That evening a familiar silhouette joined my bed's shadow and together they chased away the fading light, which in truth wasn't all that different from my usual routine however when the light started Its return the following morning my shadow making its appearance once again, I didn't get out of bed, didn't grab my jacket from the closet to press it before work, or clean the room, I just watched the light stretch across my apartment, Mr. Jones's words still ringing thru my thoughts.

  You will either fly high or crash hard.

  “Seven million dollars. How am I going to break even, much less fly, with that kind of debt on my hands?”

  I lifted the piece of paper that sealed my fate and reread it once again despite its now wrinkled face.

  I remember the talk surrounding this case; most people said it was approved as a favor to the client due to the irresponsible handling of such a high-profile case and how Wachowscy, the former head of the Underwriting Department, fought to get it approved before disappearing.

  And unfortunately, I tend to believe it. After all, who wouldn't want to help out the son of Lloyd Evercrest, the father of modern Xenos culture the once great Facet?

  Now tho it's my problem, and unlike Wachowscy I won't be able to leave it behind for someone else.

  And in truth what other choice do I have?

  With that thought, I packed my few belongings, placing the file, my suit hanger, and my one coat in the briefcase I kept for work.

  My hands moved and my leather gloves creaked and stretched, seeming to echo throughout my apartment as I did my best to keep my weave tight.

  Once packed, I headed out, stopping on the threshold and taking one last look at my home before closing my door for the last time; my key sat on the bedside dresser, the closet now as empty as when I moved in, the kitchen in pristine condition and my made bed perfect except for a slight dent from years of me sitting on the edge, to most, this wasn't much, but to me it had been the only slice of normal in my life for years.

  Doing my best to imitate a deep, I steadied my weave, Then closed the door.

  Once I had reinforced my weave I pulled out the cheap blue flip phone in my jacket to call the only cab service that would deal with me.

  Just a few minutes later I received my arrival notice and entered the tenant parking garage where I was met by what looked like any other taxi service—a yellow cab with a checkered pattern on its side and a glowing taxi sign mounted on its roof.

  However, a small almost translucent logo of an M and R overlapping in the side mirrors marked it as a Meta Ride cab.

  Approaching, the rear door on the driver's side it popped open of its own volition beckoning me to climb in.

  The back seat itself reminded me of a booth from an eighties-style diner with its red coloring and almost plastic texture.

  The door closed behind me as it had opened before me, and for a moment I sat in silence vaguely aware of the oddly dull grey cabin and reflective black pane that both hid and separated the driver and me.

  A click filled the cabin before a heavily augmented, almost mechanical voice came over the speakers.

  “Are you Alastor?”

  “I am Alastor, yes.”

  “Confirmation number?”

  “8163.”

  A pause, probably to check if the code matched. “Accepted. And where is your destination today?”

  “4975 Hunts Point Rd, please.”

  “Alrighty, it will be about a twenty-minute drive, so don't get too comfortable back there.”

  Then we wore off soon to arrive at Evercrest manor, the muffled sounds of outside traffic and people echoed in the silent cab. Their drivers tend to wisely stay out of the way of their clients. After all, when you serve both supporters of the guild and those who directly oppose it, you don't want to be caught in the crossfire because of some wannabe hero or villain with a big mouth—or worse, lose a cab due to one with a brash attitude.

  Then something peculiar happened. A click filled the cabin before the robotic voice returned. “Sorry about this, but there will be a fifteen-minute delay through I-90.”

  “Why are we changing routes?”

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  The speakers clicked again. “Kelpie and Druid are currently battling on the Evergreen Bridge.” another click then the black window between us lit up with live news footage from above the fight.

  The scene showed what looked more like a war zone than a fight between Xenos. A titan of water and seaweed stood in the middle of the now-bisected Evergreen Bridge, golden chains seeming to pull power from the very essence of the titan as they attempted to bind it.

  Druid cast spell after spell his green robes fluttering behind him, as bolts of good and green slammed into the titan's chest trying to get at the woman in its core, others cut tentacles with seaweed frames and watery flesh that kept trying to pull civilians into the depths below the bridge.

  Kelpie and Druid are both rank B, mystic class Xenos, and their current clash showed it. Druid pulled his power from the energy of nature, and Kelpie from how many people she could pull under. Each battled to gain the upper hand, the struggle itself entertaining to watch as both individuals grew in power and got a better feel for the other's abilities.

  “This just in,” the reporter's voice superimposed over the sound of battle and the whirring of the news helicopter. “The guild has sent word that Nautilus is on his way to hopefully turn the tide of this battle.” Nautilus was a newer guild member that really hasn't earned a place in the public's eye, but still, a rank C Chimera is not someone to take lightly.

  The buzz of the speakers pulled my attention from the screen as its volume lowered. “We will be arriving at your destination soon. On behalf of Meta Ride, we thank you for your patience during this delay.”

  The speakers buzzed again as the automatic message finished playing, and the screen in front of me returned to its previous volume.

  “Nautilus has arrived and appears to be digging into the chest of the titan.” The camera feed zoomed in on the red carapace-covered figure of Nautilus, sitting in a fresh dent in the center of the titan's chest. Its watery skin trying to wash him away as the eight spindly arms on his back embedded themselves deep around the crater anchoring him and with the help of Druid binding or destroying every tentacle or limb the titan attempted to generate he could freely rip chunks of seaweed from its chest until Kelpie’s pale skin and the glow of her dark green eyes faded in and out of view as she tried to hide within her shell, Nautilus nearly had her.

  A click marked the end of the broadcast for me as the cabbie's altered voice returned. “Sorry to interrupt, but we are outside your destination and they won’t open the gate. What should I tell them?”

  Looking away from the now blank screen, I saw we were surrounded by a seven-foot hedge, forcing us to either drive through the large filigree gate in front of us or back up the way we came.

  “Tell them I’m from the bank.”

  I assume the cabbie used some kind of exterior speaker because a moment later the gate pulled apart, sliding into the surrounding hedge, and I got my first good look at the grounds.

  A stone road divided two acres of perfectly curated grounds, the hedges I saw at the gate running along the whole property like a wall of green, and it all surrounded a French Country-styled manor. Its exterior was a harmonious blend of stone and stucco, with muted colors complemented by the thin frames of its arched windows and the dark tiles of its steeply sloped roof.

  Pulling into a rounded driveway surrounding what looked like a small olive tree, my door popped open on its own as an all too familiar automated message played. “You have arrived at your destination. We hope you have had a safe and enjoyable drive. Should you ever need a ride, we hope you choose Meta Ride again. Thank you.” This message is wholly unnecessary as they were the only service that offered taxis to Xenos who couldn't hide their traits.

  Click. “Alastor, your total comes to thirty-five dollars even and will be charged to your account,” I swear, if there was any other taxi service for xenos, I would use it solely due to the lack of professional behavior of Meta Ride drivers.

  Grabbing my briefcase from the seat beside me, I stepped out, brushed the wrinkles out of my suit, and strode over to the grandiose inset front door.

  The clicking of my shoes against the stone steps joined the gentle rumble of the taxi's exit, the sounds seeming to cut through the silence of the grounds.

  Reaching the front door I moved for the doorbell, however before I could press it, the door started to slowly, lethargically, open revealing a slouched young man with a cup of dark coffee in one hand, a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, slippers on the wrong feet, shorts, and an undershirt like he had just crawled out of bed, the whole ensemble completed with a very expensive-looking robe that was half draped over his shoulders.

  “So, you’re Bridget’s replacement, huh?” He sounded like he was in pain with every word.

  “Yes, my name is Alastor Lamont, but you may call me—” I didn’t finish my sentence as his free hand started to wave semi-frantically in front of me.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, can you please not shout right now, man? My head is killing me.”

  “I wasn’t shouting…”

  “Alex. My name’s Alex and you probably weren’t shouting, but still, any chance you could speak a little quieter, Al?” He said, turning and heading further into the manor.

  Did he have a hangover? This idiot knew the bank was sending someone today and still got wasted. He had to be the first to go after I spoke with Mr. Evercrest with staff like this. It was no surprise that the debt had been constantly on the rise.

  “Speaking quieter is not an issue, but my name is Alastor, and I would prefer you use it. If that’s too informal, you may call me Mr. Lamont,” I added, following him into a rounded entry hall with hallways that seemed to stretch forever on both sides.

  “Fine, Alastor, whatever. Can we talk later? I feel like I’m walking through a world made of glass, alright.” This kid was getting on my last nerve to the point where my weave was nearly unraveled in some places.

  “That’s not a problem. I can assure you we will be speaking later. I just need a word with Mr. Evercrest, so if you could point me in his direction, I would be very grateful.”

  The kid just turned to look at me, or so I assume the sunglasses made it hard to tell, but the way his brows furrowed made me feel like I had just said something incredibly foolish.

  “Is he not available right now?” I probed, his expression showing no sign of change.

  “My name is Alex,” he said slowly like he was talking to a child.

  Maybe he had more to drink than I first thought. “Yes, you told me already.” Maybe I should make him lie down somewhere and sleep it off.

  “My name is Alex, as in Alexander.”

  I froze. “You are, Alexander Evercrest”

  “Yeah,” he said pain clear in his voice, “Lloyd Evercrest is your father.”

  Alexander just stood there for a moment taking a slow drink of his coffee before responding, “Yeah that’s Dad.”

  This can't be right. A man like Lloyd Evercrest would have raised his son to certain standards.

  “You’re the son of Lloyd Evercrest?” a pause, the pain in his expression seeming to increase, “Yup.”

  I can’t believe this is my client. The Evercrest name is pretty much known worldwide.

  “Look, I can see you're…” pausing, he raised his glasses, revealing squinting prismatic eyes, “eh swirling? And I feel like crap, so let’s do this later, alright.”

  I had to pause and attempt to collect myself before responding. “Yes, I believe that would be for the best. When would you feel up to it, Alexander,” he recoiled like I had just thrown scalding water at him.

  “It’s just Alex, man. And how about tonight at dinner,” he said, turning towards the left hallway, “your room is down that hall, first door on the right,” he said with a vague gesture to the opposite hallway.

  “That works for me, Alex. But when is dinner?” not even attempting to hide an overly dramatic sigh, he turned to look at me.

  “I don't know, seven thirty Ish. We can talk then, alright,” he said as he turned back and shuffled away at what I could only assume was the fastest pace he could manage in his current condition.

  Well, that explains why this case hasn't been handled yet, but hopefully tonight I can start to get things in order with Alexander.

  So I headed off to find my room and prepare for tonight’s meeting.