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Manhattan is a city built almost entirely on the principle that you can never have too much straight up. This makes the city a free-ru
The thing to remember about free-ru
I dropped like a stone for the first two stories, plummeting almost all the way back to the club before I grabbed hold of a ledge and used the energy from my fall to fling myself, hard, onto the nearby fire escape. From there, I slid down the ladder and dropped to the street below, landing with my weight balanced on my toes. The world seemed to stop for a moment, everything falling into the sweet, familiar pattern of the run. And then I was off, racing for the next building, where the dumpster would lead to the fire escape would lead to the roof would lead to the next step in my journey home . . .
Free-ru
I wouldn’t change it for the world.
Dominic was waiting outside the door to my semilegal sublet apartment when I came trotting up the stairs. He looked calm, cool, and collected, as always. I, on the other hand, was a sweaty mess, although the endorphins generated by my run had me flying high enough that I really didn’t care.
“How is it you can always get in here without me?” I asked, slowing to a walk. “I thought this building was supposed to have security.”
“I have my ways.”
“You stole somebody’s keys, didn’t you?” I used my own key to unlock the door.
Dominic looked affronted. “I did nothing of the sort,” he said. “I bribed the building manager with a tale of woe concerning our lovers’ spat.”
“Uh-huh. Was this before or after we actually hadone?”
“Oh, considerably before.”
“Why am I not in any way surprised? Come on. Time to face the inquisition.” I pocketed my keys as I pushed the door open, took a deep breath, and stepped into the apartment. Dominic followed quickly. He’d been over often enough to know what was coming, and that we needed to have the door closed before it got fully underway.
The latch had barely clicked into place when the mice filling the apartment’s short entrance hall began to cheer wildly, waving their tiny ba
“Yeah, guys,” I said, dropping my bag on the little table that was meant to hold the mail. “I’m home. Dominic’s here, too, so could you maybe chill out for a while?”
“HAIL!” shouted the mice, overcome with ecstasy at the idea of having twohumans they could cheer at. “HAIL THE VISITATION OF THE GOD OF QUESTIONABLE MOTIVATIONS!”
Dominic raised his eyebrows. “Is that my divinity this week?”
“Apparently so.” My family has been living with Aeslin mice for generations. They’re tiny, furry religious fanatics, and they worship us as their gods. No, I’m not quite sure how it started, but it’s pretty standard for the Aeslin; every colony anyone has ever encountered has been deeply, religiously devoted to something . . . and there’s no law requiring that the “something” make any sense whatsoever. We put up with them because they’re cute, and because they’re useful. Aeslin mice turn everything they witness into religious ritual, and their oral history is impeccable.
According to the Aeslin, all the women in my family are priestesses, co
The mice were still cheering, although it was less uniform than it had been when we first arrived. I hunkered down, sca
“An Offering must be Made!” replied the mouse priest, without hesitation. I could actually hear the capital letters in the middle of the sentence.
I thought about what was in the fridge for a moment before saying, “Tomorrow’s grocery day. Will you accept a box of Hostess cupcakes and some sharp cheddar for now?”
This required a quick conference with the mice around him before he looked up and nodded, banging his kitten-bone staff against the floor to signal his acceptance. “It will suffice,” he intoned.
“Great. Dominic, I’ll meet you in the living room.”
“Naturally.” He was only shuddering a little as he turned and beat a hasty retreat away from the colony. That was a big improvement. Dominic might be tolerant of my cryptid-loving lifestyle, but the Aeslin mice still creeped him right the hell out, maybe because they insisted on staring at him constantly, waiting for him to prove his godhood. And this is why neither I nor my siblings ever brought home any dates during high school.
It took me about five minutes to get the mice sufficiently placated, and hence out of our hair for at least the next half hour. They were still doing their rapturous dance in celebration of the Coming of Cheese and Cake when I left the kitchen and walked down the short hall to the living room. Dominic was sitting on the side of the couch that wasn’t completely covered by my dance costumes.
“All done,” I said, moving to lean up against an open patch of wall. “So what did we need all this privacy for?”
“Verity . . .” Dominic hesitated. Then he stood, looking at me solemnly. “I must ask—no, I must beg—that you not become upset until you have heard everything I need to say. It is very important that you understand everything I have come here to tell you, and why this discussion needed to happen both immediately and in secret. May I have your assurance that you will remain calm?”
“Dominic, what’s going on?” I straightened, unconsciously trying to match the seriousness in his stance. “Is everything okay?”
“Please. Your assurance.”
“Yeah, sure. I’m a pretty calm person, you know that.”
It was a sign of how concerned he was that he didn’t even roll his eyes at such a blatant lie. Instead, he continued, “I have become fond of you, frustrating and impossible as you are, and I have learned a great deal about the u