Embassy

Griff wheeled his bike into the print shop just as a patron was opening the door to exit.
“ ‘Scuse me!” he said as the woman moved out of the way with only an inch to spare between herself and his tires. He sped past her and nearly knocked over a paper rack. Stopping just short of flipping over the counter Griff dismounted his bike and winked at the clerk. She was a dark-haired girl of about twenty with blue eyes and a faint dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Her name-tag read “Clio”.

Clio apologized to the woman Griff nearly killed and turned to him and said, “You’re supposed to walk your bike into the store.”

“I like to make an entrance.”

“Well, next time walk it in or my boss will start using a different courier. PDQ isn’t the only bike messenger in town.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to see you every day,” Griff said, “and that would just kill me.”

“You’re not as charming as you think you are. Anyway, I believe you’re here to pick up a package.”

She handed him a small cardboard box and said, “This goes to Two Forty-One South Camac Street. The recipient gave specific instructions for you to knock three times then wait for a response. Do not knock any more or any less.”

“Seriously? What’s that all about?”

“I couldn’t tell you, but they were very specific, and I promised, so please follow those simple instructions...for me, Griff?”

“Ok,” Griff said, “just for you, Cleopatra.” He stuffed the package into his satchel.

“My name is Clíodhna, not Cleopatra.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“It’s Gaelic”

“Gail-what?”

“Irish”

“Oh,” said Griff as he bowed awkwardly, “Well, Princess Clee-o-na...my chariot awaits.”
Griff politely walked his bike out the door before speeding off down the street.

As soon as he was out of sight there was a shimmering light beside Clio. She stepped aside and watched the light grow brighter until it was replaced by the form of a girl about her age. She was stunning with bone-white hair, glowing skin and eyes the color of larkspurs.

“Oh Christ, Niamh,” said Clio, “how long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to see that boy has a crush on you,” said Niamh. Her voice was an aria.

“I thought Rowan wanted you to stay at the Embassy. So your...issue doesn’t cause trouble.”

Niamh picked up a sheet of copy paper and was idly folding it as she said, “I don’t care what Rowan wants. He isn’t my master.” She looked around and said, “Speaking of, is your master here?”

“He’s called my ‘boss’ and no. He’s on his lunch break. It’s always quiet on Saturday afternoons so he’ll probably be gone a long time. Why did you want to know that?”

“No reason,” Niamh said as she held up the paper she had been folding. It was now in the shape of a swan.

“NO! Niamh, no! Do not conjure a bird in my store!”

The white-haired girl giggled and the paper became a real live swan about four inches tall. It began to gently glide about the room.

“Sister, it’s only a small one...and they never last long.”

“That’s not the point, Niamh. Which part of ‘low profile’ don’t you understand?”

“Fine, Clíodhna.” Niamh waved a finger and the swan was paper once more. “Anyway, tell me all about this boy of yours.”

“He’s not mine.”

“Why not, dear? He’s clumsy and trying to show off for you like a child. But he has a certain charm.”

Clio smiled.
Niamh said, “So you do think he’s charming? Even though you told him he wasn’t?”

“I said he isn’t as charming as HE thinks he is. But he’s kind of cute I guess. I mean, I like his hair.”

“Oh Father be praised, you admit to liking a young man. I was beginning to think you weren’t interested in boys.”

“Niamh,” said Clio, “Did you have a reason to come here other than to pester me about my love life?”

“Can’t a woman visit her sister just because she loves her?”

“Maybe, but you never do...and it isn’t really wise for you to be walking about the city. You remember what happened last time.”

Niamh smiled wickedly, “Those boys got what was coming to them, I assure you. And in any case Godfrey has been encouraging me to go out into the lands of men more. He thinks being confined to the Embassy is not good for me.”

The door opened and in walked Clio’s boss. Clio rushed to the counter and hoped that he didn’t notice her sister standing there.

“Ted!” she said, “Short lunch?” Her eyes darted to where Niamh had been standing but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Uhm,” he said as a strange breeze blew the door opened then closed again, “yeah...yeah...I had to come back, but now I kind of forget why.”

“Well, no worries. The guy from PDQ was just here for the Camac Street job.”

“OK. And you gave him their special instructions?”

“Oh yeah, of course.”

Ted headed for his tiny office and sat down in front of his computer, “I wonder what is up with those people. Do you think they’re drug dealers?”

“Nah, all we ever copy for them is paperwork. Official documents. Like immigration papers and stuff. It’s probably just some sort of government office.”

“Yeah, but what’s up with all that ‘knock three times’ business? Maybe we should call the cops or something.”

“Ted, when was the last time you saw the cops respond in this neighborhood if someone wasn’t bleeding to death?”

“You’re right I guess.” He looked at his computer screen absentmindedly for several seconds.

“Are you ok, man? You’re spacing out.”

Ted blinked before saying, “I’m good, just tired I guess. Why don’t we close up shop early. Nothing likely to come in the rest of the day.”

Clio felt a song welling up inside her. It was not a song she wanted to sing out loud so she brushed the urge aside for now. Still, she knew this sort of thing couldn’t be avoided forever.

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me. Go have fun. Young people still do that stuff, right? Call that bike messenger kid who’s always making eyes at you. Go out.”

“Griff? No. I am not calling him. He calls me a lot, though. I have yet to answer.”

Ted saw the paper swan on the floor and picked it up, “Well, that ain’t right. If you’re not interested you should just tell him straight.”

“Well, I’m not sure...it’s just...there are complications. Nevermind.”

“Ok. But, you go on home or wherever you are when you’re not here. I’ll close up. See ya Monday.”

“Sure Ted. See you on Monday.”


--------



Cycling around a pile of garbage Griff jumped off his bike and yanked the box out of his satchel. Two Forty-One South Camac was an unassuming brown door nestled between a law office and a tavern.

Griff remembered to knock three times exactly. Barely a second based before the door swung open. Behind it stood an eight foot tall monster in with green warty skin wearing a finely tailored suit.

“This must be the package from the print shop,” it said in a gravelly voice, “Where do I sign?”

Griff did not remove his slack-jawed gaze from the beast as he fumbled for a pen in his jacket.

The monster took the pen and clipboard and signed the name, “J. William Trollington” before politely returning them to Griff.

“Will that be all, then?”

“Uh-huh...” muttered Griff, his face twisted in fear and confusion.

“Then good day, sir,” said Mister Trollington as he closed the door. Once inside he thought to himself, “What a strange young man.”

Griff stood in shock for a good twenty seconds before climbing onto his bike and zooming back to dispatch. He made it about two blocks before getting his unhelmeted head split open by the opening door of a large truck.

-----


Clio was watching a Korean soap opera when the phone rang.

“Hello?”, she said.

“Miss Lear?” said a voice like two stones grinding together. “It’s me Bill.”

“Bill? What’s up...I don’t have to report back at the embassy for a month.”

“Oh, I know, Miss Lear. But I just thought I should inform you...your friend has been gravely injured.”

“What? Who, What friend?”

“Your friend Paul. He suffered a severe blow to the head and is now being treated at the hospital.”

“I’m sorry Bill, but I don’t know anyone named Paul.”

Bill paused for a moment before saying, “Well, Miss Lear. He knows you. I picked up his phone and saw your number in it. As a matter of fact looks like this young man has called you quite a bit.”

“No one calls me...except...Griff.”

“Paul Ronald Griffin...that’s his full name.”

“Oh God Bill...Griff is hurt? I mean I hardly know the guy. Is he ok?”

“Well, Miss Lear, he smashed his head pretty bad. They took him away in an ambulance. The strangest thing. He looked at me right before it happened. I think maybe he saw me. You know...truly saw me.”

Clio was stunned. This was unthinkable. It had never happened. No human had ever seen Bill if he didn’t wish to be seen.

“Your glamour...”

“Put it on when I got up this morning. Wore it all the way to work and didn’t have a single hitch. And I even had Godfrey check it out. Sound as a bell.”

“But.”

“I know dear. The only way that boy could have seen me is if he was not human. Not entirely anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course Griff is human. He’s perfectly ordinary.”

“Apparently not. In any case, I haven’t mentioned it to anyone but you Miss. Not even Rowan.”

Clio thought of Griff lying injured on the street and nearly dropped the phone.

“Is he badly hurt? I should go to the hospital to see him.”

“I’ll text you the address, miss.”

---------------------


The antiseptic smell of the emergency room made Clio a bit ill. The crowd of damaged humans didn’t help matters much. From a glance she couldn’t tell what was wrong with any of them. At least there were no dramatic cases, like head wounds or gunshots. Clio was not a fan of blood and guts. No, she thought. No one will die here in the near future. That I know.

Griff stepped into the waiting room from behind a door. He was walking at a normal pace which was odd for him. On his head above his left eye was a small bandage.

“Hey...you,” Clio said.

“Oh wow. So you finally decided you were interested in me?”

“Um...well, I got a call from Bill. He told me you were at the hospital.”

“Who’s Bill?”

“He’s from the Em- the place on Camac where you made that delivery. Right before your accident.”

“Oh man...that guy...I’d swear I was delirious from hitting my head except it was before that...”

“What are you talking about, Griff?”

“Have you ever been to that place? Or talked to the people there on the phone? That guy is crazy looking. Like he has some disease. Gigantism of the..the everything!”

“So he’s a big guy?”

“Well, yeah, but not just that...he must be sick or something. I mean he had green skin like a monster and great big...pustules.”

“That’s a big word for you.”

“I kind of freaked out when I saw him. Aww man...I hope he wasn’t offended.”

Clio sighed inwardly. Griff was rationalizing what he had seen the way that humans often do. That was good as it meant he was unlikely to investigate further. But it was still troublesome. Bill was a monster. Griff was right about that. A troll to be exact. But he was wearing a glamour and Griff saw right through it. The messenger boy had never seemed like the sharpest tool, yet he perceived something no ordinary person could. This could be a problem.

“Shit,” Griff said, “What about my bike? Did that Bill guy say anything about it? And my phone too. It’s missing.”

“Well, Bill called me after finding your phone. He probably took care of your bike too. He’s good like that.”

“So you know the guy?”

“Ummm...well, you know- he’s a regular customer.” Clio didn’t want to reveal what she knew, “I’ve only ever spoken to him on the phone. But he’s very cordial.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to go back there right now. Without that bike and that phone I got no job.”

“But don’t you need to rest? You might have a concussion!”

“The doctor said I’m ok.” He pointed to the small bandage on his head, “Just a few stitches.”

“Maybe you should wait until tomorrow.”

“No way, I need to get to that place before they close up shop or whatever. I can’t afford to lose another job.”

"Well, fine, but I'm going with you." She needed to do as much damage control as possible. Clio did not want Griff to see what goes on inside that building.

"Well, then, lead the way m'lady", said Griff with the most awkward bow ever performed.

The two walked off in the night toward the embassy.