Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

ZELDA

The largest city on Mars, Opportunity, flanked the volcano Arsia Mons. Lava tubes and caves sheltered the first settlers from radiation and the harsh Martian climate. Then the domes came, forging an enclosed environment. The domes expanded, eventually creating a continuous ring around the volcano. Inch by inch, humans carved a place for themselves on Mars. Terraforming was still a science fiction dream, but reality was getting closer. The atmosphere was almost breathable. It wasn't farfetched to think that Zelda might one day be able to walk outside a domed city without a breather, though she'd be an old lady when it finally happened.

The sky was still pinkish red. Some things stayed the same.

Tucked away in the oldest parts of Opportunity, deep in the tunnels, with no natural light, was the only place on Mars willing to hire Zelda.

The pawn shop wasn't exactly a good use of her art history degree. Their typical clients hardly ever brought in antique paintings or fine silver to sell, unless they were stolen. While the shop's policy was not to ask questions, some items were too hot to bother with. They dealt in jewelry. Zelda spent her days testing, authenticating, and giving an appraisal. Whatever the value, her boss took thirty percent off the best offer and marked up the item by fifty percent. It was robbery, but people were desperate.

Zelda was one. She did her job and minded her own damn business.

"What do you think of these?" A customer leaned forward and tapped the glass display case. The piece in question was a crystal necklace designed to resemble a fish curled around the wearer's neck with a fanned tail at one end and head at the other. The display card claimed it was a "dragon" design, but it looked like a goldfish to Zelda.

"Crystal set in sterling silver. Each link has some movement, while the overall structure maintains the shape. A piece that will make an impression." If that impression was that the wearer really liked guppies.

"Yes, but I asked what you thought, not its credentials." He looked up through the light brown hair that fell forward. The light caught the blue in his eyes. He sported two days' worth of scruff along his jaw. Oddly, that only made his lean face more appealing. Some men wore unkempt well.

"It's very shiny," Zelda said.

The man did not seem impressed. She smiled blankly.

He hummed and tapped a finger against his lips, thinking. "Is there anything noteworthy in the shop, in your opinion?"

"Noteworthy," she repeated. The shop didn't have much in the way of noteworthy. The truly valuable pieces were listed on the network. Mostly tat and flashy junk filled the display cases.

Zelda pulled out a nondescript wooden box and opened it to display a polished gray rock set in the center of two golden rings. Each ring held a small green stone.

"This is interesting. Martian meteorite," she said, holding the pendant up by the chain. With a flick of her finger, the rings rotated around the central stone. "The central stone is Mars. The smaller stones are peridot and represent the moons Phobos and Deimos."

"How is a Martian rock interesting?"

"A Martian meteorite," Zelda said. "It broke off from Mars, fell to Earth, was discovered, set in this piece, and made its way back home. No one has traveled more than our friend here." The pendant spun lazily, gleaming in the shop's lights.

"And you like this?"

"My opinion doesn't matter. Only the opinion of the person who wears it counts," she said.

"Then your opinion matters." He licked his lips and Zelda knew.

Malgraxon.

"You!" She took a step back from the counter and glanced around. The shop was empty, and the owner, Geneva, was in the backroom. "You changed your face."

"You don't like this one? You didn't seem to appreciate my face last night." Malgraxon planted both his hands on the counter and leaned forward, giving her a good look at his swirling black and blue eyes. "It's a good face, I think."

"Your face is fine." In a whisper, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"We have details to discuss."

"Are you serious? Here? Someone might overhear us."

"Who?" Malgraxon spread his arms wide to draw a point to the shop's emptiness.

"My boss is in the back, and I'm supposed to be working." She looked over her shoulder to the doorway with a beaded curtain that separates the back of the store. Her boss could hear everything.

When Geneva failed to come charging out, threatening to fire Zelda for slacking, she relaxed some.

"Hmm," he agreed with a hum—and damn it, that should not make her heart flutter. "You're very good at working, too. It's adorable. I'll take the well-traveled rock. When you are done with that, I will take you shopping."

"I'm working," she repeated. "Honestly, I get that's probably not a concept you're familiar with, but us mere mortals need money for food and rent."

"I am familiar with the concept. Now hurry. You are cranky and I think you need to be fed."

Zelda couldn't fight the blush that colored her cheeks. Was that a crack about her weight? Like all a chubby chick did was eat?

"I'm not hungry," she said. Lunch had been a cheese sandwich and a bag of stale popcorn. Hardly wholesome, but it did the job, and it was cheap.

Malgraxon tilted his head like she was bizarre, and honestly, it was the most alien thing she'd seen him do. "I have upset you."

"I can't leave. If I leave, I will lose my job, which is a problem because this is the only place willing to hire me."

"Sounds tedious."

He was impossible.

"Malgraxon, life is tedious. This conversation certainly is." Maybe a little vinegar would make him go away.

No such luck. He flashed a dazzling smile, her sour response only seemed to delight him. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. Actually, he might have a tail. He was a shapeshifter.

"Mal, please," he said. "I will speak to your boss. It is not a problem."

He tossed a credit coin onto the counter and headed toward a doorway with a beaded curtain. "Purchase the necklace. I want to see you wearing it when I return."

"Geneva's not back there."

"I hear a second heartbeat. Either it is the shop's owner, or you have an intruder. Either way, you will thank me."

She turned to watch him go by, not to check out his butt. Other reasons. She couldn't think of one, but definitely other reasons.

Mal looked over his shoulder and gave her a wink before disappearing through the beaded curtain.

Zelda slumped against the counter. She needed Mal's help. That hadn't changed. She wished he were more discreet. Deals with the Daimoni were illegal for good reason. The Daimoni were unpredictable. Tricksters. They'd deliver a contract to the letter yet manage to screw you over and do it with a smile on their faces. They couldn't be trusted, and Mal was in the back doing who knew what to Geneva. Mind control? Spinning lies? Making another bargain?

Geneva was savvy. She wouldn't be charmed by a pretty face. She'd see through Mal's facade to the Daimoni demon he was. As long as she didn't have proof, as long as he didn't reveal himself, Geneva could be as suspicious as she liked. The older woman was suspicious of most people.

The thought calmed her. Geneva's natural disposition leaned more to mistrust than trust. She'd toss Mal and his handsome face out on his nice butt.

Whistling, she rang up the necklace, adding the inconvenience fee they used for annoying customers, and gave herself a generous tip. Very generous. The necklace was all bagged up when Geneva emerged, dragging Mal by the wrist.

"Zelda! You didn't tell me it's your birthday," Geneva said in an aggravated tone.

"Because it's not—" she started to say.

"Not important," Mal cut in, speaking over her. "I told you she would say that, Miss Geneva."

Geneva folded her arms over her chest and made a disapproving noise. Through thick glasses that magnified her dark eyes, she glared at Zelda. It was terrifying.

"Take the afternoon off," Geneva said, frowning.

Correction: now she was terrifying. This had to be a trap. Geneva wasn't a tenderhearted person. She ran a shady-at-best pawn shop in a shady neighborhood. It'd be nice to think that she'd hired Zelda because she didn't give a fuck what other people thought, but Zelda knew it was because Geneva saw the chance to grab a highly qualified expert for practically nothing. Zelda was a bargain, and Geneva was shrewd. Giving afternoons off didn't figure into that.

What had Malgraxon done?

Then came the thought that chilled her. Did Geneva know the truth about Malgraxon?

"You've got those boxes from the estate sale to sort through," Zelda said, watching Geneva's reaction for a clue.

Her frown intensified. "Let your nice fella spoil you on your birthday."

Nice fella? Oh, Geneva knew. She absolutely knew.

"I'm not sure what he told you, but it's not true," Zelda said.

Geneva snagged her arm and dug her bony fingers in. She spoke quietly, "Mal told me enough. I'm just glad you've met someone. The way your last man treated you was a disgrace."

Zelda blinked. She hadn't shared all the mortifying details with her boss, so Malgraxon must have spilled the beans. "Yeah, Walker was a real piece of work."

"Go enjoy your day. The boxes from the estate sale will be waiting for you," Geneva said.

"Thanks," Zelda said, still suspicious, but she grabbed her bag and left before Geneva could change her mind.

"I like her," Malgraxon announced once they were on the street. "She's spicy."

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth."

All her blood drained away, leaving her cold. "The truth?"

"Relax. A tailored version of the truth." He snagged two apples from a fruit vendor on the corner and tossed a credit chip to the merchant. "It's always easier to tell the truth than spin a lie." He crunched into an apple. "Lies have so many details to remember," he said, mouth full of apple. Juice dribbled down his chin, and his long tongue flicked down to lap it up.

She might have been staring.

"What? Did you want one? You claimed you were not hungry." His eyes swirled black and blue, and he looked thoroughly amused at catching her staring.

"I might be a little hungry," she admitted.

"Ah, I see you understand the art of telling the partial truth." He grinned and tossed her the other apple.

Zelda muttered very rude things before eating her apple.

A vehicle stopped at the curb and a door opened. Malgraxon gestured for her to enter. Mouth too full of apple to protest that she didn't accept rides from strange demons, she climbed in. Her feet hurt too much for walking anyway.

The richly appointed interior smelled like money. Lots of money. The driver—a real person and not an AI driven car—confirmed wealth.

Malgraxon munched on his apple, watching her with his oddly swirling eyes. Whatever he was getting out of this arrangement, it wasn't money. He had plenty already.

The vehicle glided through the tunnels. Buildings huddled close together. None were taller than two stories. Moss clung to the rock ceiling, embedded with lights that were either too bright or failing. Despite the controlled temperature inside the vehicle, her hair stuck to the back of her neck thanks to the humid, warm air. Between the heat and the suffocating feel of the tunnel about to collapse, it was no wonder that people built outside as quickly as possible.

"Where are we going?" she asked as the vehicle exited the caves. A murky pink sky spread out over them. She hardly noticed the dome or the structural supports anymore. It was all part of the scenery.

"To procure appropriate clothing for the auction."

"I have a dress."

"No," Malgraxon said.

"You haven't seen it?—"

"No," he repeated. "You clearly do not have the ability to dress yourself."

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing." She wore a draped front cardigan with a hood. The drape of fabric was generous enough to be wrapped up and affixed to the hood to protect her face. It was a wardrobe staple. Mars was dusty, even inside the enclosed environment. Traffic stirred it up from the ground, and the air circulation system spread it throughout the city.

Her outfit might not have been fashionable, but it was practical. Everyone wore one.

"Do not be embarrassed. Dressing well is a skill that requires cultivation," Malgraxon said.

"You literally stole your outfit from a theater department."

"Did I?"

How would she know? Probably. She didn't know him well but that seemed like the kind of stunt the Daimoni were known for. They were capricious. Interested in their own amusements. Indulgent.

He finished his apple, eating it whole, core and all. He eyed Zelda's apple core, his long tongue licking his lips. She passed the core over without a word. He swallowed it with a grin.

The city rolled past the windows, moving from the shabby familiarity of her neighborhood to the swankier part of the city. The buildings still had the shiny gloss of newness, paint not scoured away by dust, and zero signs of rust. Miles of flawless glass panels slid by. The people they passed might as well have been a different species, which Zelda knew was silly. They were as Martian as she was, if better dressed. They were elegant and cool, in pristine outfits that red dust wouldn't dare sully.

The vehicle stopped in front of the kind of discreet store with understated signage that meant expensive. "Here we are."

Inside, the shop was a cozy space with wood panel walls, potted plants, and a plush leather couch. Definitely expensive. The wood looked to be actual hardwood, imported from Earth, not the processed kind made from the fast-growing bamboo cultivated on Mars.

Zelda failed to see any actual clothes.

"Malgraxon—"

"Mal," he corrected.

"Mal, I can't afford this," she whispered.

"Nonsense."

"Not nonsense," she said.

Malgraxon didn't listen and grinned as a clerk approached. "My companion requires a selection of gowns suitable for a gala. My account," he said, handing over a credit chip.

The clerk gave Zelda a critical scan. "I see. Does madam have a preference?"

Something cheap , she nearly answered.

"I'm not sure," she eventually said.

"Hmm. Measurements first, and then I'll check our stock." Out came the tape measure, followed by clipped orders to raise her arms. "Have a seat and enjoy some refreshments," the clerk said before vanishing in the back.

Malgraxon settled onto the couch, resting his arms along the back like he was in his own home. Another clerk brought Zelda a steaming cup of coffee served with a chocolate wafer cookie on the side.

"This is too much. I'll pay you back," she said, unsure how, exactly, she would do that. Her wages from the pawn shop barely covered her bills.

Malgraxon raised a hand to silence her. "Cease your protests. It is tedious. This is part of the contract. You will be paying me appropriately." Zelda's back stiffened. Before she could tell him and his high-handed, cocky attitude to get stuffed, he continued, "When stalking prey, it is necessary to blend into the environment. In this instance, you are my companion to an exclusive party at the home of Amiron Yan. As charming as I find your current outfit, you must look the part."

Zelda resisted the urge to wrap her cardigan around her like a shield. "I guess that's reasonable," she said, though she still worried about how exactly Malgraxon would insist on being paid. A kiss. "Do you have a plan once we get to the party?"

He waved away her concern. "I will sort out the rest of the details, but the bait in the trap must be irresistible."

"Is it more or less complicated than throwing a bucket of red paint on Walker?" she asked, completely ignoring the fact that he implied she was irresistible. And bait.

His eyes swirled, and his lips twitched with amusement. "Slightly more complex than that."

The clerk returned with a rolling rack stuffed with options. Zelda gravitated toward a simple black dress with long sleeves. Malgraxon proclaimed it was too ordinary. She loved the way the teal green dress with puffy sleeves fit her, but Malgraxon declared that it would draw too much attention. She needed to blend in.

"This is the one," Malgraxon said when she emerged from the dressing room in a midnight-blue satin dress with a fitted skirt and lantern sleeves.

The shiny fabric went against everything Zelda had been told about fashion rules for her body type, but the dress hit her waist just right. She turned in front of the mirror, admiring the reflection from all sides. She was afraid to ask the price. This was the kind of shop that didn't put price tags on the merchandise.

"It's missing one thing," Malgraxon said. He reached into his pocket and produced the meteorite necklace.

"I can't—" she protested.

"Why?" He hesitated, the golden chain stretched between his hands. When she couldn't explain why accepting the necklace felt wrong, like that gift would make this a date and not a business transaction, he stepped closer to place the necklace around her throat.

Zelda held her breath. He was so close and smelled so good, of impossible things like rain and blue skies.

"There. It traveled to Earth and back for you," he said. He lingered, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. Was he going to preemptively claim his kiss? Did she even mind? No, not really.

He smiled, a real one that touched his eyes.

All this for a kiss. That didn't seem balanced. At the end of this, when Zelda got her vengeance and Malgraxon got his kiss, she'd still be in debt to him.

None of this made sense.