“It’s not like there’s anything you can do for her, Charlie. She wouldn’t even know you’re there. And besides, from what we’re hearing about the ones who have woken up, it’s like being in a constant state of bliss.”
“Yeah, and now those same people are in a living hell. They can’t function, they’re dying. It’s more than withdrawal.” I stared at the glittering city lights, frustrated that we couldn’t help those people, that answers weren’t coming fast enough.
We rode the remainder of the way in silence, and I let my thoughts and gaze drift to the pulsating city, to the people and beings on the sidewalks and crosswalks, in cars and using the buses, entering and exiting shops and offices.
Atlanta was diverse before the Revelation, but now it was like a living, breathing Jackson Pollock painting; so many shades, so many vibrant colors all jumbled together on an ever-shrinking city canvas. Humans of every kind. Elysians of every race. Charbydons of every ilk. All on display right here beneath the hazy glow of city lights reflected against the night sky. It made me think of a huge cauldron, a witch’s brew where all of us, every ingredient, affected the next. And it boiled and bubbled, always moving, always growing, always needing to be fed and tended.
There was no denying that I thrived here; loved it here. I was meant to traverse this landscape and interact with its occupants. I was like one of those witches; playing her role, tending to the cauldron, to see that it didn’t grow cold or boil over.
And if we didn’t find a way to stop
My stomach growled loudly in the quiet containment of the coupe.
“Let me guess, you didn’t eat dinner again,” Hank said, throwing me a quick parental glance.
A compliant shrug was all I gave for an answer, choosing to return my attention to the view, wondering if retiring to a desk job was really the right thing to do. Hell, the chief would have a fit. Telling him was going to be just as hard as sitting on Doctor Berk’s plush chair. I chewed the inside of my cheek, but none of the scenarios flitting through my mind were going to help me with the chief.
Hank found a parking spot near Underground and soon we made our way to Helios Alley.
Underground at night was a hell of a lot different than during the day. Restaurants and nightclubs opened their doors. People spilled into the streets, barhopping or chatting, or just hanging out on the outdoor seating or around open fires burning in city-approved containment barrels. It had become like Bourbon Street in New Orleans. No cars allowed, just locals, tourists, and drunks everywhere. And music. Nearly every place you passed was different. Techno. Country. R&B. Alt-rock. And nestled in between were tourist traps, restaurants, antique stores, and magic shops.
Hank and I walked side by side, scanning the revelers and avoiding the drunks and irritating people who darted in front of us like they had the right-of-way. I hated being around drunks, unless, of course, I was one of them, which happened rarely in my hectic life.
A dark-haired woman in a bridal veil bumped into my left shoulder, spilling her drink over the rim of a red plastic cup. I stepped out of the way before it drenched me. She didn’t even notice, just continued with her friends to other side of the street and another bar.
“You look nice, by the way,” I told Hank as we moved closer to the sidewalk. “Whoever she is, she’ll like it.”
I wasn’t just being polite. Hank looked like a Calvin Klein ad come to life. His blond hair was swept back, but just enough to look naturally windblown. He wore a soft, white linen shirt with the top two buttons undone and khakis. He appeared as though he’d just stepped off some exclusive beach in Tahiti.
“Tonight’s not exactly singles night.” He increased his stride and slipped by a slow couple walking hand in hand. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed. This is perfect. If she does notice you and you’re forced to ignore her, it’ll just make her want you more.”
He rolled his eyes, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Your logic needs a serious overhaul. You doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. He had such an easy, confident swagger. “Well, seeing as you’ve had the day from hell … You sure you’re up for this? I mean, I don’t want you poofing out on me in the middle of things.”
“It’s pooping.” His eyes went wide. Okay, that didn’t sound right. “The phrase, it’s called pooping out, not—” The corner of his mouth started twitching, and his eyes glistened. I smacked his arm. “Damn it, Hank!” His laugh filled the space around us, rich and warm and slightly contagious. But I refused to even grant him a smile.
“I can’t believe you fell for that one,” he said between bursts of laughter.
“You’re so juvenile.”
“And your point?”
I shook my head. “Exactly.”
He ignored my summation and said in a singsong voice, “I got you to say poo—”
“Hank!” God. What was it with him tonight? “Don’t you have better things to do than to make me say immature words?”
His chin cocked thoughtfully and then, “Not at the moment, no.”
“Well, knock it off. And for the record, I won’t be
The revelers thinned out as we approached an area where there were more stores than bars. Mostly upscale boutiques, hair salons, and spas. A few spas had eateries with outdoor seating and table umbrellas lined with white Christmas lights. There was still activity here, but it was definitely more subdued.
Potted palms framed the tall, recessed double doors of The Bath House. Dark and polished, the wooden doors’ rectangular panels had been carved to depict sea creatures, both mythological and real, some in extremely suggestive positions. Hank pulled his wallet from his back pocket and then slipped a membership card into the slot built in near the door. Once the machine read his card, the door popped open.
I resisted the urge to comment about his membership card. But only for a second. “So, how often exactly do you frequent the House of Bath?”
Following him into the foyer, I linked my hands behind my back and let out a low whistle. The foyer rose two stories and housed tall palm trees and exotic blooming vines. Small parrots and songbirds flitted about in the green canopy above us. The floor was made of thousands of small mosaic tiles, which glittered in the light. Large candelabras burned four to a side.
“I try to make it at least once a week. And don’t give me that look, Charlie. This reminds us of home. It’s part of our culture. We love the baths. And we’re not ashamed of our bodies either.”
I held up my hands. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to,” he grumbled. “If you went to my world, you’d understand.”
“Yeah, but hardly anyone is permitted. Seems grossly unfair, don’t you think?”
This was an old argument between us. And millions of other people. Seemed it was all fine and dandy for the beings of Elysia and Charbydon to make our world home, but when the tables were turned, the Elysian government permitted only a small number of humans to visit their world each year. No permanent citizenship, no work visas. Just visit. They lived in a pristine environment and didn’t want it contaminated with tourists and disease. Total insult if you ask me.
And no one, unless they were seriously screwed in the head, wanted to go to Charbydon. But Earth, America in particular, had once again become the land of opportunity.
“Welcome to The Bath House,” a female nymph said as we approached a white marble countertop. “I see you’ve brought a guest this evening, Mister Williams.” She placed two towels and two white gowns on the counter. “Enjoy your visit.”
Upon becoming a legal citizen, Hank had adopted his first and last name after the country singer. Apparently, he had a serious soft spot for the musician.
I followed his lead, taking the gown and towel. He leaned close to me as we walked past the counter. “You can put the gown on in the locker room.”
“Whoa.” I stopped and waited for him to turn around. “You didn’t say anything about wearing something this
