Chapter I

Doctor Montaigne’s office was modest, even by psychiatrist standards. Even so, every stylistic choice was carefully considered: raw brick walls, unadorned by plaster or paint, formed the foundations of a room not too large to feel impersonal but not too small to feel cramped. A single bookshelf adorned the wall opposite the glass entry door and two plush, black leather seats mirrored one another beside a window – currently shuttered – overlooking seventh precinct and, curiously, the District of Bones in the distance.

It was an odd choice to place your office for mental health near a cemetery, thought Morgan. His attention was snatched by the single personal item of decoration in the whole room: a thick, purple-capped mushroom taking the place of honour in a terrarium resting on a low coffee table between the two leather chairs. The room was otherwise pitch black except for the light filtering in through the shutters and the violet glow of the mushroom. Doctor Montaigne was seated in the chair facing the doorway, her eyes closed and her chin resting on a palm.

Morgan was not prepared for the doctor to be anything other than human.

He hesitated inside the doorway, the fluorescent light of the hallway already distant and obtrusive compared to the quiet, alien atmosphere of Montaigne’s office.

‘Come in,’ said the doctor in a hushed, careful voice, as though even she was afraid to break the tranquillity.

Morgan closed the door carefully behind him. It had shuttered blinds on the inside as well, casting the room into a mystified blackness broken only by the mushroom.

‘Take a seat.’ Montaigne gestured to the chair opposite. She had only three fingers on each hand. Belatedly, he wondered if that made writing difficult.

Morgan loosened the tie at his neck, cleared his throat, then carefully eased into the seat. He tried to keep his eyes on the mushroom but could not help straying back to the doctor.

She was not a creature he had ever seen in Joudai before, and that was no small feat. Monsters, beasts, creatures, humans – he had seen hundreds of species pass through the shores of Joudai. It was a port city, a tourist destination home to a high transient population from not just other cities on the continent, but from interstellar and extradimensional space as well. If he had seen the doctor’s race before, he would remember it.

Montaigne’s skin was deathly pale and had a pinkish cast not dissimilar to the stem of the mushroom within her terrarium, but whether that was due to the purple light or her natural hue, Morgan could not be sure. She had a wide, elongated head, a thin line of ribbing starting from her brow bone, cresting the crown of her head, then running along the back of her neck; the effect was not alleviated by ears, either, only two knobbed holes at the sides of her head. High cheekbones sat above a set of long, wandering tentacles at the sides of her jaw, and above those were a set of enormous almond-shaped eyes, their pupils a starry constellation lacking whites. When Montaigne blinked, it was slow and deliberate, the folds coming from the sides of her eyes horizontally rather than vertically, as though she had to carefully consider and go through with the action. The unsettling unfamiliarity of Montaigne’s appearance was set off by a simple pair of slacks and a white blouse.

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‘It’s alright to stare, Lieutenant Takashima, but at a certain point it’s impolite. Wouldn’t you agree?’

Morgan cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the doctor’s roving tentacles. ‘Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.’

She smiled – at least, Morgan interpreted the turning of the corners of the severe gash of her mouth as a smile.

‘No harm done.’ One of her tentacles waved, reminiscent of a nonchalant hand. ‘Do you prefer Lieutenant? Or is Morgan alright?’

‘Whatever you like.’

‘Lieutenant, then.’

She had no notepad, Morgan noticed. They always had a notepad. And were always scrupulously taking down notes to the tiniest detail.

‘In return,’ she continued, ‘would you call me Chatlin?’

Morgan nodded. ‘Not gonna write any of this down?’

Chatlin carefully lay her three-fingered hands in her lap. ‘I find it creates a distraction, both for me and my patients. A barrier, as well.’ She tapped the side of her temple. ‘It’s all in here.’

‘Good memory.’

‘It’s good for this field of work. And for yours, I imagine.’ She indicated the Joudai National Defence Bureau logo on Morgan’s left breast.

He glanced down at the badge, two chains linked together, as though just noticing it for the first time. ‘Investigations would definitely go smoother.’

She smiled again, warmer this time, less clinical and practiced. ‘Would you like me to open the blinds, turn on some lights? Or does this suit you better? I’m fine either way.’

Either Chatlin preferred the dimness and her mushroom to fluorescence and sunlight, or she had dimmed the lights for Morgan’s benefit. Which meant she had read his file and this preamble was a waste of time.

‘It’s not like I’m blind,’ Morgan observed, adjusting his glasses higher on his nose.

Cautiously now, ‘And does that bother you?’

‘…Yes and no.’

‘Please, explain.’

‘I…You’ve obviously read my file, doctor.’

‘I have,’ she said carefully.

‘Then you know why I’m here.’

‘And why are you here, lieutenant?’

‘I’m here because the JNDB ordered I be here.’

She chuckled. ‘Clever answer. But it ultimately won’t help you or make your life better. You do want that, don’t you? Or do you think you’re already in a good place, mentally speaking?’

Morgan ran a sweaty hand through the curls of his hair. ‘…No, I’m definitely not.’

‘Then tell me,’ Chatlin leaned forward, ‘what you want out of our sessions here? Because if you want me to hand a nice, clean report to the JNDB and send you off to active duty, I can do that. I won’t be proud of it, but I get paid. And you do your job as you have been.’

‘And I nearly get someone killed again,’ said Morgan, low in this throat.

Chatlin had the good grace not to be smug. ‘Why don’t you tell me about it?’

Morgan took a long breath and removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘Alright,’ he said.