{Gait}

Technically, Sagan didn’t lie to Korac. A big meeting awaited her particular skill-set on Earth. But first, a quick drop in on the primary mission.

Razor’s Emporium of Exotic Experiences. The sign projected against the starless purple sky. Sagan questioned all her contacts throughout the Vast Collective about this place and its Curator. Less than forthcoming put it mildly. No one spoke over two words on the subject. And those two words were always the same.

“Don’t. Go.”

The line in front of the glass revolving door garnered a bouncer and a velvet rope. Classy. When they rolled out an actual red carpet, Sagan rolled her eyes and folded her arms. Leaning against a wall across the street, she caught a rare glimpse of an anti-grav car. Sleek lines, chrome paint, and it hovered a foot off the road. Maybe two or three of those babies existed on the entire planet.

The Tritan, who stepped out with an usher’s help, took the arm of a Reipon Lamia in a magnificent little black dress. No compression orb in sight. But there was something slimy about colluding with their archivists.

A glimmer caught Sagan’s eye beyond the Tritan entering the Emporium. Through the revolving door. On the mezzanine.

Razor watched the Seamswalker. Not his line. Or his fancy guests. He stared right at her. The bastard even smirked when she cussed at his observation.

The guy gave her the serious creeps.

But since he spotted her, it was time to properly introduce herself. Last time, he caught her off guard. It wouldn’t happen again.

Sagan stepped away from the wall. Wearing thigh-high boots, she smiled at how much Korac appreciated the stilettos. She glided across the street in her violet armored coat. Axes on her hips. Her man’s kiss on her lips. Armed. Ready.

Skipping the line, she Seamswalked right through the bouncer. The Pain Curator watched every step. When she Seamswalked onto the mezzanine, he shook his head with an arrogant smile. The stuffy crowd gasped and gaped. The corrugated metal flooring connected with her heels on a satisfying “clunk.” It added weight to her entrance. An entrance she knew Korac would’ve applauded. It was for him, after all.

The creep in question, like many creeps, looked quite attractive. Especially in a three-piece white tux that contrasted with his tan skin and red hair. Those eyes, though. They gave his true nature away. In the green half, a light swirled, but the orange half? Flat. Dead.

Sagan looked at the people still murmuring about her. Dollar amounts for her pain were among the chatter. The building? She could see the elegance, but it smelled of gluttony and avarice.

“Did I come at a bad time?”

Razor’s grin pulled at the rugged angles of his face. “Damn, Seamswalker. You’re making my guests envious. Who could top that entrance?” He raked his eyes down her body. “Are all the Progeny this arresting?”

She ignored the glance and the question. Resigning herself to tolerate the testing of her boundaries, she remarked, “Quite the gala.”

The grin narrowed into a smirk. A secret one that said, “I will wear you down, eventually.”

His words said, “In honor of my new expansion. Would you care to join me?” With his cane, he indicated to the addition below.

Sagan peered down at the crooked arm he offered. When she looked back up to his eyes, she gave her own secret smile. And Seamswalked to the addition.

Again the crowd gawked. Amateurs. The creepy Tritan with the anti-grav car nearly salivated at her.

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Do. Not. Shudder.

The Pain Curator glided down his spiral staircase and swept across the expanse to her side. He nodded for the quartet to resume the music. Whispering to a caterer, he glanced at Sagan.

Finally, Razor reached her, “What would you like to see first?”

She turned her back on him and wandered into the shop. The people still stared at her, but with more subtlety. Maybe even a little jealousy, what with her private tour from the owner and all. Some aggression in Sagan repeated, “That’s right, motherfuckers. I can summon monsters you can’t imagine and certainly can’t fight—”

“You’re lost.”

Sagan closed her eyes to his words. She trailed her fingers across the nacre glass items on the crystal shelves. The pretty track lighting made them glow like amber. “What makes you say that?” The everyday goods—dishes, game boards, figurines—cost hundreds of thousands of credits. All made of nacre glass.

“Because I see that expression on many people that patron my wares.” Razor watched her with that half-dead, half-alive gaze as he continued, “Have you ever considered—”

A drunk couple stumbled into the room with many giggles. After one glance from the Pain Curator, they sobered the hell up and left.

She Seamswalked behind him. “Considered what?”

Languidly, he turned and locked eyes with her. His voice almost sounded sad as he asked, “Why you love the pain?”

Before she covered her reaction, Sagan’s eyes widened.

The bright white space pulsed once. “One moment.” He left her there with the question she wondered many times herself. Korac made her feel good. She trusted him. But was there anything wrong with her—

“Hungry?” Razor silently laughed at his own double-entendres and offered her a small plate of hor d’oeuvres.

It smelled amazing. And all the Seamswalking left her famished. Although something warned her not to eat it, she ignored it. If shit went sideways, she could simply walk out. Besides, why travel if one wasn’t willing to try the local cuisine?

Sagan plucked one and popped it in her mouth. And then moaned. Spicy, smoky, sweet. So good.

One glance at Razor made her regret the sound. He looked so pleased with himself. “Yun Gecko.”

She immediately spat it out on the nearest item for sale. No fucks given. “They don’t allow harvesting, hunting, or eating of animals on Yu. It’s punishable by death.” Life was sacred to them.

The Pain Curator’s smirk condescended on her apparent naivety. “It’s quite the delicacy.”

Eyes closed. Deep breath. Count to ten. Do not. Fuck up. His store. Hell, his entire Emporium teetered on the brink of destruction. What a messed up tactic to unnerve her.

She opened her eyes.

Razor looked sad. Genuinely, unhappy with himself. “I apologize. I thought you’d enjoy it. I mean, you seemed to.”

“Stop serving it.”

He inclined his head as if he misheard her.

“Now. Stop serving it. If you want me as a customer… Hell, if you ever want customers from Earth or Cinder… Serve no meat from Yu again.”

The Pain Curator didn’t hesitate. He left the room and when he returned, he asked, “Would you like to verify for yourself?”

After Seamswalking around the place and the extremely well-stocked kitchen, she returned to the shop. He waited for her with the same forlorn look on his face.

Quietly, she confirmed, “Gone.”

“I want to establish a trust with you, Sagan. With Earth and Cinder. I imagine an assorted human and Icarean clientele would appreciate my experiences. I see it in your own curiosity. So, perhaps, you can pilot this flagship for trade? I could cultivate your experiences, myself.”

Razor crossed the shop to stand over her. “And in time, we can get to know each other. I’ve been around a while. I can answer your questions about the Vast Collective. And perhaps use some of my connections to make your Icarean General’s stay more comfortable.”

That lifted Sagan’s gaze. The green in his eyes glowed with sincerity. The red reflected her like a glossy glare. The promise and the threat. She internalized her seething rage.

Every time the Pain Curator moved, she expected him to touch her. But he never crossed that line. No. He managed well enough with words alone. “With a sample of your pain, I can tailor every nuance to suit your… needs. Explore your relationship with pain. Understand yourself.”

The coat Sagan wore as a dress covered her nudity, but Razor still made her feel naked. She ducked her gaze as she considered the mission.

A weakness lingered in her. A need she couldn’t fathom. With so many wonderful things in her life, how could she remain so conflicted? Superpowered. Super awesome friends. Super awesome, superpowered friends.

But… an emptiness required filling. If she accepted this exchange, was she at risk of falling into Razor’s infinity?

His voice startled her when he whispered, “Take some time to think on it. A few days—”

“I want to bring a friend with me.”

Razor smiled and bowed with his head. “Of course. The Progeny are always welcome—”

“He’s human. But trust me. He’s not like any human on Earth.”

The man looked more delighted with each surprise. “I look forward to seeing you both in a few days. Now, would you like me to walk you to do the door—”

Sagan walked into the Seam.

But in her wake, she heard Razor say, “Of course not.”