5: Leaving Portside

“What makes you think we don’t have a permit for this?”

“You keep adjusting your booster axle.”

Stevie shuddered and shook, letting out one last gasp of breath before the area outside the guard shack went as quiet as a cemetery. The fog blocked out any view of the land beyond thirty meters and all Catherine could see was a line of incoming semis in the opposite direction waiting to be checked in. Stevie’s exhaust began to cool right away and it let out a tick. The air dryer hissed as Catherine’s eyes drifted across the dashboard, holding her hand out above the set of runic symbols. Cameras aimed at the front of Stevie and the back of the trailer.

She nodded when she saw the one to keep unwanted onlookers out of the cab was still active. The one to keep the cab quiet was likewise active. She glanced at Nia in the passenger seat. “Did you refresh these earlier?” Catherine asked. "I don't remember doing it."

“Yeah.” Areannia waved to Catherine. “One of the guards was a little nosey again. I think he wants to fuck me with how much he drools.”

“Ah.” Catherine nodded. She looked to her left at a brown haired guard staring at her from inside the booth. His eyes were wide, but also a mixture of confusion. She had never seen the man before even though she had been to the port quite a bit recently. Though she usually came in the afternoon. Thinking of afternoon made her wonder if now was a good time to call Victoria.

Catherine reached for her phone above her, but Nia’s voice drew Catherine’s attention before she could grab it. “That one,” Nia said and pointed to the guard.

“I see him.” Catherine nodded, grabbing her cigarette pen from the cupholder. “I think I can get him off your back if he wants to talk.”

“Don't kill him.”

“I won't,” Catherine said through her smile. She clicked the button to turn the device on and pre-heat it. “Just a nap in the snow.”

“You don't have to be like that. They usually run when I take them home to meet Rosco.”

“Has he run off your other partners yet?”

“No, actually. He has a partner he started seeing last week.”

Catherine looked dumbfounded upon hearing that. “And you called mom to watch your kids…? Why didn’t you call… What's her name?”

“Tiffany.” Nia rubbed her forehead for a moment.

“Why didn’t you call Tiffany?”

“Mom can work from home, the others can’t.” Nia took her hat off to run her hand through her hair for a moment.

“You're going to have a pair of mini liches running around by the time you… He hasn't scanned the load yet?” Catherine’s voice was confused as she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. The guard was motioning to roll down the window, so Catherine obliged him by winding the manual window fully open.

“Hello?” the young guard asked in common from his booth. She noted his grey uniform and brown hair. A very basic looking guard if she ever saw one.

“Hi!” Catherine replied in elvish, switching to common after she realized she was speaking to a human. “How are you?” The changeling took a puff from the pen, letting its strawberry banana flavored smoke tantalize her taste buds before chasing its way into her lungs for a nice relaxing buzz.

“Fine,” the guard shot back as he opened his door and walked out onto a platform next to the truck. “Got your paperwork ready?”

Catherine frowned at him, waited a few moments, and then let out her breath, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. “Paperwork? Well, they didn't give me much, sorry.” She shrugged at the man. “Something about needing it yesterday and they’ll pay more if I can get it there faster? They must think I'm a chronomancer, eh?"

“Mind stepping out of the truck?”

"No need to twist your knickers, I have the paperwork right here," Catherine replied. She looked at Nia, giving her a small shrug and a concerned look.

Areannia popped open the glovebox and sifted through a small stack of papers; five years worth of registrations and insurance papers, the receipt for last week’s repairs, the manual that came with the semi, and finally a freshly crumpled shipping manifest for office supplies with no date on them. Nia filled out the date and gave the paper to Catherine.

The guard looked at the paper and his own notebook for a moment. He then gave her the paper back and motioned for her to step out. "Please? I just need you there to make sure the door is locked."

“Don’t you guys do that on your own?” Catherine tilted her head, gently tapping the fingers on her right hand together at the tips, her mind forming the framework of a spell and words coming to the tip of her tongue. Just in case.

Areannia’s quiet words in their native language broke Catherine’s concentration. “Do what he says; we can’t make too big of a scene in the Matriarch’s territory. You're lucky you haven't been shot yet.”

“Sure.” Catherine's smile faded slowly, letting the spell fade. She gave her sister a look that told the elf act normal, but Nia was already there from what the changeling could see.

Nia looked as composed as she normally did. That is to say, slightly grumpy with an almost permanent frown when it came to Catherine’s antics. Nia reached for Catherine’s hand, but the changeling hopped outside before the elf could stop her.

“You need a jacket!” Nia’s voice called out from the cab while Catherine walked with the guard.

Cold air seeped into Catherine’s copper skin, causing goosebumps to break out as the disguised changeling shivered in the icy air. She quickly rubbed at her shoulders in an effort to keep them warm. They were covered only by an old tank top. The snow covered stone seeping through her socks reminded her that she still hadn’t put any shoes on, and that she would have to change her socks when she got back inside.

The guard walked the long distance to the back of the trailer with his clipboard in hand and looked at Catherine. “I just need to check the lock and numbers if that’s fine with you.”

Catherine nodded. “Of course. Usually that’s done while I sit in the truck, no?” She tried to look at the paperwork he was holding, but the man waved it around, and so she took a long draw from her pen.

“I know,” the guard stated, “but things have been strange around here lately. You can go if everything checks out.”

Catherine eyed the man while she followed. He was checking his notebook about something, flipping back to a name on the paper. She sighed heavily, the smoke trailing behind her like a steam locomotive.

Catherine walked over to the door handles, but kept her distance so she wouldn’t be accused of tampering and pointed at them. “It was sealed when I picked it up. All I did was put the lock on.” She said honestly, nodding as well. Or as honest as she could recall considering Areannia had picked it up.

The guard compared the seal number to his paperwork, pulled an electronic device from his pocket and held it over the numbers. After a few moments of silence, it beeped green to let him know the trailer was cleared to leave. “Huh… Everything seems to be okay here. Alright then.”

“I told you it was there when I picked it up! If it’s not matching then… oh. It’s okay?” Catherine smiled. “Yay!” She clapped her hands together and bowed to the guard.

Her long dark green hair fell in front of her eyes, forcing her to run her hand through it to clear her vision. This exposed her half-elven ears to the icy air, which also made them burn with the fury of someone embarrassed to have ears longer than a human’s and shorter than a full blooded elf’s. Despite the fact that she could simply change them, she had chosen to take on a half-elf persona in a city of humans just to explain why she looked in her mid twenties at almost ninety years old.

The guard smiled, holding his hand out. “I’m Jones. And you are?”

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Eyes fluttering in mild surprise from the name and question, Catherine remembered Nia’s earlier comment. She smirked and quickly grabbed his hand in a grip tight enough a bear would be envious. “Phantom, nice to meet you, I think?" She used her other hand to put the cigarette pen in her mouth and took a deep draw until her lungs were full. One long enough even Chessa would be proud of.

"Phantom?" Jones asked, his face contorting in pain as she squeezed his hand. "Wh-what kind of a name is… that?"

Catherine let the question hang as the heavy smoke floated her lungs and a spell came to mind. A sleep spell disguised in the smoke would be perfect! So she pictured it in her head and felt the familiar tingle of magic flowing through her body.

The hiss of air from a semi coming to a stop drew her attention to a modern brown truck with a pair of crossed swords painted on the top of the aerodynamic sleeper.

She glanced to the side and sighed heavily, letting out a stream of now purple smoke into the frigid morning air until there was none left inside her lungs. Her feet were freezing sure, but it was nothing compared to what she experienced on the high elven sea or stuck atop the highest peak in Halifax.

Catherine returned her attention to the guard and stared directly into his eyes. "Look, I’m on a tight schedule and my feet are freezing. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

Jones' eye twitched as he bit his lower lip. “Oh. Ca-can I get your number so w-we can hang out sometime then?”

“No.” Too many people around for any spells, so she squeezed tighter until she mercifully released it. The guard gasped, clutching his red hand and stared at her. Catherine headed for the front of her truck. “I’m not interested in men,” she said to the guard. “Leave me alone, eh?”

He followed along behind her, holding his clipboard close and glancing at it every so often. “Come on! You’re an elf!”

“So?”

“Do you know how rare it is to see an elf?”

“I see half of one every time I look in the mirror, whatever your name is.” She shook her head, waving her hand dismissively at him.

“Jones,” he corrected her. “I just wanna talk to you! I’m curious about what the elves are up to. They’re so reclusive now!”

“I’m not an elf,” she added and shot him a deep glare that nearly pierced Jones’s soul. She was trying to keep her composure and her head. Cameras and other people were on her now.

“You look like one.” Jones placed his hands together in a praying motion and bowed in the best reconstruction of the bow she had given him. “You have to at least let me ask a couple questions?”

“All three of the empires exiled me. You're better off reading a book or joining one of the mega corporations run by them.” Catherine frowned deeply and shook her head. Her hand gripped tight to the grab handle until she felt her remaining knuckles wanting to give out. She wanted to punch the man through the wall, to laugh at him, but at the same time she wanted the man to just leave her alone.

“Please?” The man broke her thoughts with a simple request. One so simple it made her giggle quietly.

“Oh, well I certainly can’t argue with please, now can I?” she replied and climbed inside. Catherine slammed the door shut, leaned out the window and frowned at the human. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone? Probably because he was curious, but that was more than she wanted. She didn’t want his questions. She didn’t need them either.

He grinned up at her with a clear expectation of her giving him a phone number. “Really?” he asked

“No!" Catherine growled. “Even if I liked sex, I’m married to a dangerously beautiful woman, so why ruin it?” The changeling held a single middle finger out, adding, “Now take off, ya hoser.” She turned the key and waited for the buzzer to finish.

The guard’s smile instantly faded at her words. He stepped back as the Stephenson S100 let out the shrill squeal of its air starter turning the engine over. It roared to life with the deep throaty growl of an angry beast. He tried to say something but the unmuffled Centura engine drowned out his voice. He attempted to get the half-elf to wait, waving at her and shouted as loud as he could, but the engine became even louder to the point it sounded like an animal growling at the man.

Catherine felt the rising urge to throw a blast of unbridled force energy directly into his face, but instead of having to deal with the city cops, she released the clutch to get her truck rolling.

The green cabover tilted sideways when it lurched forward, practically lifting one front wheel off the ground. Catherine quickly shifted it into the next gear and then the next until the vehicle was moving at a decent pace where she could grumble to herself without a distraction. Or, as close to distraction free as she could get considering Areannia was also in the truck.

“What an asshole,” the changeling grumbled in elvish to Areannia, using her left hand to roll up the window while shifting into the next gear at the same time. The instant the window was up a rune inscribed on the dashboard glowed softly and the exhaust note was reduced to faint background noise.

"I warned you,” Areannia said quietly. She looked over from the passenger seat and waved ahead of them. “I gather we're the first elves he’s ever seen.’

“Fuckin’ hoser,” Catherine grumbled under her breath as the blur spell over the windshield faded.

"Hey." Areannia gently tapped Catherine's arm as the changeling shifted into the next gear. Catherine glanced at her, so Areannia nodded and held the pink cell phone up. “The broker says don’t stop until after Prism.”

“Fine.”

*** ***

All the way in the old city of Petersburg, Victoria hummed happily to herself as she sat at her dining room table. The dining room was attached to a rarely used kitchen stuffed to the brim with modern appliances, including a separate freezer for all the ice cream Victoria could ask for. The table was large enough for four people, but rarely used for actually eating from. The ancient table lay covered in a heavy cloth to protect the wood from oils while the pale brunette worked on her firearms.

One leg thrown over the other, Victoria’s puffy nightgown took up most of the space between her and the table. She tilted her head from one side to the other as she held a revolver’s cylinder in one hand and a barrel brush in the other. Her head was shifted just enough the overhead light’s glare in her glasses didn't blind her from her work.

The pale woman scrubbed one hole fairly quickly, and then blew the black powder dust out. The ancient single-action top break revolver lay in pieces before Victoria. She moved on to the next hole, and the next until she had the cylinder cleaned inside and out before she applied a light coating of gun oil to it.

Through Victoria’s phone propped up next to her, the Dragon News Network played its complaints about rush hour ground traffic in all the usual spots and predicted more snow for the coming holiday week. Victoria was prepared for it as always. She and Chessa adored the winter time, for the land became as frozen as their soul. The air became crisp like the inside of her house and everything fell silent. Even had the pine tree erected in the living room like humans did for Christmas.

Something gnawed at Victoria’s mind, telling her that her house had a stranger in it. She ignored it as she whispered to herself, “It’s just Melissa.”

“I know, but she seems upset,” Chesathas replied to Victoria as a pressure in their forehead grew for a moment. “Let's ask. Maybe we can cheer her up.”

The pressure ceased, causing Victoria to rub her forehead for a moment. Her fingers traced her hairline, tugged gently on a few strands of her hair and then she felt her cheek. “We can't just go over there and ask her,” she whispered. “You didn't see how she acted last night at the pub.”

“How did she act?”

“Like someone slipped something in her drink after the race. Let her sleep.”

Victoria picked the revolver’s frame up and peered through the gritty, grimy, barrel that looked as though it came from a river, but it was just one and a half boxes of black powder ammo. As the pale woman grabbed a spray bottle to loosen the powder, she listened to the news through a pair of earbuds.

The newscaster spoke firmly, “In other news. Bill F1T otherwise known as the ‘Fit Bill’ has passed.”

Victoria froze, ears tuned to one noise and one noise alone, her mind empty of all thoughts. Even Chesathas was quiet.

“As of January first of next year, all dragons with flying licenses are to undertake a health exam every ten years. Down from every hundred.”

“What?!” Victoria’s voice echoed throughout the house like a gunshot. “That's bullshit! Those fuckin’ gnomes are crybabies!”

The news channel switched over to a human interviewing a human airplane pilot. The pilot nodded as they spoke, “Well, I think it'll make our skies safer for everyone. Just because they naturally have wings and can fly doesn't make them better fliers.”

“You Deathdamned hayburner!” Victoria grabbed the phone, silver eyes narrowed in a cold fury that raged from the deepest arctic depths uncharted by humans. All notion of cleaning her pistol was lost as she focused on the interview.

“You think so?” the reporter asked.

“Oh yeah! I can't tell you how many times I've been cut off by a dragon who shouldn't be flying. Hopefully, they'll understand humans and elves already need to go through the same thing.”

“Vic?” Melissa called out from the living room, right before Victoria did something stupid like throw her phone or freeze it. “Everything alright?” the raven-haired human added.

Victoria closed the news app, tugged an ear bud from her ear so she could hear better and smiled, all anger forgotten. Or at least hidden. “We heard some distressing news is all.”

Melissa had stood up and was stretching her arms over her head. “What time is it?” She wore a long dark t-shirt and that was about it. Her long hair had gone everywhere and the tanned woman looked ready for even more sleep.

“Almost six in the morn.” Victoria set the phone face down. “Are we taking you to work today?”

“Work? Oh fuck…” Melissa rubbed her forehead for a moment before clearing the sleep from her vertically slit neon green eyes. “We’re in Petersburg, right?”

Victoria nodded firmly. “Yeah.” She flashed Melissa a warm smile as she pulled her glasses to the end of her nose, cocking her head so she could stare over the top of the lenses. “We can take you to Richmond if you need us to. Or you can stay here tonight.”

“Ooohh, shit. I need to call me boss,” the raven-haired woman whispered as she rubbed her head a few more times, blinking. Her neon eyes wandered the room for a moment. “We raced, with the others, right?”

“Yes.”

“Through the canyon?”

“Correct.”

“Who won?”

“Ventrosa.”

“Damn!” Melissa snapped her fingers, stomping a foot in the ground. She glared at the air for a moment before pouting. “And here I thought I shoved that treasure bag into the river.”

“We watched her teleport before she hit. I’m sorry, hun, but we just couldn’t keep up with y’all. Our lungs ain’t what they used to be.”

Melissa grumbled as she rubbed her shoulders. “She always wins! How fair is that?”

“Well, you can't beat the Matriarch in an aerial race, can you?”

Melissa nodded a few times, half-turning toward the main hallway and pointed that way where pictures hung on the walls.. “Alright, so who’s the other woman in the photos and where is she? I must simply meet her.”

“Our ex-wife of fifty years. She disappeared some years back and we’re kinda waitin’ to see if she resurfaces or not. Figure we’ll give her a decade.”

Melisa cocked an eyebrow. “Did she die?”

Victoria’s eyes went down to the old revolver on her dining table, a small frown on her face. “You’d think so considering she’s a changelin’ and almost ninety. I asked the Dark Lady, but she said no.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Go find her!” Melissa threw a hand toward the door. “Don't let me stop you, girl. Go!”

The pale brunette frowned deeply at the table. “I dunno where to look.”

Melissa harrumphed as she tossed her head back and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, if I were you I’d start with a search of her old haunts. What’s she like to do?”

“Drive.” Victoria shrugged visibly and leaned back in her chair.

“Anything else?” Melissa cocked an eyebrow.

“No. Wait, yeah. No, not really.” Victoria couldn’t really remember Cathy doing much beyond the driving and building ship models that the woman still kept around the house. They were nice reminders and displays to have when people came over, but one on her coffee table had sat languishing for years in an incomplete state. It was of a tramp freighter built long, long ago, but one both Victoria and Cathy worked on for a time.

She felt a tickle in her throat building up. One she couldn’t hold back. She covered her mouth with a handkerchief. The pale woman’s body shook with each violent cough of bloody ash, barely audible through the cloth. Only when she finished did either of them react. Victoria set the now soiled rag aside and frowned deeply. As did Melissa, but for an entirely different reason.

“You’re not even a half-millennia old,” Melissa said, adding, “Don’t die just yet.”

Victoria sneered at the other woman, cocking her head a bit for a moment. Then sighed heavily and shook her head, closing her eyes. “Lasted longer than we should’ve to be honest. Once we’re gone…” her voice trailed off as she looked over at the half-completed ship model. “There’ll just be the Captain left from the caravan.”

“Can’t you just ask Death to spare you?”

“No. She’s already annoyed with us for extendin’ our life with magic. With Cathy gone… there ain’t nothin’ keepin’ us here and no more magic to keep goin’ with.”