Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Zana

Obsidian City is just a little skip of an airplane ride from home, but it might as well be another world. It grew out of the ashes of Chicago after the Rift Wars, transforming from a bustling metropolis into a freeholding city of Otherkin. Now it's part of a network of monster-controlled cities that keep our little sliver of space-time whole and non-alien-invasion-y. You're welcome, humanity.

As I navigate through the airport, dodging a harried-looking werewolf juggling too many suitcases, I can't help but think about my grandparents. They still remember what it was like not being able to trust anyone from the other side of the rift. The stories they told me as a kid... Let's just say they make today's airport security look like a cakewalk.

"Excuse me," a voice rumbles behind me. I turn to see a towering minotaur in a crisp business suit. "You dropped this."

He hands me my phone, which I hadn't even realized I'd fumbled in my daze. "Oh, thanks," I manage, trying not to stare at his impressive horns. "Nice, uh, suit."

He nods politely and lumbers away, leaving me to ponder the surreal normalcy of it all. Thankfully, this new generation knows a little better now. Without our Otherkin alliances, we wouldn't have our semblance of normal. And let's face it, "normal" is a pretty stretchy concept these days.

I make my way to the baggage claim, my mind drifting to the upcoming company event. As someone who's more comfortable with numbers than people, the thought of small talk makes me want to crawl into my suitcase and ship myself back home. But that's not what bugs me about coming on-site. The problem is, what's going to stop them from requiring more meet and greets in the future?

One moment, it's a once a year thing like this national sales meeting. But then, it's a special project or another all-hands meeting.

Soon, it will "make the most sense" for all of us to just get back into the office.

Ugh. I did not become a social pariah taking college level classes in high school, and testing out of nearly all of my gen-eds in university, choosing to take summer classes all so I can graduate early with a double degree only to be forced to be a team player now.

I've earned the right to enjoy my soft and cozy, comfy girl era. Self-care era. One where productivity isn't tied to my feelings of self-worth.

I've earned the right to work in my pajamas and have deep conversations with my houseplants.

As I wait for my suitcase, I can't help but marvel at the diversity around me. Faeries flitting about, trolls lumbering by, and is that a dragon in a Hawaiian shirt? It's like Comic-Con met a supernatural zoo and decided to have a party in an airport.

A few minutes later, another anxious knot relaxes when I see my bag. I pull it off the conveyor belt and check my phone next. Thankfully, our company phones are already equipped with the technology needed to work within the Obsidian Rift network of cities.

Just as I'm about to send a text to my manager, I hear a familiar when I hear a squeal. I turn to see my manager, Caro, stride over to me. She's wearing the harried millennial mom outfit—long cardigan, high waisted jeans, no show socks, low top sneakers. Her fluffy hair somewhat tamed into low ponytails hidden by a ball cap. Her backpack is hoisted over one shoulder, a wilting go-cup of coffee in her opposite hand.

She gives me a quick squeeze. "Lord, I forget how tall you are! In video calls, I imagine you're like a tiny little peanut."

"Tiny" and "peanut" are not the words to describe me. Even though I'm Filipina, I tower over others in my community at five-nine. With my platform sneakers, I'm easily pushing six feet. Couple that with my thicker hips and thighs and top heavy bosom, I'm definitely a genetic anomaly. All of which I hide under XXL sweaters and wide legged pants.

Caro clocks my all-black outfit, giving a slight nod of approval. Then her gaze lands on my suitcase. "Don't tell me you packed a checked suitcase."

"Of course I did. If I'm supposed to dress up, I need to make sure I have all my options. Besides, I want the option to stay longer if possible."

"Stay longer?"

"Don't be like that. I'm not a hermit or anything. I'm just really particular about my work days."

"You can say that again," she says, taking a last swing of coffee before tossing it to the trash. "Is that all you have, then?"

"Yup."

"We're supposed to meet our driver in the pick up area--and I think he found us."

I follow her gaze toward a wall, upon which is a sign no bigger than a place mat with our names on it. Just beneath our names is our company's name: Vormugh Enterprises.

It took a moment to realize that the wall is coming toward us. I look up and keep looking up to see a figure of a man with the face of a blackened skull. By man, I mean it in the loosest definition in that he stands on two legs and has two arms.

But whatever he is, he is not human.

His face is adorned with intricate tattoos that accentuate his features to resemble a skull. It's both terrifying and oddly beautiful. "Ladie,." he rumbles, his voice like gravel in a blender. "I am Skull."

I take in his impressive face tattoo. "Of course you are," I answer without thinking.

The rictus grin that stretches across his face makes my heart rattle in my chest. I shouldn't find something as scary as Skull attractive, but I'm not going to lie. I'm sort of a size queen. I love big boys, and Skull is the biggest boy I've seen...ever.

Maybe I ought to re-think the idea of working on site, if everyone in Obsidian City looked like him.

"Is that all your belongings?"

Caro's jaw is still slack and malfunctioning, so I answer for her once more. "Yes."

He simply grunts in response, effortlessly lifting our bags as if they weigh nothing, and leads us out of the airport exit. Two other men materialize on either side of us as we walk. They, too, were brawny.

Out of the corner of my eye, one is an orc, while the other looks to be a shifter. Though he looks like an ordinary man, no man walks like that. Like a predator on the hunt.

Skull leads us to a black SUV that's so shiny, I can use it as a mirror. At the vehicle, we're introduced to Krothu, an orc with surprisingly kind eyes and easy smile, and Maven, our hawk shifter driver.

While Skull places our things in the trunk, his compatriots open the car for Caro and me. The doors close and we are by ourselves for a moment.

"I don't know how you were able to think around them," Caro says. "I saw the first one, and pft , all thought, gone." Her hand gestures like a place swooping away from her.

I don't tell her that part of my favorite reading material is about the Otherkin, especially the big races like trolls and orcs. It's one of the reasons I chose to work with an Orc-owned company. They are fascinating to me in a way that no other human histories have been.

Wait until she finds out my favorite dildos and vibes are orcishly big.

Shrugging, I feign a nonchalance I don't feel as I twirl my cuff between my fingers. "They're just like people from other cultures and backgrounds. I'm sure they think we're strange."

The driver and front passenger doors open and the car rocks as the men settle into their respective seats. The orc and shifter are there. Skull disappears into the airport once more.

As we settle into the plush leather seats, Kro turns to us with a grin that's all tusks and charm. "Comfortable, ladies? "We decided to drop you ladies off first as the hotel is so close. No sense waiting when we can have you there and back by the time the other guests arrive."

The orc's accent is a sort of sing-song lilt. It's very reminiscent of a Gaelic accent.

"I hope we're not an inconvenience. We can gladly wait."

"Well, it's done now," the Orc says as his colleague maneuvers us through traffic. "I'm Krothu, by the way. And this here is Maven. We were hired by your employers to make sure their key employees make it to the hotel safely."

"Is there an issue with...safety?" Caro asks.

"Nah, nothing you'd need to worry about. It's an older city, though, with many ways a person can fall through the cracks of the universe, so to speak."

"Has anyone...fell through the cracks recently?"

He turns in his seat, a smile that's sinfully mischievous. "Not anyone we care about losing." He winks and turns back around.

I little squeak escapes from Caro that she covers up with a coughing fit.

Kro's booming laugh fills the car as Maven smoothly pulls into traffic. The cityscape of Obsidian City unfolds before us, a glittering tapestry of neon and shadow.

"Now then," Kro begins, his accent lilting in a way that makes me think of rolling hills and ancient stones, "let me give you the grand tour of our fair city."

As he speaks, pointing out landmarks and sharing tidbits of history, I find myself captivated. Not just by the city, which is admittedly fascinating, but by the musical quality of his voice. It's like listening to a bard from some fantasy novel, if that bard were green and could probably bench press a car.

"And over there," he gestures toward a fancy restaurant with understated elegance, "is Ma Chérie where I met my mate—she works there."

My eyes are drawn to the glint of metal on his wrists – intricate cuffs that seem to glow with an inner light.I know enough about orc culture to know that each cuff is unique with symbology that relates to their specific clan.

"Those are beautiful," I say before I can stop myself. "Are they... mating cuffs?"

A beaming smile splits his face as Krothu shows off his cuff. "Indeed they are. We orcs, we mate for life, you know. When you find the one, you just know."

I wonder what that would feel like? The idea of being with someone that I didn't want to strangle was a fairytale more unbelievable than the stories of old when our ancestors assumed that creatures from myth were only make-believe.

I feel a pang in my chest, a mixture of wistfulness and something else I can't quite name. "That must be nice," I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.

As Maven skillfully navigates a particularly tricky intersection, I find myself lost in thought. I think back to my twenties, the awkward dates, the uncomfortable encounters, the realization that maybe I just wasn't wired the same way as everyone else seemed to be.

I'd tried, god knows I'd tried. Men, women, everyone in between—none of them sparked anything in me. Sure, I met some great friends out of it, so it wasn't a total loss, but nothing romantic.

And, on the rare occassion I found someone remotely stimulating enough to sleep with, well, let's just say dinner lasted longer than dessert.

I did have in mind to use that new dating app that everyone is talking about. The one that's set up to match with Otherkin. I didn't see the appeal before because one body is just as good as any other.

However, being around these guys is a whole other level of aura points. Before today, I considered myself firmly asexual—no one's physical appearance intrigued me whatsoever, no matter what they presented as.

But now, surrounded by these beings who are so different from anyone I've ever met, I can't help but wonder. Was it really that I wasn't interested in anyone? Or had I just not met the right... species?

What's that called? Exosexual?

I shake my head, trying to dislodge this thought process. After all, I'm here for work and not have an existential crisis about my identity and lack of a love life.

Still, as Kro continues his tour, his voice washing over me like a soothing wave, I can't quite shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I've been looking in all the wrong places.

As we cruise through the neon-lit streets of Obsidian City, I find myself eyeing my phone, thumb hovering over a folder labeled "Monster Mash" that I'd created ages ago but never had the guts to open.

"You okay there, Zana?" Caro's voice snaps me out of my reverie. "You look like you're about to swipe right on Bigfoot or something."

I snort, quickly locking my screen. "Please, Caro. Bigfoot's not my type. Too much body hair."

I'm saved from that line of conversation when Kro announces we have arrived at our destination.

We pull up to a building that looks like it was plucked straight out of a luxury travel magazine.

My jaw drops. "Holy guacamole, are we staying here?"

Caro rolls her eyes, but I can see she's fighting a smile. "Did you even read the information packet, Zana?"

"I skimmed it," I lie, knowing full well I'd barely glanced at the thing before shoving it in my carry-on.

As we step out of the car, I'm hit with a wave of excitement and anxiety. This place is way fancier than anywhere I've ever stayed before. I half expect to be turned away at the door for not being posh enough.

"Thank you so much for the ride and the tour," I say to our escorts, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "It was really... eye-opening."

Kro beams at me, his tusks glinting in the hotel's soft lighting. "Our pleasure, Miss Zana. Enjoy your stay in Obsidian City."

They make sure the hotel staff have our things and are under their care before driving away. Caro nudges me. "Come on, let's check in. I'm dying to see if the rooms are as fancy as this lobby."

I nod, following her lead, but my mind is still whirling as we cross the lobby, bellhops in tow. My eyes are immediately drawn to a quiet alcove off to the side. There, pacing back and forth like a caged beast, is an orc. And not just any orc – this one is practically radiating an aura of brooding intensity that poured from him in waves.

I freeze mid-step, my heart doing a weird flip-flop in my chest. What the heck? I've never had this kind of visceral reaction to anyone before, let alone a glowering green giant wearing a custom-tailored suit that probably cost three months' salary.

"Earth to Zana," Caro's voice breaks through my daze. "You coming or what?"

"Yeah, sorry," I mumble, tearing my eyes away from Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Orcsome. "Just... admiring the decor."

As we approach the reception desk, I can't help but sneak glances back at the alcove. The orc is on his phone now, gesticulating wildly as he speaks in a low, rumbling voice that somehow carries across the lobby.

"Welcome to the Obsidian Grand," the receptionist, a perky elf with glittery purple hair, chirps at us. "Checking in?"

"Yes, for Vormugh Enterprises," Caro replies smoothly.

As they handle the details, my mind wanders. So much for being demisexual. Apparently, all it takes is a hulking orc to make me question everything I thought I knew about myself.

"Here are your key cards," the elf says, snapping me back to reality. "Enjoy your stay!"

"Thanks," I manage, taking my card. As we head towards the elevators, I can't resist one last look at the orc in the alcove. For a moment, our gazes meet as the elevator doors close.