Page 108 of Remnants: Disruption
That stops me in my tracks, and Marla rolls her slitted eyes.
“Jealous?” I ask, incredulity evident in my voice.
Marla takes a step forward, her just slightly elongated nose and lips twitching with apparent humor.
“You’re a gorgeous, six-foot five powerhouse who has the attention of Bloody fucking Mary.” Marla’s breath tickles my lips, her face only a few inches from mine, though I do have to look down. “You may think you’re some terrible monster, but we’re all freaks down here. In a few days, you’ll be just another one of the faces.”
Her ever-present grin returns at my stunned expression.
“Normality is a precious commodity, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, and she takes a healthy step back, gesturing grandly to the neighborhood we’re in.
And I only now realize that we’re fully into the residential district Mary had mentioned before.
“Now, Arya,” Marla says, skipping a few steps before stopping at a gorgeous two story in the Western Alliance style. “We’re going to go meet my family and let you see the normal folk around here, yeah?”
“Your what?” I squeak, alarm bells ringing at the aspect of new people. But Marla only smiles, but this time it does seem a bit predatory.
Marla pushes into the door and disappears within. I hesitate at the base of the large wooden, wraparound deck. The house itself looks like a grand log cabin, which only further shoots pangs of bittersweet warmth through my chest.
Like Marla, there’s almost a natural normalcy to the structure. Like it exists and therefore is to be accepted.
“Arya if you keep lurking, I’ll unleash my daughter on you,” Marla’s voice comes from within, followed by a bark of feminine laughter that sounds like a different person.
Tentatively, I take the three steps and pause at the entrance to the home, letting out a small gasp.
It’s gorgeous on the inside, too. Not chic or minimalistic, like a lot of the “nice” apartments are in New Chicago, but lived in. It’s a home.
Something barrels into my thigh, and I look down to see a small foxlike child attached to my leg. Her little arms and legs wrapped around my knee and calf like I’m simply a tree to climb.
“Arya, dear,” another voice, this one a little deeper than Marla’s, trills through the door. “Please come in. Rey won’t let go until you do.”
I glance down at the child, Rey, but she seems to have also gotten the same memo. So, I sort of shuffle through the door, pulling it closed behind me.
The main room is a huge den area with a large plush sofa at the center. Behind it is a kitchen with a granite island. Across from the front door is a wooden staircase that ascends to a loft area with a few open doors.
At the kitchen stands Marla, looking a little chastised. Beside her, with an expression of both exasperation and adoration is another gorgeous foxlike woman.
“Uh,” I say, continuing to limp into the room with the child-sized attachment to my leg. “Hi?”
“Did my wife flirt with you?” The woman asks, and I blink quickly, glancing between the woman, Marla, and then the child.
God, I am an idiot.
Again.
“Uh,” I say, glancing again at Marla.
“I can’t help that I’m a natural flirt, Trish,” Marla groans, slumping forward onto the table with obvious dramatics.
“Youcanhelp the way you use that tail and flick that tongue,” Trish retorts, giving me a “what can you do” sort of look.
“You’re clearly scaring her, and I promised her some normalcy,” Marla says, scurrying forward to pry Rey off my leg.
The child lets out a very animalistic hiss but then clings to her mom instead.
“And she can have some normalcy,” Trish says, grinning at me. “Sit, dear.”
