3: Foggy Days Suck

“As do long hauls.”

No one looked at Stevie or Silly Nia as they noisily rolled onto the inbound scale, but they sure heard it thanks to Stevie’s unmuffled exhaust. The semi’s thunderous engine rattled the scalehouse’s thin windows, threatening to break them with each thump from the twelve cylinders.

The engine shuddered, gasping for one final breath before it let out a soft hiss.

An eerie silence fell across the cramped cab. Enough so that Nia heard Cathy Catherine’s slow breathing behind the curtains, and even the changeling’s subtle shifting as she rolled onto her back. It was the kind of silence where something was most definitely wrong, but you couldn't place what. Where all your thoughts could come rushing back all at once.

A faint snake-like hiss drifted out from one of the knobs. Nia wiggled it a bit, but it didn't help. The faded yellow knob needed replacement. As did a few of the pitted chrome bezels around the many gauges.

She could pull the knob out and apply the parking brake, or just let it leak. Why bother giving the guard hearing problems by dumping the air when she could keep the semi in place by holding the service brakes down?

It wasn't like Stevie was going to dump the air again.

Nia’s fuschia eyes moved to an additional panel where a set of four elvish runes lay inscribed into the wood. Focusing solely on one she herself had created years ago, her hand hovered over the rune, eyes aglow with magic and words whispering on the wind. A blue-green energy swirled around her hand and traced the rune at the same time.

Her spellwork was neat, orderly and easy to follow to the center where she infused some of her own energy into the windows themselves. A flash of light exploded outward from the dash, distorting Nia’s view of the port’s entrance before it returned to a clear view, except for frost on the edges, but that was from the cold fog.

Stevie’s headlights showed what they could, but they didn't help against the bay’s thick fog in the morning when Stevie was this close to the water.

Immediately to Nia’s left was the port’s guard house. A simple building that was all windows with cameras pointing directly at the semi. A scale to weigh the incoming vehicles and cameras pointing at the cab windows.

No one saw the flash except for cameras. Even then, they saw nothing change as Nia had merely refreshed the spell. A person would be unable to look directly inside the windows even through the camera.

Nia looked behind her where Cathy lay sleeping behind thick enchanted curtains. Cathy had mentioned the mall as the delivery point on the call, not Portside Docks, yet Cathy’s navigation system and phone said to go to the docks.

Nia could wake Cathy and ask, but Cathy needed the sleep with how unfocused and incoherent the changeling was only a few hours ago. She might not even wake up for the rest of the day and what then? Nia didn't know where to get the information or what jobs Cathy wanted. Probably just take the changeling home. Or to the truck stop outside Nalia at the least. Cathy did say she had another job lined up.

Nia slowly worked the manual window crank with a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, waiting to see if she would be shot by the guard or not depending on if they were supposed to be there.

“Morning!” A man said to her in common. He looked quite comfy with his greying beard and a heavy cold weather jacket.

Nia nodded. “Morning! Nice day, eh?”

“I’d ask if you dyed your eyes, but I can see you’re not the usual driver by your ears.” The guard held the clipboard close to his chest so she couldn’t see anything but the underside of it. “So where’s Phantom?”

Nia’s eyes wandered to the clipboard in the man’s hands, then back up to his face, and then drawn to movement behind the guard.

Another man stood on his tiptoes to look over the old guard’s shoulder at her. The man was clearly younger than the first guard, shorter, too.

Nia dipped her head forward in a nod. “Hello.”

The young man remained unblinking, wide eyed and jaw agape at her.

The seconds passed until the older guard turned to the younger one. “What are you doing?” the old man asked, adding, “I told you I got this truck, go watch the monitors!”

“But it’s an elf!” the younger man whispered and waved his hand toward Nia.

“And?” The older guard shrugged, pulling the clipboard away from the other man. “She needs to work just like you.”

“I’ve never seen one before! Can’t I do this?”

For fucks sake… Do you not know you live in a country ruled by a dragon?

Nia pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head side to side at the younger guard. She wasn't mad, so much as she was in disbelief at the man’s idiocy.

The older guard held the clipboard just out of the younger man’s reach. The younger man looked like a child trying to grab important documents from his father as the two wrestled for the clipboard.

Hold on. Shit! A code!

With a gasp, she grabbed Cathy’s phone from the storage compartment above the driver’s seat and scanned through the messaging app until she saw a short conversation in elvish:

‘Word of the day is Tailwind. Arrive in the morning fog before 09:00 Slip some cash to the guard in thanks. You will be reimbursed. Do not arrive late or you're done. Reply Ok.’

‘Ok.’

‘This is your final chance! Do not be late this time. Do you understand? This load cannot arrive late. The ship will not wait!’

‘I won't be.’

There wasn't anything else, so Nia fired off a simple message: ‘Here.’

‘Very Good. The guard will give you a package and the Other’s guard will tell you where to take it. Understand? Y/N?’

‘Y.’

The broker replied with a thumbs up.

Nia set the phone aside and waited for the other guard to sit back in the chair.

The younger guard folded his arms across his chest as he stared hard at a monitor linked to a camera looking directly at her. She leaned away from the window to cover her face from the camera, but it wouldn't help. It looked directly into the cab.

“So…” the old man said, holding the clipboard close to his chest.

“Phantom’s asleep in the back. The name’s Bobtail,” Nia replied and nodded. “Their sister.”

“Ah.” He nodded slowly. “Well, you’re here early, aren’t ya? Don't normally see her until later.”

“Had a tailwind if you can believe it. Flew so fast I blew the doors off a diesel bear and he went after someone else!” Nia flashed a smile at the man. She’ll be hearing about that soon.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” the guard replied with a smile of his own and held the clipboard out for her to take.

She set the clipboard on her lap, using her fingers to feel the pages for irregularities until she came across a distinct bump underneath them. “So what is with the papertrail?” Her tone was nonchalant, as it should be in such a situation.

“Management’s been up my ass about making sure drivers sign in. Someone busted into three trailers this week before anyone even knew about it. The locks weren't even touched!"

"Are you sure they didn't just smack the locks together?”

“These weren't normal locks. They were magically sealed with a special spell to decipher the keyhole.”

“You can still open them if you hit them hard enough. Trust me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But it sounds like someone used a magic door," Nia said quietly, slipping her hand underneath the paperwork to smoothly replace the envelope with three translucent pink bills. They were the size of a credit card with the image of a regal human woman on one side with a gaudy crown atop her head. The other side showed off an image of a dragon sitting atop a pile of gold. All three bills were a hundred dollars a piece.

"Check the interior walls for chalk marks,” Nia added.

"Why chalk marks?" The guard tilted his head.

"Can't open a door you don't know is there, can you?" Nia filled out the information from the message about the trailer and truck numbers, but neglected the name box.

"I suppose not.” The guard threw his arms out in a shrug. “I'll let them know to contact the Arcane Investigators."

"Leave me out when you do. I’d rather not deal with them." She held a finger out for the guard to wait and spoke again. "Now I understand the need for the truck and company number, but you want my name? Why? Other yards I go in don’t ask for my name."

"As I said, management." the guard shrugged.

“You sound like a dwarf from the Lonely Mine, but I suppose I can comply.” She put down a fake name and held the clipboard out.

The guard fumbled while pulling the cash out, practically flashing the bills in full view of everyone as he pocketed them. “Have a nice run, driver,” he replied.

She turned the key, a buzzer chimed from the dashboard while a red light illuminated in response. The cab speakers came to life playing an instrumental surf rock song, filling the cab with a smooth melodic beat akin to riding a wave. Nia waited for the light on the dash to go out, but didn’t turn the key further. She turned the radio down at the same time she spoke, “Quite the fog you've got here. Makes me think I'll get lost trying to find the office. Anything I need to know or is it still down the way?”

“You’re going directly to the boat. Follow the blue line south and turn right when you get to the second intersection. Go all the way past the first warehouse and make a left." the guard replied. “You can’t miss it.”

Na nodded in reply. “First warehouse and make a left. Got it."

Stevie let out a shrill squeal from the air-starter, just before the Centura engine kicked in with a window shaking roar once more.

*** ***

Fog and trailers. That's all that greeted Areannia as she slowly crept through the port facility, Stevie’s large engine wishing to go faster but settling on a comforting low rumble.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Open windows allowed frigid, salty air to flow inside and replace Cathy’s stale cigarette smoke. The heater kicked on all on its own to keep the cab somewhat comfortable, but it barely helped.

Still, the open windows were needed to hear the sneaky container loaders driving around like they were race car drivers, zipping between container stacks and down narrow roadways between buildings without a care for other people. Half the time you didn't see them until they were passing you!

Following the path the guard told her to go, Areannia’s hand tapped the door in time with the drums, causing the fairy lights above her to pulse and dance with the beat. It didn't take long to arrive at a clearing in the fog where the ship was.

An old and crusty vessel best sent to the scrapper, however at one time in the distant past it would ferry both passengers and cargo between the planet shards. Quite a bit smaller than most nowadays, but at its prime, the ship was likely fast. Unfit for hauling more than four or five modern forty foot containers on its deck with three already on it.

A single funnel sat roughly in the center of the vessel with the rear two-thirds of the ship being taken up by the crew cabins and wheelhouse. Only the front third was mostly open for cargo.

How such a small and decrepit ship still operated was beyond Areannia’s knowledge. All she cared about was getting the job done and getting paid.

A midnight purple-skinned half-elf with silver hair waved Areannia over, pointing close to the side of the vessel. The half-elf wore a heavy coat to keep the cold at bay and still looked freezing. His cowboy hat was completely out of place at the docks.

She followed the instructions, pulling the whole semi parallel with the ship and as close to the pier's edge as she could get without going into the water or hitting the bollards keeping the vessel in place.

The half-elf held both hands in a straight line and motioned for her to keep coming forward. Then he pointed one to the right slightly, followed by straightening it.

She mimicked his movements in the cab until the whole truck and trailer were perfectly situated under a shipboard crane. Areannia pulled both the yellow parking brake and red trailer air supply knobs on the dash. Outside, an ear piercing hiss kicked out from the valves outside, deafening anyone close enough as the semi-truck dumped all the air in the lines to set the brakes.

The half-elf came close to the driver’s door and shouted, “Mornin’! How’s things?” He held the flap of his coat in a way that’d allow him to quickly pull it open with a hand near it.

“Oh, you know, flying on a tailwind and blowing the doors off other trucks. The usual with our gal Stevie here.” Areannia shrugged. She rested her hand over Cathy’s hidden pistol and waited for the silver haired man to speak or draw his hidden gun.

He waved to the other workers, shouting in common, “Get the trailer unhooked!” The man climbed the side of the cab, causing it to rock oddly on the worn out shocks. Air hissed from the cab’s suspension as it tried in vain to smooth the momentum.

“Where's the usual driver?” the half-elf asked Areannia.

“Asleep. Normally I am.” Areannia flicked her hand, using a short blast of magic to pull the curtain back, revealing Cathy was curled up underneath a thin blanket.

The half-elf smiled at Areannia. “Got the envelope?”

She slowly reached into her jacket with two fingers and gave it to him.

He pocketed it and gave her another one. “This is for you and Phantom. Tell ‘em their tires are slicks.”

Areannia nodded firmly, pocketing the thick envelope without looking at the contents. “Anything else?”

“Nope! Don't got room for a ferry ride today.”

Behind them, a metallic thunk resonated through the cab as a worker pulled the fifth wheel release. The human climbed onto the catwalk between the trailer and cab to disconnect the lines, shouting, “Godsdamn! Can you turn the truck off?”

The half-elf shook his head. He pulled his cowboy hat low over his eyes and whispered, “Let him be annoyed.” He smiled, leaning back as he added, “We’ll call Phantom tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day!”

The dark half-elf jumped away from the cab, leaving Areannia to sit and wait for the other man to lower the landing gear so she could leave.

*** ***

An unusual humming resonated throughout Stevie’s interior, echoing off the steering wheel and drowning out the sports radio broadcast. Even through the fuel pedal, but only above a certain speed. It wasn’t like that in the morning, or if it was, Areannia didn’t notice. She flew along the highway just above the speed limit, keeping up with cars, single exhaust stack roaring into the afternoon.

Areannia held the side of her aching head, lifting her foot just enough the semi slowed down until the humming stopped. “Cathy!” she called to the changeling in the back. “Something’s weird with the suspension.”

She got no reply.

Cathy would likely be asleep for some time considering she was awake for three whole days. If she awoke now that’d be a miracle. Areannia knew this. She hoped to get some kind of answer from her sister, but didn’t expect one in truth.

Traffic was light on the frosty highway leading away from Portside, yet that didn’t stop police from camping out in the obvious places in preparation for the evening rush hour. Portside and Nalia were but two cities in a greater metropolitan area known as Hades’ Valley. Or as locals called it, the Shimmering Valley. So named for its appearance when viewed from above at night and covered in a layer of snow it looked like a sea of shimmering stars.

A city far older than either of the two inside Stevie’s cab, but not older than Stevie herself. Oh no! Stevie was older than the Tri-Valley. That was for sure, but don’t tell the two sisters that. They’d have a heart attack. Well, one would.

A pretty truck indeed!

Areannia felt each crack in the road without the trailer. Each pothole sent the poor elf lifting off her seat thanks to Stevie’s heavy duty walking beam suspension in the back. One particular crack slammed into the steer tires hard enough that Areannia's ball cap brushed the roof at the same time an ungodly crunch overpowered the wind noise. She didn't have to look in the mirror to see the tandems dancing with the blow, mudflaps threatening to fly off at any moment when they landed on the ground. She felt it through her body when the air ride seat collapsed to the floor, then slowly lifted back up to where she had it.

How has she not replaced the shocks by now?!

Her exit was coming up, so Areannia ran down through the gears. Stevie growled and snarled as the engine brake slowed her down, blinker relay click-clacking loudly within the cab as the elf prepared to exit.

The truck stop held quite a few semis and a decent chunk of parking spots were already taken with only ten spots remaining. Lines of semis waited to get one of two fuels; either diesel from the Dead Shard, or Liquid Crystalized Magic. LCM was lightning magic that someone had the bright idea of adding more and more crystals into a blender until they slurried it into a thin paste.

Most semis, Stevie Included, could run on both, but each engine preferred one or the other. Stevie’s cabin and frame had been built to spec of an ancient and defunct Dead World truck manufacturer with a gnomish-built engine resembling a large V12 hemi created by slapping two separate engines together in the middle, complete with both a supercharger on the intake and twin turbochargers on both sides of the block.

She even had a separate tank with an unknown purpose on the plans, so the gnomes who built the machine decided it was best to add in an emergency fuel reserve.

Powerful, loud, and drank down LCM like it was a dehydrated wanderer who found an oasis. Diesel wasn’t much better. Thus it had two large fuel tanks on each side and one auxiliary tank right behind the cab. All five showed near empty. The reserve made it six.

The truck stop fuel islands were large enough an overheight semi could still get fuel. Pumps on both sides for quick and easy access. Most of the bays were full, except one that Areannia pulled into and set the parking brakes. She hopped down from the cab and made her way around the short truck, popping open each of the fuel tanks. She stuffed a nozzle into each of the forward tanks and made her way over to the card machine. There, she slid Cathy’s points card through the reader, followed by Cathy’s company fuel card.

The machine asked for a truck number. She entered the license plate number.

It asked for mileage. Areannia merely hit one, not knowing if Cathy even bothered to track that information.

The machine, again, asked if she was getting diesel or LCM. She frowned, checked the prices, noting LCM to be far cheaper than diesel and hit that button.

The machine asked whether or not she was getting reefer fuel. She hit no.

It then requested to know if she wanted to buy anything extra inside.

Areannia groaned loudly, balling her fist at the machine. “Just give me the fucking fuel!” She smacked no, practically slamming her finger into the button and shaking the machine.

The machine beeped as it declined the transaction; the printer spitting out a receipt saying insufficient funds. Of course Cathy was broke. Why else would she call Areannia?

Behind Areannia, Stevie rumbled loudly, drawing the attention of another driver while she put Cathy’s credit card away and ran her own. The machine’s cycle started over.

“Oh for fucks sake…” Areannia whispered as she went through the routine again.

The other driver set the long squeegee back in the bucket and peered around the pump, eyes wandering across Stevie’s, quite frankly, ugly exterior. Why did Cathy not give Stevie a bath?! Likely because they were too busy driving the semi day and night and made Stevie do the work of cleaning herself in the rain.

“What engine is that?” the other driver asked, right as Areannia was pressing no reefer fuel. “Sounds mean.”

Areannia’s finger slipped, smacking the yes button and it skipped past to ask her about the extra items. “Gods dammit!” She slammed her fist against the machine, wheeling around and glaring at the man.

The human blinked at her flame filled eyes and shook his head. “You don’t gotta bite my head off, lady,” the driver said and went back to his aerodynamic semi-truck, closing the hood and locking it down.

“Sorry…” She punched the button, hoping her card wouldn’t be declined. Otherwise she’d have to do it a third time. It wasn’t, so she began fueling.

It’ll be a while.

Areannia leaned against the cab, flipping through her phone messages and voicemails.

‘Are you coming home tonight?’ Her husband had texted her earlier in the morning.

Areannia replied simply: ‘I’m not sure. Need to take the truck to Vic’s. I’m sure she wants to see Cathy.’

The reply came almost instantly: ‘Give Vic a hug from me and tell her to avoid strenuous activities, dammit!’

‘I will.’

The flowing LCM gave the area an oddly electrical feeling to it, smelling of blueberries as the glowing liquid slammed into the empty fuel tanks like a waterfall, mixing with the remaining diesel inside. The liters added up. Already at fifty. In all the process would take roughly five minutes to fill all five tanks.

A long hood semi parked right behind Areannia. Its driver pulled the brakes and grabbed their lunchbox from the seat next to them, likely glad that Areannia was actually there fueling the truck and not getting food inside, taking a shower or using the restroom.

While Areannia waited for the fuel tanks to fill, she checked on Cathy to see how the changeling was doing. There was a pulse, which was always a good sign. Beyond that, her ‘usual’ half-elven appearance was there; copper skin, wild and free dark green hair, ears half the length of Areannia’s and a muscular woman’s appearance.

Cathy’s prosthetic leg had worked its way from the shelf next to her all the way to the passenger floor, so Areannia plugged it into a cord coming from the dashboard and set the leg on the seat. An odd device to Areannia, considering both its age and origin. Roughly a hundred years old and still functioning, but it was high elven in design and creation.

Just how her sister came to own the leg during peak conflict between the wood elves and high elves was lost to Areannia. She might’ve heard the story at one time, but over the years many stories were told and forgotten. With great age comes forgetfulness unless you actively work to remember events.

Areannia smiled, patting Cathy on the shoulder.

Cathy groaned and shifted in her sleep in an unusual way, turning this way and that. Her fingers flexing visibly, eyes glowing bright purple under the eyelids as the air around her smelled like rotting meat.

Areannia covered her nose from the stench and backed away.

Cathy’s fingertips glowed a sickly green, faint ethereal flames moving down her hands as if the skin were burning away leaving charred bone-like metal behind, similar to a prosthetic hand. The changeling’s eyebrows furrowed at something as she mumbled, “You shoot, we all die. I drop this, we all die. I’m leaving with the queen, not you. Should you make any attempt to stop me… I drop the grenade.”

Leaving with the queen?

“Cathy,” Areannia whispered, shaking her shoulder again. “You're talking in your–”

Cathy rolled toward her, throwing herself at the elf with ghostly speed as her solid glowing eyes snapped open. Areannia braced herself, but there wasn’t anywhere to go in the small cab. The city horn beeped in response to The elf’s back slamming into the steering wheel.

Cathy’s narrowed eyes and snarl were unlike anything Areannia had ever seen. The glowing gaze burned deep into Areannia’s soul, punching through any semblance of normality. Not only were Cathy's eyes glowing, but flames scorched the skin around the sockets, leaving behind what looked like metal plating, hair seeming more ethereal than actual hair and now that she was so close to Areannia, the unusual magic’s stench was unbearable, causing the elf to cough violently.

“What are… what are you doing?!” Areannia shouted between the coughs.

Cathy’s skeletal hands grabbed Areannia’s jacket and pulled her close, shouting, “You’re going to die!” a strange metallic voice echoed in the cab far louder than the idling Centura engine. “Do you understand!? Your car feels wrong, don’t get in it. If you… if you…” Cathy’s eyes shut and her head slumped against Areannia’s chest. Her chest slowly expanded and contracted as if she were still asleep.

Areannia’s heart galloped in her chest while she processed what just transpired, breathing short and rapid. Cathy appeared to be still asleep, because she wasn’t responding to any nudges. Yet she was just awake and talking. Although the terribly smelling magic had faded, her forearm still glowed bright and began to fade.

What the hell was she on about?

After maneuvering Catherine back to bed, Areannia fired off a message to her husband Rosco: ‘Stay home tonight, please, and don't touch my car! Cathy just told me something is wrong with it.’

*** ***

Catherine rubbed behind her ear, frowning deeply at the mechanics in the large building they were parked near. The heavy growl of an oversized impact gun spinning a lug nut off a trailer inside the shop shattered the silence, echoing inside the building and out across the parking lot.

The human mechanic moved on to the next nut, and so on while loud music drifted out from the shop’s tire filled bay.

Catherine stood next to Stevie’s open door, leaning on the cab while she watched the mechanics work on the truck ahead of them. Too much noise. Why did Nia wake her up for this? She could’ve bought tires while letting Catherine sleep! Then again, the sun was almost behind the horizon and the street lights were on.

The two men working on the other semi both had heavy earmuffs on and shouted at each other to be heard, their echoing voices making it sound like two of them were talking at once.

“What are we getting?” Nia asked loudly, the elf sitting in the driver’s seat and looking down at Catherine.

Catherine frowned up at her. “Tires, brakes, and a pogo stick.”

“Why a pogo stick? The springs are working fine to hold the air lines up.”

“Have you seen ‘em?” Catherine asked, plugging the ear facing the shop with a finger so the noise was lessened. “They're nearly rusted through, eh.”

“How about an oil change? Sticker says your last one was almost twenty thousand kilometers ago.”

Catherine nodded at Nia, waving to her. “Fine, fine. Oil change, tires, brakes, pogo stick. Remember, three-fifteen tires in the front and standard in the back.”

Nia looked out the window at the semi ahead of them before she climbed down and stretched her arms over her head. “I’ll get some Alasse’s.”

“You always pick the low end junk!” Catherine yawned softly and closed her eyes. “I want top tier tires.”

“I could go with the mid-tiers? Makes no difference really.” Nia shrugged. “I run mids on my fleet.”

“Then go with a name brand if it makes no difference. I want the best.”

“When was the last time you had a blowout? I’d rather not see you spend ten thousand dollars right now.”

“It’ll be fine, eh? We got paid fifteen thousand.” Catherine waved dismissively to Nia. “Just as planned.”

“I had to pay for fuel today!” Nia threw her hands to the door. “Two-and-a-half thousand dollars to be exact! When am I getting that back?”

“Take it from my cut.”

Niau folded her arms across her chest and leaned to the side. “And the tires? If you get mid-tiers you’ll save about three thousand dollars.”

Catherine shook her head and blinked a few times, rubbing the crust from her purple eyes. She stepped toward Nia, placing a finger against the other woman’s chest and frowned. “Cheap tires killed me,” Catherine said quietly in a tone that sounded like it came from the depths of the Underworld.

Nia stared into Catherine's purple eyes, but said nothing.

“I lost a steer mid-turn and went straight over the fuckin’ edge of Gentle Gap!” Catherine stepped back and clapped her hands together, making one appear as if it jumped off her palm. “The only thing I could do was watch it roll down the cliff and crash into the bottom.”

Areannia’s eyes widened as she continued to stare at Catherine’s glare. Neither of them blinked for the longest time, allowing the silence to float between them, only broken by the sound of the men shouting in the shop.

“You… died?” Nia asked softly, finally blinking. “How did you come back?!”

Catherine’s glare turned into a smirk as she clapped Nia on the shoulder. “Come on! You don't believe that, eh?! There's no way this truck would be here if it went over the edge!”

“That's not funny.”

“Why are you always so grumpy?!” Catherine turned to give the semi a pat on the floorboard, a tremor in her fingers visible to anyone that had eyes. “Li-Lighten up sometime, eh?”

“Not right now. Tell me the truth!” Nia folded her arms across her chest and frowned.

“I can’t believe you’re that gullible!”

“Your tone said otherwise.”

“I got better, eh?” The changeling’s trembling hand reached inside the semi for her cigarette pen, but it was out of reach. She placed her foot on the step to hop inside.

Nia grabbed Catherine by the shoulder to stop her. Her narrowed eyes drilled into Catherine’s as she said, “the truth, now.”

Catherine gulped at the cold tone coming from her sister and nodded, but then shook her head. “A pix… I can't! I can’t! I can't tell you what happened after!” Her right arm’s tattoo sleeve glowed softly. On her left wrist was a pair of now glowing snowflakes that she pressed against the sleeve until both glows faded. “Just drop it!” the changeling added.

“Fine!” Areannia huffed. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and took a deep breath. “When’s your next job?”

Catherine tapped her chin as she looked at the worn and cupped steer tire. A tire that’d make all kinds of racket going down the highway and likely the noise Areannia heard. “Tomorrow. Hey, I think I found the odd noise you were talking about.”

“Huh?” Nia spun around and looked at the tire. “Oh.”