Page 6 of Lessons with the Mothman

The same path. The same man.

I was jolted back into movement by the tight giggle that answered, darting into my bedroom directly on the right. I paused inside, closing the door as quietly as I could behind me, my gaze drifting absently around the space. Sky blue wallpaper with delicate daisies, whose yellow centers matched the bright lace curtains hanging over the two windows that looked down on quiet Elm Street, on the old oak at the corner of the lawn, and the tire swing Emma and I had painted pink, now chipped and scarred with time. My twin bed faced me, wood frame painted white with modest posts topped with round bulbs. I'd begged for a canopy—too tacky, my mother refused—and settled instead for draping chiffon from the ceiling, but that had long since been removed in my absence.

There were all the signs of the teenage girl who'd once lived in this room—torn out magazine pages pasted to poster boards, and the brief resurgence of polaroids pinned around thewindow, the faces of friends I'd lost touch with staring back at me with huge grins and bold makeup, smeared after long nights in the city.

A moan and a hitch of breath slipped through the old vent at the corner of the room where my wall connected to my sister's room. The hair rose on the back of my neck.

A small stack of envelopes rested against the pillow, all advertisements and credit card offers. It'd been years since I'd lived at home, and nothing important came here anymore. All I had to do was cross the small space, grab the mail, and leave again.

"Uhn, baby, yes, that's it."

This room belonged to a long-lost acquaintance now, but I still knew every creaking floorboard on my way to the bed, and I moved slowly and carefully, face flushed as I listened.

"God, yes, you're so close now, aren't you, baby?"

"Y-yes, Brett. Please!"

I cringed at my sister's voice. This was sick.Iwas sick. And fascinated. Was she lying, the way I had? Had she learned to fake pleasure for him? I doubted it. He'd been able to tell with me, and it had been a strange start to a crumbling finish between us, every false moan chipping away another piece of any connection we might have had.

"Yes, yes, you're gonna come so hard for me. I can feel it starting. Such a good girl. You're so greedy for my cock, aren't you?"

I blushed as I made it to the bed, my fingers closing numbly around my mail.

"Fuck. Fuck, you get so tight. Holy shit, baby." My former fiancé's voice took on a broken whine as he spoke tohiscurrent fiancé, my younger sister.

Messy, I thought, a dry voice in the back of my head. It was the same voice that had privately mocked Brett's attempts atdirty talk, words stolen right out of the cheapest porn.You're so tight. You like that, don't you?Come for me, as if it was as easy as ordering me to do so.

I ducked my head as their voices grew ragged and breathy, words of praise and gratitude tumbling together. I needed to leave. If Emma caught me sneaking away after having heard them, it was only going to make her more uncomfortable around me.

Everyone thought I was the injured party, even though I was the one who'd broken off the engagement with Brett. I think they had a hard time believing the truth. Why would I give up my devoted, handsome high school sweetheart with a lakeside condo and a seven-figure income? Why would I choose to live in a cramped apartment in an unstylish city neighborhood, toiling at a useless degree? Why wouldn't it sting to see Brett move on to my younger sister in a matter of months, to see a bigger, shinier diamond on her hand than the one he'd given me?

I wasn't exactlyhappierwithout Brett, I supposed. My parents and all of our family and acquaintances were right about that. But at least I wasn't promising to spend a lifetime with someone who made me unhappy.

Brett was happier without me. Emma, who'd had a crush on my boyfriend from the moment he'd picked me up for junior year homecoming, was happier with him. And in spite of whateveryonewanted to believe, I was glad for that.

I snuck out of my old bedroom, out of the house, without another word to anyone.

The Monster SmashAgency headquarters were only a twenty-minute drive from my parents' place, and I arrived tooearly for my meeting, once again sweating in the blouse and jeans I'd changed back into. The building had a discreet sign on the front lawn, declaring it simply as MSA, and looked like one of the beautiful old Victorians of the neighborhood that had been converted into an office building when the upkeep for such a home became too much.

I pulled the key from the ignition and watched as a massive green orc lumbered out of the building and down the stairs. She was wearing a pretty wrap dress and shrugged a gym bag over her shoulder, long dark braid swinging with her steps, tusks gleaming white as she raised her face to the sunlight.

Uptown was one of the more mixed-species neighborhoods in the city, but between school and my commute, I didn't spend much time there outside of my apartment. The only other species I'd really interacted with much was my incubus friend, Lyle. He was the one who'd given me a number of places to reach out to for help.

Monster Smash Agency was the only one who'd agreed to arrange a meeting.

The chance of air conditioning in the waiting room of the building—and the potential for people watching—was more tempting than sitting in my car, so I grabbed my tablet and purse and headed for the front door. It was quiet inside. An older human man was leaving as I entered, eyes bright and hair mussed—a satisfied customer. He winked as he passed me, and I turned my face away, heading toward the counter.

"Can I help you?" The receptionist stared up at me as I gave my name, slitted black pupils in vibrant blue eyes flicking across my face. Golden ram's horns curled back from her temples. "I'll let them know you're here. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?"

"We're ready, actually, Gwen," a silky voice called, before a petite woman stepped through the doorway. She was exquisitelybeautiful, with high cheekbones and a full pout, pink hair rolling over her shoulders in smooth waves, and two opalescent horns high on her forehead. A succubus. "Elias got here early for once. It's nice to meet you, Victoria. I'm Astraeya."

I caught my breath, a rare bubble of excitement building up in my chest. Standing in front of this perfect confection of a woman made me too aware of the sweat sticking my blouse to my skin; of the thinned patches where my thighs rubbed together and wore away my jeans, threatening to split the fabric at any moment; of the ragged edge of my nails, no longer maintained with regular manicure appointments. I shook her hand and tried not to shiver at her cool touch.

She smiled warmly, and I swallowed hard. "Thank you for answering my email," I said, wrapping my arms around myself, my tablet cradled to my chest.

She waved a hand. "You have Elias to thank, actually. I'd lost track of it, but he found it in the mess of my files."

Elias. She'd mentioned the name in my email. A fae who was interested in assisting me. I followed her down a cool hall, a gust of cold air rising up from a grate.

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