Page 34 of Stripe Theory

Pink and orange sunset light streamed through the lab’s windows as Alora balanced precariously on a stepladder, her tongue stuck out in concentration. A forest of tiger-striped streamers already crisscrossed the recreation area’s ceiling, transforming the usually sterile space into something magical.

“Careful up there,” Maya called from below. “If you fall and die, I’ll have to explain to Rehan why his birthday party turned into a crime scene.”

Alora stretched farther, determined to get the banner’s angle just right. “Death by party decoration would be a very on-brand way to go. My gravestone could say ‘She died as she lived – making terrible puns.’”

“Speaking of terrible puns...” Maya gestured to the banner Alora was hanging: ‘Have a PURR-fect Birthday!’

“That’s actually one of my tamer ones. Hunter vetoed ‘You’re not getting any stripe-er’ and ‘Hope your birthday is claw-some.’”

“Hunter’s just grumpy because I made him run interference all day.” Maya arranged another cluster of black and orange balloons. “One mention of a security breach in the east wing,and Rehan’s too busy being Mr. Protective Alpha to notice we’re literally carrying a tiger-striped cake past his office.”

“You didn’t.” Alora climbed down, admiring their work. Paper lanterns cast warm patterns across the walls, and someone – probably Navi from the biochem lab – had added twinkling lights that made the whole space glow. “How did you even get a cake past shifter senses?”

Maya’s grin turned wicked. “I may have borrowed one of your scent-blocking compounds from the lab. The one you use to mask chemical reactions.”

“You used my scientific research... to smuggle birthday cake.” Alora tried to look disapproving but failed. “That’s either brilliant or terrifying.”

“Both. Definitely both.” Maya pulled out a small package wrapped in paper covered with cartoon tigers wearing party hats. “Want to see what I got him?”

“If it’s a ‘Here Kitty Kitty’ coffee mug, he might actually murder you.”

“Better.” Maya revealed a silk tie dotted with tiny, subtle tigers. “You can only see them when it catches the light. Very professional. Very dignified. Very...”

“Very much going to make his eye do that twitchy thing?”

“Exactly!”

Their laughter faded as Sierra entered with a group of younger shifters. Despite the virus’s obvious toll – dark circles under her eyes, slightly unsteady gait – Sierra’s smile lit up her whole face as she described her latest art installation to her rapt audience.

Alora’s scientist brain kicked in automatically, cataloging symptoms. Sierra’s left side showed more weakness than last week, her movements subtly compensating. The virus was progressing faster than their models predicted.

“Hey.” Maya squeezed her arm. “No doctor face at the party. We’re celebrating tonight.”

“Right. Sorry.” Alora forced her attention back to the decorations. “Though I still say we should have hired that singing telegram dressed as Tony the Tiger.”

“Absolutely not.” Hunter materialized from the shadows, making both women jump. He moved with that liquid grace all shifters seemed to possess, though his imposing presence was somewhat undermined by the sparkly birthday hat Maya had clearly bullied him into wearing. “The last singing telegram we sent him ended up in Siberia.”

“You’re joking.” Alora paused. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Hunter’s completely serious expression cracked into a grin. “Maybe. Maybe not. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Maya warned. “He thinks being mysterious makes him seem cool instead of just annoying.”

“Speaking of mysterious...” Hunter nodded toward the door where Navi hovered uncertainly with a stack of lab reports. “I thought we banned work tonight?”

“Those better not be test results,” Maya called out.

Navi’s freckled face flushed. “They’re not! Well, mostly not. It’s just... we had a breakthrough in the compatibility studies, and I thought Dr. Sky would want to...”

“Nope!” Maya intercepted the reports before Alora could grab them. “No science tonight. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not that kind of doctor,” Alora pointed out.

“Neither are you, technically.”

“I have three PhDs!”

“And zero medical licenses, which means I can absolutely prescribe you a night off.” Maya tucked the reports safely away. “They’ll still be here tomorrow.”

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