah.
“At least”, I said, “let me tell you about what happened yesterday.” I was already armed with a fake story and didn’t want it to go to waste.
I told Deen that Myra and I split up, with Myra going to the police station where Johann worked while I made my way to Marshall Avenue to find Everett and Reo. I ran into the 2Ms’ men, got injured, my powers activated, the fight escalated, and the rest was history until I got super hurt and she found me.
I didn’t need to lie to her about this. And it meant I had to talk to Myra and Johann to coordinate this fake story. However, this was another test of trustworthiness. If Deen investigated what happened at the police station and I heard about it, that'd set off alarm bells. If she confronted me about it, I’d act hurt and all that, gaining the emotional upper hand. I wanted as many early-warning ‘devices’ as possible if it turned out I was right to assume the worst of Deen.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share your secret,” Deen said. She ramped up her violation of my personal space by entwining our fingers. I relaxed my hand even though I was burning with the urge to break her bones into dozens of fragments. Continuing her emotional spiel, she said, “I knew there was a reason why I wanted to trust Blanchette in that underground arena.”
“You saved me there,” I said. “I don’t think I thanked you for it. Without you, I’d probably be dead.” And I did my best to add sincerity to my expression of gratitude. A hundred percent of my ass would’ve been toasted by the Greaves Reactor explosion. Yet, I couldn’t squeeze genuine sincerity out of my body, so an approximation it had to be.
“That reminds me!”
“What?”
“My blood.”
“I don’t—huh?”
“You drunk it.”
Well, this is awkward. “I…I’m so sorry! The… Adumbrae…it was the Adumbrae inside me. It influenced me during my transformation. You see, I grow stronger when I eat parts of people who hurt me. But if it was solely me, I’d never ask for your blood. Again, I’m sorry—”
“Was that why you told me to stab you with a knife if you get severely hurt? I recall you couldn’t eat the monster you were fighting.”
“Uh, yeah. Really sorry I couldn’t control myself there. I know you think it’s disgusting.”
“It’s fine, Erind.” She held my hand tighter. I almost hissed. She said, “It did help you, right? And then you did beat them. I’d be devastated if you had died because I didn’t give you my blood.”
“Thank you,” I said. The possibility that she threw the grenade was becoming more unlikely in my head. She did save me as Blanchette. Twice. First during my fight with Mr. Ogre, and the second time when I was on a rampage before the BID agents decided to blow up the place. Was I too paranoid? “I’m blessed to have you as my friend. But I’ll make sure I won’t ask for blood from you again.”
“Erind,” Deen said firmly, her expression determined. “Anything you need, like my blood again, I’ll give it to you. Or my arm, or—”
“I’m not going to do that!” What was up with her? She seemed to be super willing to help that it was almost disturbing. “I’m not going to eat any part of you, okay? Not one drop of blood.” I had been wrong about Deen before. Many times, in fact. Perhaps, I was wrong again to doubt her. She really might be my most trustworthy and useful ally.
“Just saying, that’s what regeneration is for.” She let go of my hand, patting it a couple of times before standing up. “That’s enough talk of the heavy stuff. I got you something.” She walked to the fridge and took out a couple of containers.
“What are those?”
“Ice cream. I remembered you wanted pastries, but I wasn’t able to bring any from the party at city hall because, you know. I had a couple of pints delivered yesterday while you were resting in your room.”
“Aw, you didn’t have to,” I said, but my mouth was already watering. Whenever I was stressed or tired from dealing with a lot of shit, I craved sweets. My previous go-to was the milk tea packed with tons of sugar from the vending machine at my condo. Ice cream was a fine alternative. It made me remember my short stint as a looter.
“Strawberry or chocolate?”
“Chocolate.”
“Okay then.” She returned the other one to the fridge.
I rushed over to her. “This might sound weird, but I actually prefer melted ice cream.” This was in accordance with Rule #10, I’d only eat melted ice cream, a Rule that had a dumb origin. We had an ice cream maker at home and used to make ice cream every weekend when I was a kid. I liked the mixture before it was turned to ice cream and my stupid kid brain thought it would go back to that if I let it melt.
“Really?”
“Yep, I’ll just microwave this if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.” Deen gave me a judgmental raised brow before returning to the breakfast corner.
The downside of microwaving ice cream was that it wouldn’t be evenly softened. The center would remain rock hard while the edges would already be watery. But it wasn’t like there was a better way of melting it fast short of chucking it into a boiling pot of water.
Back to the table in front of Deen, I tried fitting my spoon between the ice cream’s still solid middle part and the walls of the tub to scoop out the melted goodness. “Can’t get…spoon in—oops!” I accidentally bent it with too much force. “I’m sorry, Deen. I’ll fix this.”
“You have peculiar eating habits,” she said, smiling as she nestled her chin on her palms with her elbows on the table. “Very interesting to observe.”
“You make it sound like I’m an animal at the zoo.” I tried my best to fix the spoon back to its original shape. “Does this look okay?”
“It does look a bit straight, I guess. I don’t mind. We have plenty of spoons in the drawer if you want.”
“I’ll just use this one.” I stood up with the pint of ice cream and said, “But I think I’ll heat this again.” I sloshed the tub around, checking how much had melted. With both hands, I turned it bottoms up to drink everything that had turned liquid before I’d put it back in the microwave. Rule #10 was one of the rare occasions my taste and Rules coincided. And I deserved all these sugar and calories after having nearly died several times and living with possibly a murderous best friend.
“If only Everett is here,” Deen said as she snickered at what I was doing, “then he can—”
“Huh?” I put down the tub and wiped my creamy mustache. “You were say—uh, Deen?”
She wasn’t moving in her seat. Frozen more like, her mouth open mid-sentence, eyes unblinking. I walked over to check her. There was something wrong if that wasn’t obvious already. My movements felt sluggish, weirdly hazy with my legs a bit rubbery. Getting to Deen was like traversing an unending corridor in a dream though she was just a few feet away.
I poked her cheek. It felt tough. This shouldn’t be even if she had an artificial Core stuck to her chest. My flesh was still soft and only became very durable when it came to injuries—I truly had no idea how that worked. I moved my finger away. The small dimple from where I had poked her remained as if her face was play dough.
Then I ran my hand through her hair, which was weirdly heavy and stiff, lifting strands and letting them fall from my fingers. Her hair stayed in the air for a few seconds before dropping down like golden stage curtains closing in slow motion.
I should probably stop messing with Deen. Given the extremely bizarre scenario, I should’ve been worried and on my guard, maybe adding in a bit of panic. However, I was calm. This sensation was familiar. I was sort of expecting this. Taking ages to turn around in this woozy atmosphere, I finally saw the person I begrudgingly half-wanted to meet again.
SpookyErind.
Temple
Each possibility considered by Erind of what truly happened has its implications and consequences. Whether she is right or wrong with her thoughts, there are bound to be a lot of misunderstandings and drama in the future.
Rule #10 was mentioned in passing during the chapter Erind was looting stores. She didn't explain what it was, just that it took time for her to eat ice cream.
I felt around the bottom of my jaw, looking for the seams separating the indestructible red material and the softer flesh. Finding it, I dug my claws in and pulled. The strength coursing through me disappeared in an instant. I intently looked at the person in front of me as I let go of the Blanchette face; it disappeared in the air, returning to the crystals on my palm. “This is my secret. I’m showing you because I trust you.”
It was Sunday morning, a day after Mushroom Buddy’s parade in downtown La Esperanza. We were sitting by the small breakfast nook of her house; chairs and tables with a rustic picnic set design beside a wide window that overlooked the backyard garden. The two of us had just finished breakfast when I dropped the bomb that not only was I an Adumbrae…I was also Madame Blanchette.
When I woke up after the grenade explosion, Deen had told me that she found me lying on the street, severely injured. I had accepted her story back then, but after more time to think, tendrils of suspicion came creeping in.
The rebar. She had bound my hands with steel.
Why?
At that time, I thought she was worried I might do something unpredictable when I woke up. She might not know about my powers, but she had seen my regeneration and realized I was an Adumbrae. It could also be her Guardian Angel’s instructions. Maybe be a mix of both.
Those were valid reasons.
But what if she did it because she knew about my true power? What if she had arrived earlier than she claimed and saw me as a giant werewolf?
A rebar binding seemed to be excessive, especially given Deen’s personality. I had been living with her for some time and hadn’t done anything bad. Furthermore, she also had super strength and her Guardian Angel, so she shouldn’t be that cautious if she thought I was just a new Adumbrae.
However, if she already knew I was Blanchette, then why hide it?
I had no answer.
Deen’s eyes were wide open after seeing my transformation. Her gaze flicked back and forth from my right hand, which had held the Blanchette face, to my own face. Breathing evenly, she slowly leaned back in her seat. Her arms were stiff, her hands tightly grasping the edge of the table. “Yo-you’re Madame Blanchette,” she shakily said, her voice was almost a whisper.
“Yes, I am.” I examined her body language, looking for signs that her surprise wasn’t genuine. Not that it was any help in confirming my suspicions; these were all just normal reactions I could fake in my sleep. For all I knew, the Guardian Angel could be telling her exactly what to do so I wouldn’t become aggressive.
How was one supposed to react to a revelation that their friend could turn into a giant werewolf? I had no personal experience with this, obviously, and I didn’t know or witness anyone react to a similar situation. It was kind of rare for someone to admit they were an Adumbrae, duh.
My only guide was those cheesy romantic drama movies where one of the couples became an Adumbrae and they told their partner the truth. Those movies were horrible and unrealistic. And they didn’t even apply to this scenario. I hated these moments when I had no reference for predicting approximate normal human behavior.
Deen shook her head to snap herself from the shock—'supposed shock’ that I wasn’t still sure I believed. “Sorry...Blanchette is just a name I made up for her, for you. Um, Red Hood—”
“Not that. I like Blanchette better.”
“Oh, Blanchette then.” She massaged her back while looking away. “Er, I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, then. Allow me to go first. I’m sorry for keeping everything a secret from you—”
“No, you don’t have to apologize for that,” Deen empathically said.
“—and I’ll understand if you want me to go away because—”
“No!”
“—because I killed and ate—"
"You stay here with me.”
“Deen…I can’t control myself when I transform. I’m a monster.” Playing the victim card, a favorite from my deck of manipulation.
She stopped massaging her back and reached for my hand. “Erind. Listen…listen to me…”
“I’m listening.” It was an immense struggle not to pull back from her touch. Seriously, there’d come a day when she’d surprise me with her touchy-feeliness and I’d just slap her or even punch her out of reflex. Her Guardian Angel would probably just tell her to evade. And I had the ever-handy excuse that my ‘evil’ Adumbrae side was getting to me.
“Let’s calm down.”
“Okay.” I kind of wanted to emotionally blitz her to catch her in a lie, but I relaxed so I could observe how she’d react on her own.
“Give me a moment to process this.”
I nodded. I really want to pull away!
She closed her eyes, shrugging her left shoulder a bit before sitting up straight, still holding my hand.
Unlike Myra’s situation, where I had to admit to her I was Blanchette to guilt-trip her that she was the reason I became an Adumbrae, I needn’t tell Deen about this. However, this was the way to know if Deen was lying. Even if I couldn’t tell if she was just pretending now, by revealing the truth, I could eventually catch inconsistencies in her words and actions. I could offhandedly drop wrong information about my fight with Auron and all those assholes, checking how she’d react.
And if I was wrong to doubt her, this was still an incredible offer of trust which, knowing Deen, she’d reciprocate severalfold. It’d also be easier to manipulate Deen, Myra, and Johann, and make them work together for my benefit if they all knew about my power. My Blanchette power.
I was going to keep Pino up my sleeve, especially because it had the power to control bodies.
Whether or not Deen lied about not knowing I was Blanchette wouldn’t really matter much were it not for that stupid grenade that knocked me out of commission.
I replayed that moment several times before I went to sleep yesterday, trying to remember as much as possible of what happened before the explosion. I threw a large piece of the parasite's hardened cocoon thingy at Finlay. He fired a rocket launcher. The projectile and the shard connected. The blast blew me away. Next, I heard the van’s tires screeching off before a thunk of the grenade on the pavement. And then, boom!
Who threw that grenade?
The old man was driving the van. Auron was a potato. Finlay? He had just fired a missile at me. Assuming it was him, then he had to jump into the van, grab a grenade, correctly guess where to throw it because there was smoke everywhere, and that was all while the van was driving away. Still possible, but a very long stretch.
However, if I was right that Deen knew I was Blanchette…then she would’ve been there during the fight. But why didn’t she help me then?
Grenades were lying around from Finlay’s terracotta army that got poofed away because of Auron’s power. Could she have thrown one at me? The thought sounded stupid. But there was just some stuff that didn't add up that made me suspicious of her.
“Okay.” Deen tightened her grip on my hand and opened her eyes after several seconds of silence. “First, I want to say thank you for being honest with me. Really, this takes a lot of courage, and know that I’ll accept you no matter what.”
Her speech sounded like it was for something else. “Uh, yeah. I-I don’t want to hide from you anything.”
“Second, I’m going to repeat what I said to you yesterday: There’s no need to explain anything if you don’t want to.”
“But I want to tell the truth,” I insisted. “Sanders. That was when I became an Adumbrae. It was a lie that I met a mysterious woman. She was me!” I essentially told her what I had told Myra about Blanchette, including that I couldn’t fully control the transformation and that it was a defense mechanism if I was hurt.
However, I didn't tell Deen that it was Myra who had injured me, just brushing it off as an unknown Adumbrae. I couldn't gauge how she'd react to the truth. Would she be angry with Myra? Probably. My plan to use Deen, Myra, and Johann wouldn't work if they'd mistrust each other. I also kept Myra's information about Dario's sketchiness a secret. It might be better if both Myra and Johann were present when I'd tell Deen about it.
“Erind,” she interjected in the middle of my explanation about what happened at the docks. “There’s no need to justify yourself to me. I know you’re a good person.”
“Bu-but, I’m an Adum—”
“Nothing has changed between us.”
Deen was so fucking nice that she was making me rethink my suspicions. What if she was there during the fight, but Auron’s powers nullified her Guardian Angel and she became paralyzed with fear? That’d explain her tears—guilt gnawed her conscience that she didn’t help me. And she didn’t want to admit she stood by without lifting a finger so she just lied about how she found me.
As for the grenade, it could’ve been Finlay with a lucky throw. Or Deen with an unlucky throwing, aiming at the van but somehow chucking it at me instead—this could also be why she was crying a lot.
Maybe, just maybe, I should stop assuming the worst of people?
Nah.
“At least”, I said, “let me tell you about what happened yesterday.” I was already armed with a fake story and didn’t want it to go to waste.
I told Deen that Myra and I split up, with Myra going to the police station where Johann worked while I made my way to Marshall Avenue to find Everett and Reo. I ran into the 2Ms’ men, got injured, my powers activated, the fight escalated, and the rest was history until I got super hurt and she found me.
I didn’t need to lie to her about this. And it meant I had to talk to Myra and Johann to coordinate this fake story. However, this was another test of trustworthiness. If Deen investigated what happened at the police station and I heard about it, that'd set off alarm bells. If she confronted me about it, I’d act hurt and all that, gaining the emotional upper hand. I wanted as many early-warning ‘devices’ as possible if it turned out I was right to assume the worst of Deen.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share your secret,” Deen said. She ramped up her violation of my personal space by entwining our fingers. I relaxed my hand even though I was burning with the urge to break her bones into dozens of fragments. Continuing her emotional spiel, she said, “I knew there was a reason why I wanted to trust Blanchette in that underground arena.”
“You saved me there,” I said. “I don’t think I thanked you for it. Without you, I’d probably be dead.” And I did my best to add sincerity to my expression of gratitude. A hundred percent of my ass would’ve been toasted by the Greaves Reactor explosion. Yet, I couldn’t squeeze genuine sincerity out of my body, so an approximation it had to be.
“That reminds me!”
“What?”
“My blood.”
“I don’t—huh?”
“You drunk it.”
Well, this is awkward. “I…I’m so sorry! The… Adumbrae…it was the Adumbrae inside me. It influenced me during my transformation. You see, I grow stronger when I eat parts of people who hurt me. But if it was solely me, I’d never ask for your blood. Again, I’m sorry—”
“Was that why you told me to stab you with a knife if you get severely hurt? I recall you couldn’t eat the monster you were fighting.”
“Uh, yeah. Really sorry I couldn’t control myself there. I know you think it’s disgusting.”
“It’s fine, Erind.” She held my hand tighter. I almost hissed. She said, “It did help you, right? And then you did beat them. I’d be devastated if you had died because I didn’t give you my blood.”
“Thank you,” I said. The possibility that she threw the grenade was becoming more unlikely in my head. She did save me as Blanchette. Twice. First during my fight with Mr. Ogre, and the second time when I was on a rampage before the BID agents decided to blow up the place. Was I too paranoid? “I’m blessed to have you as my friend. But I’ll make sure I won’t ask for blood from you again.”
“Erind,” Deen said firmly, her expression determined. “Anything you need, like my blood again, I’ll give it to you. Or my arm, or—”
“I’m not going to do that!” What was up with her? She seemed to be super willing to help that it was almost disturbing. “I’m not going to eat any part of you, okay? Not one drop of blood.” I had been wrong about Deen before. Many times, in fact. Perhaps, I was wrong again to doubt her. She really might be my most trustworthy and useful ally.
“Just saying, that’s what regeneration is for.” She let go of my hand, patting it a couple of times before standing up. “That’s enough talk of the heavy stuff. I got you something.” She walked to the fridge and took out a couple of containers.
“What are those?”
“Ice cream. I remembered you wanted pastries, but I wasn’t able to bring any from the party at city hall because, you know. I had a couple of pints delivered yesterday while you were resting in your room.”
“Aw, you didn’t have to,” I said, but my mouth was already watering. Whenever I was stressed or tired from dealing with a lot of shit, I craved sweets. My previous go-to was the milk tea packed with tons of sugar from the vending machine at my condo. Ice cream was a fine alternative. It made me remember my short stint as a looter.
“Strawberry or chocolate?”
“Chocolate.”
“Okay then.” She returned the other one to the fridge.
I rushed over to her. “This might sound weird, but I actually prefer melted ice cream.” This was in accordance with Rule #10, I’d only eat melted ice cream, a Rule that had a dumb origin. We had an ice cream maker at home and used to make ice cream every weekend when I was a kid. I liked the mixture before it was turned to ice cream and my stupid kid brain thought it would go back to that if I let it melt.
“Really?”
“Yep, I’ll just microwave this if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.” Deen gave me a judgmental raised brow before returning to the breakfast corner.
The downside of microwaving ice cream was that it wouldn’t be evenly softened. The center would remain rock hard while the edges would already be watery. But it wasn’t like there was a better way of melting it fast short of chucking it into a boiling pot of water.
Back to the table in front of Deen, I tried fitting my spoon between the ice cream’s still solid middle part and the walls of the tub to scoop out the melted goodness. “Can’t get…spoon in—oops!” I accidentally bent it with too much force. “I’m sorry, Deen. I’ll fix this.”
“You have peculiar eating habits,” she said, smiling as she nestled her chin on her palms with her elbows on the table. “Very interesting to observe.”
“You make it sound like I’m an animal at the zoo.” I tried my best to fix the spoon back to its original shape. “Does this look okay?”
“It does look a bit straight, I guess. I don’t mind. We have plenty of spoons in the drawer if you want.”
“I’ll just use this one.” I stood up with the pint of ice cream and said, “But I think I’ll heat this again.” I sloshed the tub around, checking how much had melted. With both hands, I turned it bottoms up to drink everything that had turned liquid before I’d put it back in the microwave. Rule #10 was one of the rare occasions my taste and Rules coincided. And I deserved all these sugar and calories after having nearly died several times and living with possibly a murderous best friend.
“If only Everett is here,” Deen said as she snickered at what I was doing, “then he can—”
“Huh?” I put down the tub and wiped my creamy mustache. “You were say—uh, Deen?”
She wasn’t moving in her seat. Frozen more like, her mouth open mid-sentence, eyes unblinking. I walked over to check her. There was something wrong if that wasn’t obvious already. My movements felt sluggish, weirdly hazy with my legs a bit rubbery. Getting to Deen was like traversing an unending corridor in a dream though she was just a few feet away.
I poked her cheek. It felt tough. This shouldn’t be even if she had an artificial Core stuck to her chest. My flesh was still soft and only became very durable when it came to injuries—I truly had no idea how that worked. I moved my finger away. The small dimple from where I had poked her remained as if her face was play dough.
Then I ran my hand through her hair, which was weirdly heavy and stiff, lifting strands and letting them fall from my fingers. Her hair stayed in the air for a few seconds before dropping down like golden stage curtains closing in slow motion.
I should probably stop messing with Deen. Given the extremely bizarre scenario, I should’ve been worried and on my guard, maybe adding in a bit of panic. However, I was calm. This sensation was familiar. I was sort of expecting this. Taking ages to turn around in this woozy atmosphere, I finally saw the person I begrudgingly half-wanted to meet again.
SpookyErind.
Temple
Each possibility considered by Erind of what truly happened has its implications and consequences. Whether she is right or wrong with her thoughts, there are bound to be a lot of misunderstandings and drama in the future.
Rule #10 was mentioned in passing during the chapter Erind was looting stores. She didn't explain what it was, just that it took time for her to eat ice cream.
