Page 12 of Feral

I gave him a sheepish grin. Usually I was the one to make him stop and think. The fact that he was doing it to me was strange, and yet also, nice. He didn’t judge my tendency to lose myself in my work. He just simply tried to help.

“See you downstairs,” I said just before the doors closed.

Chapter Three

Daphne

Myofficewasjustoff the storage area Reggie and I humorously called the warehouse. There were garages bigger than the space we’d been given, but “warehouse” sounded better than storage closet.

And honestly, the storage closet was my office.

I’d managed to squeeze in a few plants that were struggling to thrive under grow lights just to give the gray stone walls a little bit of color, along with one accent wall of soft green. My desk was an antique roll top that was flanked by two bookshelves overflowing with texts. I wanted a third bookcase but had no idea where I’d actually put it. Shelves that had been here when the space housed mops and cleaning supplies now contained a few changes of clothes, some toiletries and my notebooks. Those closest to my desk were reserved for whatever artifact I was studying so the disk and talismans were now spread out on special cloth just above me.

I leaned over to snag one of my copies of ancient runic alphabet, over extended however, and began to topple over when invisible hands grasped my arms and pulled me back.

“Oh, thank you, Peter.”

The air to my right shimmered and I took that as “You’re welcome”.

“I feel the need to apologize for yelling at you last week. I know you were just trying to help, but certain artifacts cannot be shelved near others without terrible consequences. If you want to be of use, I can of course train you. Another set of hands around here would be nice.”

The air shimmered again.

“I wish I could hear you,” I sighed.

“He says that would be nice,” Reggie said from behind me.

I spun around and stared at him.

His pale skin flushed and his wings fluttered, a motion I’ve come to realize means that Reggie is nervous or embarrassed.

“You can hear him?” I asked incredulously.

“Every Moth hive has certain gifts. Some like me, can communicate with spirits.”

His eyes sparkled as he stared just above my head and I had to hide a smile.

I think Reggie has a little crush.

“If you know that, perhaps you can find your family,” I said instead.

He shook his head.

“I wouldn’t know how to act in a hive family. For now, it’s enough to have a purpose with you here. And to be making friends.”

My chest ached for the pain this poor being had withstood all his life. I wished I could take it away, set him free to go out and find a life.

But maybe he’s being truthful. Maybe, for now, this really is all he needs.

“Well,” I said, forcing cheerfulness, “you can begin training Peter in how to shelve artifacts if you have some time.”

Reggie’s flush deepened and his wings fluttered again.

“I-I can do that. Yeah…absolutely.”

The air shimmered and he chuckled.

“Should I ask?”

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