Fletcher sighed as the apartment door opened and his father walked, marking the end of his alone time. He closed his book and set it on the coffee table.

  “Hey, Dad. How was work?” He tried to sound more enthused than he felt. As nice as it had been to see his dad, living with his father again proved rather difficult now that he was nearly twenty-six and very much an independent adult.

  It was December 27th, and he was due back in Bren’it’p in another week. With his departure date coming up, Sebastian had taken to rehashing the same old worries about Fletcher having gone to the Unhuman city in the first place, coming up with every reason under the sun to convince Fletcher to quit and stay in Alcett.

  “Fine. Did you really sit around reading all day?” his dad replied as he set his backpack against the wall.

  “I worked out and did some chores,” Fletcher answered.

  “That’s it?”

  “This is my vacation,” he defended himself. “What do you want for dinner? I can make it.”

  “Let’s just order something.” His father dropped to the couch.

  “Something wrong with my cooking?”

  “I just feel like getting something from a restaurant, okay?”

  “Fine,” Fletcher said. Now would have been a good moment to inform his father that he actually did go out that day, but he knew that his dad would freak out when he found out why, and he didn’t have the mental fortitude for that argument right now.

  Being in Alcett had been nice in some ways, but in a lot of ways, Fletcher felt more like an outsider here than he had in Bren’it’p. Or maybe it was just that he expected to feel like an outsider in Bren’it’p.

  It was a strange feeling here with the way his own people stared after him or whispered when he walked down the street. Somehow word had gotten out about Fletcher Anders, the Unhuman citizen, being back in town, and it was driving him crazy to deal with it all on top of his father and his incessant worries and the knowledge that the government was watching his every move.

  In light of that, Fletcher had made the bold decision to return to Bren’it’p early. That morning he’d gone out to the wall to trade his train ticket to be for the next day and get cleared by the Human officials of the colony for an earlier departure. Everything was set for his leaving, except telling his father and his friends. All of those were conversations he dreaded having.

  His dad hung up his phone, having gone ahead on ordering something. “Food will be here in thirty minutes. I got you your usual cheeseburger.”

  “Thanks,” Fletcher said. “How about I pay this time? To help make up for crashing here.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Sebastian waved his hand. He sat up a little and looked at Fletcher. “You don’t have any plans tomorrow, right?”

  “No,” Fletcher lied in a moment of panic. “Why? What’s up?”

  “I’m going to meet with a merchant tomorrow afternoon. He’s from Bren’it’p and wanted to meet you. I already got it cleared for you to join me in leaving the walls. It’ll be one last outing with the two of us before you head back.” His dad smiled, and for the first time since Christmas, it felt genuine. “I know it might not be as exciting as reading, but I did want to try to spend a little more time with you before I have to say goodbye for a whole year.”

  “That sounds great, Dad,” he said around the lump in his throat. He needed to confess about trading his ticket, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it right then and crush the first signs of his father forgiving him.

  Fletcher then asked more questions about his father’s day and his work, desperate for anything to keep himself from thinking about the inevitable betrayal he was going to have to commit.

  Part of him considered telling his father what he’d done while another part wanted to just find a way to sneak out tomorrow to change his ticket back, but the majority of him was thinking about the letter he’d received from Beam and how much he missed her—not that he’d braved telling anyone he was dating an Unhuman yet.

  Besides, saving that extra week of vacation meant he would be able to come back to Alcett before next Christmas. Surely his father would enjoy that more than having him around for another few days with tensions so high.

  The food arrived, and he convinced his father to use some of their spare electricity to watch a movie while they ate. His dad had saved up his power allowance for months so he could spoil Fletcher with movies and shows while he was back, but given Fletcher’s extra vacation time, they still ended up having to ration it.

  They went with an old one, one of Fletcher's grandfather’s favorite movies: Jurassic Park. Fletcher enjoyed it as much as any other classic late 1900’s film. They ended up watching the entirety of the movie, and as the credits were rolling, Fletcher suggested they play a board game, suddenly very concerned with how little quality time he’d spent with his father while home.

  “I’m too tired for anything like that,” his dad said. “We can play tomorrow night or maybe have the Ortegas over for something this weekend before you go back to Bren’it’p.”

  “Alright, old man. Whatever you say.” Fletcher forced another smile. Yet again he thought about telling his father about the early departure, but he knew that it would only cause another argument, and he really didn’t want this trip to end on such a bitter note. It would be easier to tell him in the morning, right before he left.

  They spent the last of the night doing their own thing before heading to bed. Guilt racked Fletcher as he prepared for sleep, and he tried to convince himself that somehow it would be easier to explain things the next day.

  Fletcher slept poorly that night, plagued with nightmares replaying the assassination attempt, only instead of Knarf being shot, it was his father. It was a relief when his alarm went off and he woke from the horrific dreams.

  He glanced at his mostly packed bag, four different novels than the ones he brought home were stuffed in there alongside his clothes. There was no getting around it now. Fletcher had to tell his father that he was leaving today.

  Stepping out of his bedroom, he discovered the apartment empty, with a few dirty dishes already in the sink. As he walked to the counter, he sighed as he found a note from his father.

  I’ve gone to work early to finish some business before our trip today. Meet me at the warehouse at 11 am.

  - Dad

  “That’s not good,” he mumbled to himself. What was he supposed to do now? He could try to trade his ticket again, but it’d been difficult enough doing it the first time, and he had his doubts about pulling the feat off again. Besides, he didn’t really want to stay longer. As nice as last night had been, he knew better than to believe the peace between him and his dad was going to hold for another week, and he was not about to subject himself to endless arguments about a situation he couldn’t change.

  Fletcher glanced at the piece of paper before him. It appeared his only option was to follow suit. Grabbing a pen, he flipped the note over and scribbled his own message down.

  I planned to tell you this morning, but you were already gone. I bumped my departure date up so I could save some time off to come home during the summer. Sorry for the change in plans, but I’ll see you in a few months.

  - Fletcher

  His stomach curdled as he set his writing utensil aside, thinking of how much this would hurt his father. The only good news was that Fletcher would be long gone by the time Sebastian came home and saw it, and hopefully he’d be over his hurt when Fletcher came to the colony next, whether that be over the summer or all the way to next Christmas.

  Leaving the note behind, he went to his room and finished packing, ensuring he had his new ticket, his wallet, and his passport before exiting the apartment and locking the door behind him. Whatever problems he had with his father would have to either solve themselves over the next few months or be solved through letters, but Fletcher remained sure of his decision as he went to catch a bus to the wall and get on his train home, his real home now.

  ***

  Twenty-nine hours later, Fletcher was leaning against the window, watching the train slow to stop as it arrived in Bren’it’p. It’d been a long day and a half of travel, but he was happy to be back. Before he left Alcett, he’d gone through the usual security screening, and he’d even gotten another message from General Taki in his bag. He thought of the new picture waiting inside the cover of one of his books, one of his father at work with a simple sentence scrawled on the back.

  I hope your father is able to avoid future accidents.

  -GT

  Thinking of it made Fletcher’s blood boil, confirming that it’d been the Human government who attempted to kill his father when he first arrived back in the colony. He disliked being threatened, and he hated that they dared to drag his father into this mess when he had nothing to do with it. Sebastian Anders was a simple man who had no part in political schemes and secret wars.

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  The worst part was that it might actually work. Fletcher didn’t know what he could do to protect his father except fill out the journal like they wanted him to.

  Taking a breath to calm himself, Fletcher pulled his backpack from under his seat and swung it onto his back. He exited the train onto the busy platform and glanced around, not quite sure what to do.

  Last time Sunlight had met him at the station, and Beam would have been here if she knew he was coming into town, but as it was, Fletcher was on his own for figuring out a way back to town.

  People stared at him as he went, but he was used to such treatment after months in Bren’it’p and then the strange attitude of people back in the colony. At least it felt normal here since he was a Human among Unhumans. In Alcett, it’d made him feel like a true outsider.

  Fletcher started towards the information desk, accepting the fact that he was going to have to ask for help to get into the city, but a tall [Ogre] stepped in his path.

  “Mr. Anders. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Knarf said in his gravelly tone. He looked completely fine, even after being shot and tossed off a building less than a month ago.

  “Good to see you too, Knarf. How did you know I’d be here? I thought I was surprising everyone,” Fletcher confessed.

  “Minister Vi’le was alerted to your early return and wishes to see you,” his bodyguard said. “If you’ll come with me, our transportation is waiting.”

  Fletcher followed Knarf out of the station and to where a fancy carriage waited, just like the last time he came to the city, only this time a [Nix] drove it, his skin an ever changing blend of colors.

  The [Ogre] sat on the back while Fletcher got the entire interior to himself. It was a quick ride into the city—especially compared to his recent journey—and within half an hour he and Knarf stood outside the government building which housed Prime Minister Vi’le’s office.

  The [Ogre] took Fletcher’s bag and motioned for him to go first, remaining only a few steps behind. When Fletcher arrived on the upper floor where the office and waiting area were, Vi’le’s secretary greeted him.

  “Mr. Anders. Welcome back. The Prime Minister will be with you shortly if you want to have a seat,” the [Insectoid] said, her pincer mouth clicking in between words. Her head was oblong with a multitude of red eyes along the top and a pincer mouth at the soft point. Below that, she had a thorax which connected her spindly arms and legs to her body, and then an abdomen which hung below that, the stinger sunken in. Her flesh was black and hard, just like the shell of an insect.

  “Thanks.” Fletcher settled into one of the plush chairs. His office didn’t have anywhere near as nice furniture, and Beam often reminded him just how uncomfortable she found all the chairs in the building.

  He smiled in anticipation at the thought of getting to see her. The whole “surprise” thing had been something of an epic fail when he got to Alcett due to his father’s injury, but he was sure it would be better with Beam, if only because there was no one threatening to kill her.

  A few minutes later, the office door opened, and Minister Vi’le walked out. Fletcher was about to stand before he noticed someone else coming out of the office as well, another Unhuman.

  But not just any Unhuman…

  A [Demanlic].

  Like the majority of the planet, Fletcher had never seen one in person, and his breath was caught in his throat. There was a certain presence about her that commanded both his attention and his respect.

  She was tall, but not as much as an [Ogre] or [Golem]. Maybe six and half feet tall if he had to guess. Her skin was a typical tan of a Human, but there was a certain glow about it, as though it was producing its own faint light. Two, black, spiral horns protruded from her brown hair, adding another seven inches to her height. On her back was a set of large, white, fluffy wings akin to what Humans used to picture on angels. Her gaze swept over the room, and a chill went through Fletcher as he locked eyes with her maroon irises, a sight all too familiar to him.

  She wouldn’t know what he was just by looking, right? It wasn’t like other species knew each other in some magical sense… as far as he knew. If there was some secret [Skill] involved with noticing others of the same species, Fletcher’s greatest secret might be about to be exposed.

  The [Demanlic] continued to stare at him, and he broke eye contact long enough to see that everyone else in the room was bowing, including Knarf.

  Slowly, Fletcher bent down to one knee and ducked his head, praying he hadn’t committed some unforgivable sin. His eyes darted up again to see that she’d looked away from him and was addressing Minister Vi’le in a quiet voice.

  An air of anticipation hung in the room until the [Demanlic] and Prime Minister finished the last of their conversation and she left down the stairs. Without her presence, it was like a weight was lifted off Fletcher’s chest, and he found his lungs capable of inhaling far more air than he remembered.

  She hadn’t picked him out. His secret was safe still, but that had been too close for comfort. To think that there was some twisted future out there where he could end up as one of those… that was an unhappy thought he didn’t want to ever think of again.

  “Mr. Anders, my apologies for the delay. If you want to step into my office,” Minister Vi’le’s voice rang through the room.

  Fletcher noticed with great embarrassment that he was the only one still bowing, but he quickly stood up. “Of course. It’s no problem, Prime Minister.” As he walked to the office, he noticed several of the staff members locked in whispers, their eyes lingering on the stairwell where the [Demanlic] had just gone.

  Clearing his throat, Fletcher tried to regain his composure as he entered the office and sat opposite of the [Goblin] leader. Knarf did not join them.

  “Mr. Anders, I am happy to see you have returned, though may I ask what caused the early return? I hope there was no trouble back in Alcett for you,” Vi’le began.

  “Huh? No. No trouble,” Fletcher lied. Confessing about Taki and Monroe would only inflame the growing tensions, and he wanted no part in their political schemes. “I found myself missing Bren’it’p, and I thought it might be nice to save a few days off to make a second trip home during the upcoming year, you know, for my dad’s sake.”

  The [Goblin] nodded, many of his earrings jangling with the motion. Almost every part of his gray lobes had something pinned through them.

  “I am pleased that you wanted to return. It is good news that you feel so at home in Bren’it’p. You have been missed at the education department, and I’m sure you’re eager to return to work.”

  “Yes. Definitely,” he said. “I’ll be ready to start tomorrow.”

  “Good. I’ll have one of my assistants send a message to them so they know to expect you,” Vi’le said.

  “Great. I appreciate your help in everything.” Fletcher stood up.

  “Of course. I hope your time in Bren’it’p proves less eventful going forward.” Vi’le smiled and shook his hand. “Good day, Mr. Anders.”

  Back out in the waiting area, Knarf met him with his backpack in hand.

  “To your apartment then, Mr. Anders?” the [Orge] asked.

  “Actually, I was hoping to stop by and see Beam first if that’s okay,” Fletcher said.

  “Of course.” Knarf hesitated for a moment as they started down the stairs. “Was that your first time seeing a [Demanlic]?”

  “Yeah. That obvious?”

  “I assumed Humans would have been taught proper customs for such things,” Knarf admitted.

  “We don’t do a lot of bowing in general,” Fletcher pointed out. “Hopefully she wasn’t offended. She must have a pretty important job. Even Minister Vi’le bowed to her.”

  “You… don’t know?” Knarf’s voice was surprised, shocked even.

  “Uh. I guess not,” he said slowly. “Know what?”

  The [Ogre] grabbed Fletcher’s shoulder, pulling him to a stop, and bent down to speak in his ear with a soft, reverent voice.

  “[Demanlics] are holy beings, Mr. Anders, sent directly from the gods, gods themselves even some might say. They live forever as guardians as Mythia. To even be in the presence of an Almighty is considered a blessing from on high. They don’t engage in anything as petty as ‘jobs.’ They are above such things.”

  “I see. I’m sorry I didn’t know.” He once again remembered those crimson eyes, a shared trait he would do anything to be rid of.

  They began walking again, but the [Ogre’s] steps were lighter than usual, as though he were intentionally treading carefully out of respect for the being who had walked them just before.

  “Knarf…” Fletcher decided to ask a question he’d wondered since he was a child. “You know how Humans can become Hexed, and become part Unhuman?”

  “Of course.”

  “Has there ever been a Human who became [Demanlic] through that?”

  The [Ogre] laughed. “[Demanlics] are not like the rest of us. As I said, they are holy beings. They can’t be formed from such crude methods. No, Mr. Anders. There are no Hexed Humans on the path to become [Demanlics], and to suggest such things would be blasphemy.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect,” Fletcher said hastily.

  They were outside the building, and to his surprise, Knarf joined him inside the carriage, the [Ogre] more chatty than Fletcher had ever seen him.

  “Tell me, Mr. Anders. Do you ever wish you were an Unhuman?”

  Fletcher chuckled in what he hoped sounded surprised instead of nervous. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought about it. Being Human has always been enough for me.”

  “But if you could switch, become like us, and have [Skills] and such things, would you?”

  This was not a conversation Fletcher wanted to have, especially after seeing the [Demanlic].

  “No, Knarf. I wouldn’t stop being Human, not even for [Skills], as handy as they are. I’m happy the way I am.” He hoped that would placate the [Orge] and end this awkward line of questioning. To his relief, it did, and Knarf moved on to asking about his trip home instead.

  Soon the carriage dropped them off at the intersection nearest to Beam’s work, and they made their way through the late morning pedestrians to the building across the street from the Education Department.

  Fletcher hadn’t been in the Steno Investment Office often since Beam normally came to him, but he’d gone enough to know his way to her private office.

  “If you want to wait out here, I’d like a little privacy,” he told Knarf when he arrived at the door. Most of the other workers watched him with amused eyes. He was pleasantly surprised with how well Beam’s coworkers took to the fact that she was dating a Human in Human style even.

  He ran a hand through his hair and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” a familiar voice said, clearly distracted.

  Fletcher opened the door and entered the small space, finding Beam in her perfect beauty, hunched over her desk.

  “Whatever it is just leave it on the shelf. I’m busy,” she muttered.

  “Too busy for an early lunch?” Fletcher asked, crossing his arms.

  She shot up out of her seat, her face smiling broader than he’d ever seen.

  “Fletching! What are you doing here?” She launched across the desk to grab him in a hug.

  “Surprise, I came home early.” He kissed her, embracing all of her soft figure.

  She pulled away after a few moments. “Home?” Beam smiled again. “I like that. I like that a lot.” She kissed him once more. “But, no. Not too busy for lunch. In fact, I think I’m free all day.”

  He laughed and held her closer. This was exactly the kind of surprise he had in mind, and having her warm, golden body between his arms chased away all the worries and concerns of the past few weeks, allowing him to relax for the first time in over a month.

  It was good to be home.

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