Book One – Chapter 19

The hours dragged on. It was past nine when the laughter and chatter of the oversaturated fireplace sponges finally faded into the softer murmur of satisfied and drowsing slackers, and when Yu at last managed to stack the final greasy bowls in the sink. Then he sat down on the suicidal stunting stool and allowed himself his first break in forever.

It lasted exactly zero seconds.

A creak.

The metal door beside the hearth opened.

Bubs stepped out of the surgery. His apron was streaked with drying blood, stiff where it had clotted into darkened ridges. The red smears were a disturbing addition to the bright yellows and oranges of his skin, which itself remained spotless. There was not a single drop on his hands. He took three steps into the room, then stopped.

Yu snapped back from bleak disinterest into that sharp, stupid panic of being observed. He slid off the stool at once and forced out something shaped like care and concern — or at least his approximation of whatever compassionate thing a normal person should say in this moment.

“How is she?” was the result of this attempt. Straight to the point, no greeting, no social glue whatsoever, absolutely not convincing, well done you tragic idiot.

Bubs’s eyes were already on him. Given their bulbous shape, they were also, always, on everything else. They did not shift one bit, but Yu felt the mianid’s focus sweep the room.

“We’re getting there,” was all Bubs said.

He waddled to the hearth, stopped right beside Yu – way too close for comfort – and then bent down. Then he pushed his right hand beneath the grate, past the air that shimmered like boiling glass, past the wavering orange haze that marked the edge of the flames, and straight into the fire.

Yu recoiled, all feathers on edge. “What are you doing?”

Bubs ignored him with infuriating calm. From within the fire, he slid out a metal casing. Yu would have believed it was part of the grate, had he ever noticed it. The thing glowed with shifting heat, subtly warping the air around it. Yet Bubs’ naked hand remained entirely unmarked, neither burnt nor blistered, not even reddened.

“How did you do that?” Yu blurted.

“Secretions,” Bubs replied.

Yu stared. He really stared. And then he saw it; the last traces of a thin, viscous film that coated Bubs’ arm, already evaporating into a faint sheen.

“I didn’t know mianids could do that.”

“Now you do.”

Three spare words, delivered with effortless condescension. It was all it took to remind Yu exactly what sort of person Bubs was. Well then. Fuck you too.