Keiy hopped out of the back seat, following them like a happy puppy. A puppy who could unleash gunfire at a moment’s notice.

  They entered the Books and Nooks Café. The bell above the door chimed. Marya looked up from behind the counter and her mouth fell open.

  "Holy shit," the barista breathed out. “A freaking alien in my café. No freakin’ way.”

  She recomposed herself quickly as Ash and Galateya approached the counter.

  Marya's eyes tracked the couple with the careful attention of someone trying not to stare too obviously.

  "Welcome to Books and Nooks," she said, her voice only slightly higher than normal.

  Strangely enough, the barista didn’t radiate surprise, shock, fear, or hatred as Galateya expected, unlike the other human customers staring at her from the café's innards.

  She radiated… irritation? The kind of irritation one might project at a… small pest?

  Galateya chose not to question the woman’s off-putting emotional landscape. Some humans were weird. She was, after all, on a ‘date’ with a particularly weird human who also didn’t behave correctly around Omnids.

  "Um. Table for two? And... one spider?” the barista guessed.

  "Three, our gun-girl spider will have a seat too," Constantine answered the barista.

  Keiy's eyes brightened. "I cannot consume sustenance, but I appreciate the acknowledgment of my personhood."

  Marya blinked. "R-right. Okay. Sure. Talking spider. Cool. Very cool… Sit anywhere you'd like. I'll be right over to take your order."

  Galateya watched the barista's gaze flicker between Constantine's ridiculous handsomeness and her own scaled form. No recognition registered in her brown eyes. The fabricated face with sunglasses, extra height and her dragon appearance seemed to create enough distance from their previous visit.

  They settled into a booth on the first floor, tucked into a corner where bookshelves formed a small alcove of privacy, facing a large window. Keiy positioned herself across their table.

  "Comfortable?" her assigned consort asked.

  "Relatively." Galateya sighed. "Still waiting for someone to throw something at us."

  "Give it time," he said lightly. "The day is young."

  Galateya tasted something in the words behind the joke. An expectation of some sort?

  Marya appeared at their booth, notepad in hand. Her professional smile had mostly returned. "What can I get you folks? And, um, what should I call you? I mean, if you have names. Which you probably do. Obviously."

  "I am Lord Constantine Belthys," Ash said smoothly. "And this is my lovely dragon, Lady Selene."

  Galateya nodded, feeling a bit of warmth in her chest. Ash used her middle name to introduce her. Even if that name belonged to the mother whom she’d never met, it was… something. A nice gesture?

  "Right. Pleasure to meet you both." Marya's pen hovered over her notepad. "What would you like?"

  "A latte," Constantine said. "And a croissant.”

  Galateya scanned the menu quickly. "Earl Grey tea. Hot. With honey."

  Different from the chai latte she'd ordered last time. Yay for the unnerving conspiracy biz. Her pink mane bloomed a few dark blue flowers due to the lie.

  "Coming right up." Marya retreated toward the counter with visible relief, still radiating mild irritation.

  Constantine leaned back in the booth, orange eyes drifting to the shelves. "So. Books."

  "Books," Galateya echoed flatly.

  "You mentioned reading romance novels. I want to hear more about what you actually enjoyed. Not just the genre. Tell me about your favorite series."

  She studied her date. The request felt genuine, unconnected to whatever performance they were supposed to be conducting. Or perhaps that was the real skill in deception—making calculated interest appear authentic.

  For a human, Ashcroft was ridiculously hard to read.

  "Ummm... right now I'm reading a book I found in your estate," she said, “.”

  "Hmmm," he voiced. "I haven't read that one. Is it any good?"

  "I didn't get through all of it yet," she said. "So far it's... interesting. Sort of like the League of Extraordinary Gentlefolks, except... more gothic romantic? I feel like I really connect with the character of Calypso who's a monster-girl brought by Dr. Frankenstein into the world of humanity that wants her dead. And also Elizabeth Lavenza who tries to keep orderly justice in Frankenstein's life now completely messed up by Calypso's existence."

  "A female Frankenstein monster shenanigans?" he asked.

  "Yeah," Galateya nodded. "Marianne Shelby's Frankenstein began on a sad note when Victor rejected his creation and ran away from it. It made sense as a dramatic plot, but I really didn't like that. It just didn't make rational sense to run away from someone you've made, you know? In the Modern Calypso book Dr. Frankenstein is in love with his creation and he's fighting against humanity who want her gone, not against the monster he's made."

  "Sounds like a fun twist on the original Frankenstein," he commented.

  "It's... More like someone kidnapped film director Tom Berton, then drugged him with a cocktail of LSD and Viagra before tying him to a chair and taping his eyelids open to force him to watch Monster Musume, Bible Black, and the works of Junji Ito on a loop. Then, they locked him in a candle-lit room with a single typewriter and said, 'Now that you're feeling inspired, write me a reinterpretation of the Frankenstein myth.'" Galateya chortled.

  Her consort laughed. "Sounds like I should check it out. Whenever I can find time for such."

  Galateya nodded.

  "What about Omnid books? What's your favorite Omnithornian-author series?" He wondered.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Galateya's mane and scales shifted slightly to thoughtful lavender. "Belle and the Monster," she said finally.

  "Oh? What's it about?"

  "A human girl who falls in love with a Skinwalker. He's cursed to hunt and kill, but she sees past his nature to who he really is underneath. They fix up his… cursed domain and build a life together."

  Constantine tilted his head. "A Skinwalker… Omnid?”

  “Yes.” Galateya nodded. “They’re like… Expert shapeshifters. One of the Omnitypes from our homeworld. They can wear other creatures' skins and become them. Perfect mimicry. Irresistible charm."

  "Mimicry? Like your Phase-shift?"

  "No. Much more… morally complicated." Her tail twitched beneath the table, mane darkening. "Most Skinwalkers are... not good people. They hunt. They deceive. They view other beings as… costumes. Some work as assassins for the Frontenachii. Others operate independently, running their own criminal enterprises. Many of their clans oppose the Frontenachii, run their own Omnicorps.”

  “Do they have colony worlds too then?”

  “Yes.” Galateya nodded. “They do. Unlike the Taniwha, Skinwalkers generally have no moral compass. They are dangerous because by their nature they must devour souls to gain new forms and powers. The more souls a Skinwalker consumes, the more powerful and attractive they become.”

  "I see. So the Skinwalker in your books..."

  "He was different. He was weakened by the curse, bound to his domain, constantly starving. He spent centuries suffering and slowly dying." Galateya's voice softened. "Lisabelle found him in his Estate. Everyone else who entered his domain ended up dead, but she… didn’t."

  “Oh? How’d she survive?”

  “His domain was cursed by a Wendigo Archmage,” Galateya explained. “The clever, trickster Wendigo planted an artifact that slowly bloomed in his garden. A rose of terror. A… dungeon core.”

  “A dungeon core?”

  “Yeah.” Galateya relaxed slightly, her voice settling into the comfortable rhythm of an avid reader discussing a beloved story. "The cursed artifact fed on fear and gradually turned his domain into a dungeon of terror. Anyone who entered the domain became trapped within its boundary, their fear sustaining the curse. The Skinwalker couldn't remove it himself—the Wendigo Archmage was very clever and bound the rose to his soul. But Lisabelle..."

  Her scales rippled through soft pinks and lavenders. "Lisabelle wasn't afraid. She saw the estate as beautiful. Saw him as someone worth knowing. Her lack of fear didn’t allow the dungeon to snap her mind and so… together they worked to cleanse the entire domain."

  Constantine leaned forward slightly. "How long did it take them?"

  "Three years. Eight books." Galateya's claws traced the wood grain of the table. "Each book focused on a different part of the massive, dimensionally-twisted estate they restored together, overcoming various horrific dungeon sentinels and clever terrors manifested by the rose, an entire legion of ghosts trapped there over centuries. The greenhouse in book two. The library in book three. The ballroom in book five. And so forth."

  "And they fell in love during all this restoration work?"

  "Yes," Galateya said, "he taught her magic. She taught him how to be gentle again. How to trust. How to believe he could be more than the soul-eating monster everyone else saw."

  Marya returned with their drinks and snacks, setting them down carefully before rapidly retreating again. Galateya wrapped her clawed hands around the teacup, feeling the warmth seep through.

  "The series ends with them clearing the dungeon, freeing the domain from the rose and getting married," she continued. "Running the estate together.”

  “She turned him into a human?” he wondered.

  “What? No, you cannot turn an Omnid into a human. He… simply chose to use his nature differently. To protect rather than hunt. To love rather than consume."

  "Sounds like a good ending."

  "It was." Galateya stared into her tea. "You know, I used to read those books and picture myself as the protagonist… Lisabelle. Trapped in a time bubble with hateful Instructors, waiting to be free… to find someone to build a future with."

  She paused, her scales darkening to slate gray threaded with dull copper. She let go of her tea and put her claws on the table, leaning back and closing her eyes in lamentation.

  "But now I know Yulia gave me those books for a reason. Doctor Iowsh selected them on purpose. Every story about humans and Omnids finding common ground. Every tale of outcasts building something together." Her voice carried a hollow quality. "Even the stories I loved were… lies. Designed to make me more… amenable to humans."

  "Does knowing that change how you feel about the stories?" Ash asked, his hand reaching out to cover hers.

  "I don't know." Galateya's mane shifted to wilted flowers and then bloomed again at the gesture of possible affection. "The emotions were real when I read them. The hope was real. But was any of it actually mine? Or was I just responding to programming?"

  "Does it matter?"

  She looked up sharply. "Of course it matters. If every preference, every dream, every—"

  Keiy's head snapped toward the window so fast her articulated legs scraped against the booth's vinyl seat. Her triangular eyes blazed bright red, scanner beams flashing across the wall and window.

  "Vehicle arrival!" the gun unit announced, sounding clipped and urgent. "Packard sedan. Nineteen thirty-seven model. Six occupants exiting. Armed with projectile weapons! Second vehicle—rented moving van! Additional occupants with more weapons. Threat assessment: critical!”

  Galateya's head swiveled to the large window beside them. Through the glass, she watched men emerge from the old car. They moved in with a slightly uncanny wobble, spreading out to cover multiple angles of approach.

  The moving truck's rear door slammed open. More figures jumped out, tommy guns gripped in pale hands.

  "Thralls!" Keiy's voice pitched higher. "Armed crystalloids!"

  The symbiote launched herself across the table, folding mid-leap into her weapon-form configuration. Galateya's hands closed around the gun's frame instinctively as Keiy settled into her grip.

  "Galya! Hide the gun," Ash ordered suddenly, sounding far too much like himself. "Human form! Now!"

  Galateya's scales flashed brilliant orange, mane shifting to jagged spikes. "Why? I can handle—"

  "Look at the truck!"

  Her eyes tracked to the larger vehicle. Two thralls remained behind, standing guard over something big in the cargo area. Several red barrels with warning labels. Industrial size. A clock-like device taped to its top, wires snaking down into the container's depths.

  "That’s a bomb," Constantine said. "They're not here for a firefight. They're here to make a statement. If you reveal yourself as an Omnid Knight, start firing, someone triggers that bomb and this entire block goes up. Hide the gun under the table, bide your time!"

  Galateya's jaw clenched. Her training screamed at her to act, to eliminate the threat. But… Ash was right. Any combat would escalate to detonation.

  She exhaled, forcefully focusing her Phase-shift.

  Her scales melted. Dragon features smoothed into human skin. Seven feet compressed to six. Claws retracted into normal fingers. Her mane turned into jet black hair. The pink dress adjusted itself as her body reconfigured, fabric flowing over smaller human curves.

  She slid Keiy under the table, positioning the gun unit on her lap beneath the concealing tablecloth. Keiy's metallic body felt cold against her human skin.

  “I asked Kawartha for backup. Her Seeker should be here… soon,” Keiy whispered from under the table.

  The bell above the café door chimed.

  Men poured through the entrance in a coordinated rush. Six of them, all carrying Thompson submachine guns. Their faces shared the same waxy pallor. The same flat, gray eyes.

  Thralls! Reanimated corpses piloted by vampire consciousness.

  Marya froze. A customer near the counter dove behind a bookshelf. Another patron choked, dropping their drink.

  The thralls spread out, covering exits and windows. Two positioned themselves near the counter. One blocked the stairway to the tower reading room. The others maintained firing lanes across the main floor.

  Then the head vampire entered.

  A girl who looked perhaps twenty. Pale skin that seemed to drink the light. Gray eyes. Long black hair pulled into twin braids tied with red ribbons. She wore a vintage red and black dress, all lace and velvet, something from the nineteen-twenties.

  "Good morning, valued customers of Books and Nooks," the girl announced, her voice carrying an affected cheekiness. "My name is… Count Chocula, and you are all now my hostages."

  She curtsied formally.

  "Please remain seated," Count Chocula continued, gesturing to her thralls. "My associates have been instructed to maintain order. Any attempt to flee or contact authorities will result in... unpleasantness. We have a bomb in the van outside, you see. Enough explosives to level this charming establishment and half of Cascade in one fell swoop."

  Marya choked behind the counter. A elderly man in the corner reading nook clutched his book like a shield.

  Count Chocula's gray eyes swept the café, cataloging each patron. Her gaze lingered on Constantine for a moment, then moved to Galateya.

  "Ah, lovely," the vampire said, her smile revealing teeth just slightly too sharp. "A couple on a date. How… romantic."

  The clock tower looming above a gothic church in the window struck twelve.