——————————————————

Tuesday, September 27th, 2253 - 11:11 pm

The Mystical Menagerie.

——————————————————

The laughter and music of the earlier party had long since faded, replaced by the hush of midnight and the steady tick of the cafe clock. Outside, Market Street had surrendered to quiet, the only movement the slow, drowsy drift of shadows beneath the streetlamps. Here and there, a light glimmered in an upper window, but most of the world had fallen still.

Inside the Mystical Menagerie, a different sort of energy lingered — a hush of possibility that clung to every half-scribbled page, every mug stained with the ghost of tea leaves. Jeremiah and Sam sat across from each other at a corner table, the detritus of the party long cleared away, replaced by a sprawl of notepaper, napkins scrawled with floor plans, and a crooked stack labeled "Ideas for the Menagerie." The scent of pastry still hovered in the air, mixed with the faint tang of ink and hope.

"…and if we can get certified through the Ranger's Guild, the shop could act as a foster for wild rescues," Jeremiah was saying, tracing a finger along the edge of a rough sketch. "Not just exotics or strays. Think about it Sam, real rescue work. Outreach. Adoptions. Education. Like Sarah always talked about."

He glanced up, nervous, searching Sam's face for some sign of doubt or belief.

Sam chewed the end of her pen, gaze lingering on a doodle of Billy, tentacles tangled around a half-eaten éclair. "You really think the neighborhood's ready for it?" She nodded to the window, where the night pressed close. "This isn't Central, Jerry. I get what you're trying to do, but… this is the Outskirts. It's not the sort of place you expect a pet cafe. Let alone one selling high-end pet care goods. Or any of this." Her lips curled in a wry half-smile as she surveyed the shelves and polished counters.

Jeremiah laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're not wrong, Sam. But I think it could work." He glanced out of the window into the darkness beyond. "This place… it's filled with good people, just… going through hard times." He turned back to her. "If I can offer a service that helps make those hard times a little less hard, I want to try."

He gestured to the cafe corner. "Whether that's a place they can come to get away from it all," His hand hovered over Billy's bowl, where the tiny kraken dozed, a faint snore bubbling from his beak, legs curled in pastry-filled dreams. "Or finding a friend to spend it with."

Jeremiah turned back to Sam and grinned. "Besides, my sponsor doesn't care as much about profit as they do about what the shop can do for the community." He thumbed behind him. "And with the QTM, even the poorest Outskirts residents will be able to shop here."

Sam's gaze slid to the QTM. The supposed "exchange" machine. She had already tried it when Jeremiah first pointed it out. She had even tried selling one of her own devices to the thing, receiving 200 of these 'marks' Jeremiah claimed the shop would accept in lieu of credits. Samantha wasn't quite sure if she'd been ripped off or not, but given the supposed exchange rate from marks to credits listed by the machine, it had definitely undervalued it. Then again, it had been a simple, if specialized, tool she only carried around for convenience.

Jeremiah had looked genuinely surprised by the sum, though he hadn't explained why. It left her with more questions than answers — a familiar sensation when Jerry was involved.

Sam looked back at him, the hint of a smile ghosting her lips. "You keep mentioning this 'sponsor' of yours, Jeremiah. Doesn't that sound a little… convenient?"

He snorted, rubbing at his eyes. "It's… complicated. I promise it's not some sketchy business deal. But I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding —"

"— Like you've lost your mind?" Sam finished for him, her eyebrow arched just so.

Jeremiah laughed, grateful for the familiar rhythm of her skepticism. "Pretty much."

She leaned across the table, her hand warm as it settled over his. The old comfort and weight of her friendship grounded him. "Try me. Or better yet… let me meet this 'sponsor' of yours. If we're doing this, I want to know who we're working with."

He hesitated, searching her eyes for doubt or judgment. There was only that same stubborn light he remembered from their shared days at the shelter. If he couldn't trust Sarah's apprentice, then who could he trust? After a moment, he sighed and glanced around the empty shop, heart fluttering in his chest.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Mero? Are you—"

A sudden shimmer, all blue-green light, appeared atop the tea tray. Sam jerked upright, almost knocking over her mug, as a miniature figure appeared where the sugar bowl had been. Wings fanned and iridescent, Mero perched cross-legged on the rim, grinning with wicked delight.

"Evening, Ms. Woods," he said, bowing low with exaggerated flourish. The light seemed to bend around him, shadows curling at his feet.

Sam's eyes widened. She started from Mero to Jeremiah and back, lips parted in wordless shock. "That's— He's—" she stammered, struggling for air.

Jeremiah managed a weary sigh, though a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Do you always have to make an entrance, Mero?"

The fae pressed a hand to his heart, feigning mortal offense. "Oh, come now, Jerry-boy. I wasn't spying. Fae don't 'spy.' It's just… tradition. If there's a deal brewing and someone says my name three times, I show up. Rules of hospitality and all that." He tipped his hat — where did he even get a hat? — to Sam. "And besides, you wanted to meet me, didn't ya?"

His eyes gleamed with an old, secret amusement. "I know I've wanted to meet you. Sarah spoke of ya almost as much as she did this one," Mero thumbed toward Jeremiah.

Jeremiah scowled. "Rude."

Sam stared, wide-eyed, at the impossible little man perched atop her teacup. The shock lingered for another heartbeat — then, as if a dam broke, she let out a short, incredulous laugh. It started as a bark, then tumbled into a fit of helpless giggles, her hands pressed to her cheeks. The sight left Jeremiah even more off-balance, but he found himself laughing too, relief and tension warring in his chest.

When Sam finally caught her breath, Mero regarded her with a look that managed to be both impish and unexpectedly sincere. "So, Ms. Woods — you want in on the deal, then? Or would ya rather start with the standard three impossible tasks?"

She wiped at her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. "Let's just start with tea and a straightforward conversation, if you're capable."

Mero's grin only grew as he produced a tiny cup out of nowhere and raised it in a toast. "A warm welcome, then. To new beginnings. And to the strangest team this city's ever seen."

Sam rolled her eyes, but with a smile, she clinked her cup against Mero's.

——————————————————

——————————————————

Wednesday, September 28th, 2253 - 12:02 AM

The Mystical Menagerie.

——————————————————

Jeremiah held the shop door open, the evening chill slipping inside as Sam shrugged on her coat. The distant hum of Market Street's nightlife filtered through the trees, punctuated by the whistle of a far-off tram and the rattle of carts being packed away for the night. A soft halo of light spilled from the storefront, throwing their shadows long across the cobbles.

"You sure you don't want me to walk you to the bus stop?" Jeremiah asked, rubbing the back of his neck. He tried to keep his tone light, but the worry bled through. The Outskirts could turn rough after dark. The memory of his encounter with Maddie just the night before was still fresh enough in his mind to make him worry.

Sam grinned, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "Seriously, Jerry? Who do you think I am?" She flicked her wrist, and for a heartbeat, hexagonal patterns shimmered over her skin — like interlocking panes of crystal, so thin they almost vanished in the lamplight. The faintest prickle of static crackled in the air.

Jeremiah blinked, momentarily speechless. In all the back-and-forth, he'd forgotten just who he was talking to — Samantha Woods, one of the hundred A-plus grade Gifted alive on the planet, and a Tech-type on top of it. If she said she could handle herself, she meant it. Sam might have specialized in medical equipment, but no one around here had any hope of making it past anything she built.

He let out a soft chuckle, half-relieved and half-abashed. "Right. I guess you don't need me playing bodyguard."

Sam's smirk softened into something more earnest. "But thanks for the offer." She slung her messenger bag across her shoulder and turned toward the street, then paused. "Don't be a stranger this time, Jeremiah. I meant what I said. We're not done talking yet."

He nodded, watching as she strode off, her red hair catching the last glimmers of streetlight. She didn't look back, but somehow Jeremiah knew she didn't need to. The faint shimmer of her shield lingered in the darkness, almost invisible — except for those who knew what to look for.

He waited until she disappeared around the corner before letting the tension bleed out of his shoulders. The streets felt a little emptier without her.

A soft flutter announced Mero's arrival at his shoulder, small and half-luminous in the after-hours gloom.

"Yer quiet," Mero said, wings folding. "Something bothering ya, kid?"

Jeremiah didn't answer immediately, eyes still on the empty street. "Why didn't you tell her more? About the System. You just gave her the same story as Ulrick — Sarah's last project, me finishing what she started. She was closer to Sarah than anyone."

Mero perched on the stone bench surrounding the corner tree in front of his shop, gaze unusually sober. "Ya want the honest truth? It's for everyone's protection, not just yours. Some very powerful people want the System as hushed as possible until the right time. The less people know, the safer they are. Even someone like Sam. Maybe especially someone like her."

Jeremiah frowned, watching a streetlamp flicker across the empty crossroads. "You don't trust her?"

Mero shook his head. "That's not it. I trust her as much as I trust anyone. But there are things moving in this city — old debts, old eyes, powers that would notice if you shouted the wrong word too loudly. If Sam gets too close to the fire, she'll get burned. At least for now, it's best she stays on the edge of things. When it's safe, she'll know as much as you do. That was always Sarah's plan, at least."

A quiet settled between them, heavy and thoughtful.

"Who are they so afraid of?" Jeremiah asked after a while.

Mero didn't respond. Instead, he turned and reentered the shop.

"Best head home for now, Jeremiah. Sam said she'd be back tomorrow morning with the first load of critters. Wouldn't want her to think yer irresponsible, would we?" Mero laughed, the sound echoing through the silent night.

Jeremiah sighed and shook his head. One more question to add to the list.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.