“Very professional,” I gulp gruffly. If only she knew how I want to tear that outfit off with my tusks!
But I don’t, of course. Instead, I grab the portal cape from the hook on the wall and lead the way down the corridor and out of the house to where my work jeep is parked out the front. I hold the passenger door open for her.
She hops in, and I get in the driver’s side, start the engine and grind the gears as we head down the tunnel toward the Vault.
“I recognize this place,” Clem says excitedly as we wind our way through the markets. “It’s not as busy as last night.”
“Most folks did their weekly shop last night. Being late trading, there are often bargains to be had.”
We drive on past the stalls and a variety of monster species shopping and chatting in the bright light from the sconces, signifying morning. Most of us also have a body clock that adjusts to the shifts above ground, the sun rising and setting, the cycles of the moon. We sense the four seasons. Even though none of us have ever been above ground, our bodies know the rhythm of the Earth.
Soon we reach a tall building hewn into the rock. The sign above the doorway reads:
THE VAULT: Open to the public Thursday–Sunday.
“Everyone can visit and see this stuff?” Clem turns and looks at me, surprised, as I bring the jeep to a stop.
“We put most of the artefacts on show to the public, yes. We like them to know our history.”
She pulls a face. “It’s the opposite in Sparkle. They tell us we’d be too traumatized if we found out about the past, so it’sbetter that we live in blissful ignorance. Our history is hidden from us.”
“Yeah, Sammy got a surprise too when she first got here. You’re sure you’re up for this?” I ask.
She raises her chin, a little defiant. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It can be hard to find out the truth about our intertwined worlds.”
“I got thrown in the deep end yesterday and so far, I’m doing great. Trust me, I’m fine.” She pins back her shoulders and throws open her door.
“Fair enough,” I mutter, remembering her reaction to the octomopede, which wasn’t exactly fine. The memory of her wet little body plastered to mine sends a ripple of pleasure to my groin.
Down, boy!
When we walk in through the grand wooden doors of the Vault, Brody rises to his feet at reception in his bear form, looking huge and shaggy and remarkably fierce, even though inside he’s nothing but a big-hearted cinnamon roll.
Clem stops short, and lets out a squeak of alarm.
Hmmm, not so tough after all,I think to myself.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CLEM.
I stare up at the huge bear in front of me and my eyes saucer. I think I may even have let out a surprised exclamation.
The bear reaches a furry paw toward me, and I have to stop myself taking a step backward.
Suddenly he shifts into human form and now the paw is a large hand, ready to shake mine. He grins sheepishly. “If I’d known you were coming, ma’am, I’d have shifted before you arrived.”
“It’s okay.” I pin on a smile and register my pulse slowing.
“This is Brody,” Otis growls, “the troublemaker.” But nevertheless, he claps the guy round the shoulders with a grin.
Brody is goofily handsome, looks like he works out a lot, and has a full head of shaggy dark hair. The only thing that remains bear-like are his ears, covered in soft brown fur. They twitch in his wavy hair.
I’m beginning to realize that, like Tippy, some of these monsters retain features of their species even in their human form. Like a proud reminder of their heritage.
Otis holds out the cape to Brody. “Jax brought Clem down here in the portal cape. Guess I can hold you responsible—yet again.”
