“Yeah, you’re a lockpicking master,” he half-laughs, half-whispers, and slips past me inside. “Looks like the coast is clear, come on.”
His hand snags mine, and he tugs me a few steps inside. I glance back over my shoulder at the door. There’s a sensation of unshakable dread that creeps up my spine. It shouldn’t have just opened like that.
For a moment, we just stand in the center of the room. Inside, the ooze covers the walls like tumors, becoming like some kind of translucent flesh growing in whatever direction it can.
“Alright, this is your investigation. Lead the way. Tell me what to do,” Ellis whispers.
“Right, right. Um...” I chew my lower lip, looking around. “Any communication or names you can find are top priority. The more we know about who is running this place, the better. If we can figure out what this stuff is the by-product of, that’s good too.”
I take my phone out, and start taking pictures of anything I see, even if it might not be important. I don’t know how much time we have right now to sort through everything for what will be useful.
There’s a few desks lined with computers, but all of them are either off or logged out. I debate internally if I could just unplug one of them and carry it all the way back out of the storm drains, but they’re each roughly the size of a suitcase.
This part at least seems like a breakroom, where a few lockers line one wall. Ellis has started going through them.
“Maybe there’s an employee ID badge just laying around. And a sticky note with all the passwords,” he says, way too optimistically. I snort.
His tail knocks over a mug full of pens on the surface behind him. Without turning around, the end of his tail curls around it and sets it back upright in a practiced motion as precise and purposeful as either one of his hands. And there I go again, wondering a little too much about his tail, getting distracted. Focus, girl.
There’s an old, boxy TV, half-buried under a stack of old paper coffee cups, tuned to the news. I’d glanced past it initially, but when I see Clayton standing on the steps of what looks a lot like city hall in front of a podium and a swarm of microphones, I find myself automatically peering closer to turn the volume up.
“—the dedication ceremony will be here, tomorrow night—”
I feel Ellis’s presence hovering over my shoulder.
“Manhunt for flying mutant declared,” he reads off the scrolling banner along the bottom and blows out a breath. “That’ll be fun.”
I’ve had bigger reactions over broken nails. “You’re taking the news pretty well.”
“What news? That they’re making it official instead of implicit?” Ellis shrugs, wings flexing out of the way as he leans back against the row of lockers. Then his head tips back in a groan and hits the metallic door with a snare. “Fuck, I’m gonna have to start cooking at home more.”
“Oh, condolences, I know that heartbreak.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm. I did a lot of cooking when I dated Clayton. He always says I’d save more money by not ordering out.”
“Pass on taking financial advice from a billionaire.”
“Breaking news, billionaires might just know a thing or two about money.”
“Uh, even more breaking news,” Ellis says in a mock weathercaster voice, pivoting the conversation. “This just in, rumor has it Steel has been sleeping on the couch. Ms. Vigil, care to weigh in on what it takes to kick a billionaire out of bed?”
He pretends to tilt a microphone toward me, wiggling his eyebrows. I blow out a breath.
Fine, I’ll play along. I narrow my eyes at him, putting a hand to my ear as if I had a headset. I don’t need his imaginary microphone.
Volleying back in my street correspondent voice, a little deeper and full of faux seriousness, I say, “Uh, it takes friendship and understanding, Ellis. Some people can still act like adults when they end a relationship. As it’s not yet official, we’re holding off on going public about our breakup. Back to you, bad guy.”
“And how long have you been holding off on telling people? Back to you, Lacey.”
I falter, pausing to count. “Five months.”
“Five months?” Ellis repeats, dropping the voice, looking genuinely astonished.
“Yeah, five,” I echo, uncertainly, a little more hushed. “Is that bad?”
Ellis runs a hand through his hair, glancing away from me. “I mean . . . uh, how long is that till . . . ?”
