Rivers of Orion

raised her binoculars again. “Stay with him if you can. I don’t want him sneaking out the bathroom window without us knowing about it.”
“I’ll do my best,” said April, and she closed her eyes.
Malmoradan opened another snack bag. It crinkled loudly as he dug out a handful of crisps, and Casey glared at him. “What?” he asked.
“Can you not do that right now?”
“Sorry,” he mouthed, and he gingerly set the bag down in his lap. Even with his mouth closed, his crunching seemed to fill the van. Growling to herself, Casey donned her headphones and turned up the music.
◆◆◆
Dance anthems boomed all around him as Orin’s eyesight adjusted to the strobes and the darkness. On the other side of a welded wire wall, fog rolled from machines set throughout the dance floor. After a moment more, he crossed the lobby to stand before the cashier. “I’m here to pick up a friend!”
“It’s a ten-credit cover!” she replied, tucking pale-yellow dreadlocks behind one ear. She extended a gene-key reader.
“Just to pick up a friend?”
The cashier regarded him impassively. “I’ll give you ten minutes in the lobby, then you have to pay or leave! Okay?”
“Got it!” said Orin, and he checked his phone for the time. He shrugged slightly and meandered toward the nearest corner, where he leaned against the wall. Absently, he scanned the sea of dancers for his friend.
“Hey!” said Torsha from behind him, and she smiled brightly.
Surprised, he turned to face her. “Where did you come from?”
An ocelini woman, Torsha was lean and strong. Leather laces tied up her flowing black mane, held in place behind her prominent, angled ears. Her tortoiseshell fur had the look of a raging forest fire. With her thumb, she indicated the nearest bathroom. “How long were you waiting?”
“Oh, not too long!” said Orin. “Are you ready to go?”
“Almost!” said Torsha, and they shared a tight embrace. “Now I’m ready!” They followed a large group of clubgoers as they filed past Kondo, heading up the stairs.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” she said, and winced as cold air gusted against her, rustling her oversized rock concert T-shirt. Spotting Mike and Nimbus, she waved enthusiastically. Mike raised a hand in response, wearing just the hint of a smile, and Nimbus click-clacked in place, circling repeatedly.
“Any time,” said Orin. “Can I ask why, though?”
Torsha leaned into him, hugging his arm. “I missed you.”
As they joined the others, Orin said, “I missed you too, but usually when you’re feeling lonely, you organize an epic, pizza-fueled game night. You don’t call me for a pickup at four in the morning. What gives?”
Torsha laughed quietly and nodded. “You’re right. I do that, don’t I?” Drawing a deep breath, she said, “Okay, the truth. The guy who drove me here turned out to be a total creep. He and his crew had their own ideas about how tonight was going down, and it took a couple of sprained fingers to convince them they were wrong. Plus, he looked super pissed off when Kondo tossed him out. He said he was going to ‘teach me a lesson.’ Well, I’d like to see him try, but either way I didn’t feel safe, so I called you.”
“What’s his name?” asked Mike. Fury simmered in his eyes. “Did he pick you up from your house or from a public place? What does he look like?”
Torsha rested a hand upon his forearm. Her gray undershirt’s long sleeves fluttered in the breeze. “I’m sure he’s gone. I just didn’t want to take any chances.”
“Please,” said Mike. “I’d like to know.”
“Sure, okay. His name is Bello.” With a sigh, Torsha confessed, “And he picked me up from home. Before you say it, I know it was stupid.”
“It’s not your fault he made you feel unsafe,” said Mike. “What does he look like?”
Wistfully, she answered, “He’s a little short for an ocelini, but he has the most beautiful, velvety, Siamese coat.”
“Torsha Madagan, you are consistently infatuated with Siamese-coated males,” said Nimbus. “To utilize an Earth adage, I believe it to be your Achilles heel.”
“Why would that kill my heel?” she asked.
“He means it’s your one weakness,” said Mike.
Orin looked grim. “Mike, we passed a Siamese on the way here.” Subtly, he nodded toward the hoagie stand.
“I must have missed that.” Mike studied the group Orin had indicated. One figure stood out. Even hunched, the Siamese ocelini stood taller than the rest of his friends. Clearly agitated, he glanced repeatedly toward the club as his gaze darted across his surroundings. Mike leaned close to Torsha. “Is that him? Is that Bello?”
Torsha swore. “Yeah, that’s him. And his crew. Plus a few more, by the looks of it.”
Orin said, “No worries! We can take the long way back to my truck. There’s at least three alleys we can use to sneak by them. First, we’ll need to head back into the club so we can use the side exit. Torsha, you go in first. After a minute, I’ll go in. After another minute, Mike and Nimbus. Once we’re all inside—”
“Stop,” Mike interrupted. “This guy knows where Torsha lives, and no one knows how far he’s willing to go. No, Orin. We’re going to show him a better way.” He marched toward the hoagie stand. Uncertain at first, Nimbus skittered along after.
“I love it when he says that,” said Torsha. She fought the urge to grin.
Orin’s heart raced, and his voice caught in his throat. “I don’t.”
They hurried to catch up to Mike.
As they neared Bello and his crew, the ocelini stood up straight, rivaling Orin’s height. At Bello’s urging, six others—all of them human and dressed in stylish loungewear—spread out to form the horns of a crescent. “Too bad you didn’t bring more friends,” said Bello.
Mike closed the distance between them. He lowered his chin. As he got close to the eatery’s entrance, he bent his legs and extended his hands.
Regarding Mike as he stood close, the ocelini sneered, “But I guess you’d have a lot more if you weren’t