In a tiny one-bedroom apartment across town, Lila Jean Reno awoke to more than just sunlight slapping her face through the holes of the worn blinds.
Today was payday.
After a week of hard work serving alcohol to drunk men with grimy fingers, she was finally being “rewarded.”
Lila Jean shuffled into the kitchen, passing through the depressing excuse for a living room.
A lone chair sat against the wall, the only piece of furniture she owned.
She filled a kettle and set it on the burner, then leaned against the counter while it heated.
Her eyes drifted over the apartment.
The peeling paint.
The empty corners.
A familiar mix of anger and heaviness settled in her chest.
The thought of the day she’d finally test her swarm song on Spant pulled a crooked grin from her lips.
Her phone from the other room pinged.
Lila Jean stiffened. Only a handful of people had her number. She’d been filling out applications, chasing better work. Maybe it was a follow-up. Or the nursing home.
Her stomach tightened as she reached for the phone.
It was a payroll notification.
The grin vanished. She sat down hard on the edge of the bed, staring at the screen.
The number was small. Too small.
“Ah worked all week for this?”
She dragged a hand down her face.
“Ah still gotta pay for Dad’s stay at Carrow Lark.”
Back in the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator.
Almost nothing inside. A half-empty bottle, a forgotten container shoved to the back.
“Everything else can wait,” she muttered.
The kettle began to whistle. She poured the water into a chipped mug and stood there, steam curling up around her face.
The swarm-song whistle rolled between her fingers as she stared through the haze at her apartment.
“His fault,” she hissed.
She stepped out onto the balcony, coffee in hand.
Movement caught her eye.
A figure sprinted across a rooftop in the distance, leaping the gap between buildings without breaking stride.
Spant.
The bane of her suffering.
She raised the whistle to her lips, smiling, and blew.
Nothing.
She swore under her breath as he tackled the criminal below. Not even slowed him down.
“Ah have to make adjustments to this thing,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
A grasshopper landed on the railing beside her.
Lila Jean noticed it slowly. Carefully.
She lifted the whistle and aimed it at the insect, then blew.
The grasshopper convulsed and toppled onto its side. Her breath caught. Her heart pounded as she crouched and scooped it up.
“Oh,” she whispered. “It does work.”
She softened her breath, barely more than a whisper through the whistle.
The grasshopper stilled — then sprang from her palm and took flight.
Lila Jean watched it disappear into the morning air.
***
After taking a warm, relaxing shower, Lila Jean found herself in the front office of Carrow Lark Nursing Home.
“Mah name’s Lila Jean.”
Before she could finish, the receptionist cut her off.
“I know who you are, Lila. We went to school together. Are you here about your father?”
Lila Jean nodded.
“Yes. Ah want to pay for this month’s stay and figure out a way to pay for his outstanding bill.”
The receptionist’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
“If I’m not mistaken… your father’s account is current. In fact,” she paused and glanced up at Lila, “it’s been paid in advance for the next two years.”
“Two years?” Lila Jean echoed, eyes widening.
“Who… Who’s been making the payments?”
“There have been two donors. Both requested to remain anonymous.”
Lila Jean frowned, puzzled. She couldn’t think of anyone who would do such a thing.
She tucked the mystery into the back of her mind and made her way to her father’s room. He had been moved to a larger room, a small upgrade from the standard accommodations.
An assistant was already tending to him, but Lila Jean didn’t notice, hurrying into his embrace.
“Daddy,” she murmured, affectionately wrapping her arms around his chest.
***
Lila Jean left the nursing home with a smile on her face after spending most of the day with her father.
She balanced groceries in her arms as she glanced down at the payment receipt the assistant had handed her.
Something about the handwriting caught her eye. Her brow knitted as she tried to place it, then she shook her head. Worry about it later. Gotta get these groceries home.
Her steps slowed as she passed a boutique. A mannequin in the window caught her eye, dressed in a lustrous dark outfit that made her pause.
She placed a trembling hand against the glass. Her chest tightened with the memory of a life she had left behind; one she had sworn she would never return to.
She forced herself to keep walking, even as her eyes betrayed her, drifting back to the display.
Lila Jean hurried through the noisy hallway toward her apartment. Couples arguing, loud TVs, and the aroma of coffee competed for attention.
She fumbled with the keys and pushed open the door to her apartment. The smell of coffee filled her apartment, though she had made her last cup hours ago.
She kicked off her shoes and dropped her brown paper bag of groceries on the counter.
She froze at the sound of a voice from the shadows.
“Miss Reno,” a male voice said.
A man sat in the lone piece of furniture in her living room, tall, sharply dressed, shades reflecting the dim light. His gloved hands clutching a cup of freshly made coffee.
“You’ve been quite busy,” he said.
“Who are you?” Lila Jean demanded.
“Why are you in mah apartment?”
“I am here to see you, of course,” the stranger smiled. “Names are formalities.”
He rose, sat the cup on the chair, and produced a small electronic pad, holding it out. A live feed of her father being wheeled around the nursing home appeared on the screen. Her father was smiling. It had been ages since she’d seen him so happy.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Cut to tha chase. What… what do you want?” she snapped.
“Your assistance,” he said. “There’s a delivery arriving within the next few hours. My employer needs certain items… redirected.”
The man walked around her living room, taking in the lack of décor. The plainness of the room. He looked back at her.
“That’s where you come in. This venture requires your skills.”
Lila Jean’s stomach sank.
“Ah don’t steal anymore. Ah’m done with that life.”
The man tilted his head. He tossed the device to her.
“Your father seems quite comfortable, does he not?”
“He has been enjoying his upgraded room for a week now.”
“He has a personal assistant who tends to him around the clock.”
“He is cared for.”
“I’d hate for someone to… or better put, for Mr. Reno to suffer from an unfortunate accident.”
Lila Jean remembered the conversation she had earlier with the receptionist at the nursing home. Two anonymous donors had been paying on her father’s account. It was now obvious this person or his employer was one of those donors.
“You do this and your father remains safe,” he said.
Lila Jean looked anxious and cornered.
“If ah do this, will you leave him alone?”
He smiled.
“For today.”
He removed a cellphone from his jacket.
“You owe us. Tonight you start making payments.”
He handed her the phone.
“Yes. Your father goes on living comfortably.”
“No. He dies tonight.”
“Do we have a deal?”
Her mind raced. She had no one to reach out to for help. Who would believe her if she did?
She frowned, snatching the phone from him.
Lila Jean reluctantly spoke into the phone.
“Y…Yes.”
The man smiled. He tossed a folder on the counter.
“Everything you need to know is in there.”
The man exited through the front door but not before commenting:
“Lila. One last thing.”
“Do purchase a better brand of coffee next time. The one in your cabinet upset my stomach so I threw it in the trash.”
Lila Jean looked at the bag of coffee lying in the trash. She looked through a cabinet drawer. Her swarm-song whistle was right where she left it, next to her toolkit Spant had given back to her.
Lila Jean slapped the folder across the counter and laid the whistle and kit on the counter. She knew what she had to do—but she needed to be prepared.
As she worked on the whistle, the feed of her father on the pad went black.
***
Hours later, on the outskirts of town, the lone truck carrying Pharma’s questionable shipment approached the Lauckdon Bridge.
There was no other traffic.
Though a professional, the driver felt uneasy about the route. Yes, it was the road less traveled, but something about the air against his skin tonight refused to settle.
Streetlights lined the road, casting long shadows through the trees and tall grass.
The driver just wanted to reach the destination and unload the shipment as quickly as possible.
Perched in the darkness on the upper bracing, Nyx waited for the truck. She had her orders, and for the sake of her father, nothing was going to get between her and her objective.
Inside the trailer, someone was already killing for it.
One of Nyx’s shadows wrapped itself around the bracing.
She leapt into the air just as the truck drove onto the bridge. Shadows surrounded her, blending her into the darkness.
She held her position until the trailer was nearly under her.
A shadow connected to another brace.
Nyx performed a somersault midair.
The shadow vanished, and she landed on the moving trailer.
The metal bent to her weight ever so slightly.
Nyx ran for the back trailer doors but paused.
She heard what sounded to be a struggle come from inside the trailer.
As she tried to understand the noise, projectiles punched through the metal trailer from within, following her every step.
One exited feet in front of her.
“Nothing ah hate more than a guard with an itchy finger?” she thought to herself.
Nyx continued for the back doors when she heard another noise from inside the trailer.
This time the noise was loud and sent a vibration through the trailer.
With another thud, the tractor trailer swerved violently.
Nyx was nearly thrown from it.
She caught the edge of the truck in time.
“What tha hell?!”
Her body slammed against the trailer as she hung on.
More projectiles flew by her. These weren’t bullets… she could tell—and they weren’t coming from a guard firing wildly.
She realized they weren’t ordinary bullets.
She used a shadow to create a hole big enough to see what was going on inside the trailer.
She saw one guard unconscious on the floor and one stuck to the wall.
“Something moved quickly inside, its surface catching light in jagged patches.”
The guard on the wall began to moan when some kind of husk material began cocooning his body from the feet up.
Nyx climbed to the top of the trailer.
A single limb punched through the trailer, catching her jacket and knocking her off balance.
It wrapped around her shoulder. Her body lifted from the roof before she could react.
The trailer jolted as a force yanked her inside.
The trailer swerved. The startled driver fought to regain control but overcorrected.
The rig tipped on two wheels, then flipped, separating from the trailer.
The trailer flipped violently as metal scraped the highway.
The trailer plowed through bushes, smashing smaller trees before settling to a stop against larger tree trunks.
***
Nyx groaned, slowly awaking.
She touched her nose as she felt something warm on her lips.
A towering figure swallowed the light as it leaned closer.
One of its limbs was emitting a steady stream of husk material around her legs. She was pinned to the floor.
“You are not my concern, woman,” the creature told her. “Stay out of the way.”
Nyx looked around the trailer. Papers were thrown around, some marked confidential.
The creature turned its back without freeing her.
A crate in the center of the trailer held its attention.
With a single swing of its limb, it smashed it open.
Inside were scattered items: tech, gear, files — and a smaller crate bearing a large, faded logo of the motorcycle company Thunderbolt Motors, stenciled in black.
The creature pointed a limb at the guard, half cocooned against the front of the trailer.
“Where is it!”
The guard trembled. He struggled to free himself, the husk tightened the more he did.
“I… what are you talking about?”
The creature held a folder with Pharma’s name on it.
It pulled out a document stamped REFINED BIO PROCESS and shoved it in the guard’s face.
“I… I’m just a guard. They didn’t tell me what was in the shipment.”
The man’s eyes went wide.
The creature sprayed the husk material on the man’s face.
The man tried to scream.
Nyx cut the husk from her legs with a shadow.
Shadows surged around the creature, yanking its limbs behind its back.
She grabbed the wall and pulled herself up.
“Leave ‘em alone!” she shouted. She yanked her shadows tight.
The creature spun before Nyx could react, launching several projectiles at her.
She faded into the shadows and watched as the projectiles cut through the metal.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Y’all were the thing shootin’ those earlier.”
The creature charged at her.
It was faster than she anticipated.
Nyx leapt into the air, but it caught her leg.
It slung her across the metal.
She crashed through the trailer and slammed into a tree.
The thin metal wall screamed as the creature forced its way through the hole.
It took deliberate steps set on a collision course with Nyx.
“I told you to stay out of this,” it hissed.
Nyx rose to her knees and wiped her bottom lip.
She rubbed her thumb and fingers together, shadows shifting between them.
“Sugah, this is mah business,” she spat.
“No walkin’ hodgepodge of insect parts is gonna keep me from doing what I came here tah do.”
The creature roared. Its anger fueling it.
She stepped back into a defensive position.
Once the creature was within range, a shadow sliced through the tree trunk.
A larger shadow shoved the weakening trunk sideways.
The log crushed the creature to the ground.
“Sorry, sugah,” she said already running past it.
“Nothin’ personal. This is business.”
A projectile sang through the air.
Nyx looked down just in time to see it go straight through her left ankle mid-step.
Her left leg gave out, and she crashed into the ground.
Nyx raised up on her elbows.
Through gritted teeth, she attempted to crawl to the trailer.
“Bastard,” she hissed.
The image of her father on the electronic device flashed. She would not fail him. Not again.
It was either her father or this thing. Nyx chose her father.
A shadow enveloped her, lifting her just enough to drift toward the trailer.
I will not be stopped, she thought.
Through the haze, she watched the thing. It struggled to raise up on its legs.
Nyx smiled, thinking victory was near.
The trailer was within reach. Her debt for tonight was about to be paid—or so she thought.
A longer projectile slammed into her. She screamed and tried to yank her hand free.
The shadows around her dissipated, revealing she was pinned to the trailer—her hand impaled.
The tree log was flung aside, crashing fifty feet away at the base of a boulder.
The creature was on her in seconds. Its eyes stared down at her.
A limb clutched her chin.
Neither noticed the sound of an engine approaching.
“I warned you.”
“Sorry to disappoint yah,” Nyx’s foot struck it in the face.
The creature staggered backward.
“Ah don’t scare easily,” it yelled.
Prepared to strike her with a killing blow, the creature raised a limb.
The roar of an approaching engine pulled their attention upward.
Spant had launched the motorcycle at the creature. But not before leaping from it, backflipping midair.
The motorcycle’s momentum pushed the creature into the bushes.
“Lover’s quarrel?” he quipped, already yanking the stake-shaped projectile from Nyx’s hand.
She looked down at her hand. Her glove was red.
“Somethin’ like that,” she said.
Spant notices her accent. He reaches for her injured hand.
She slaps it away.
“It’s fine!” she snaps.
He looked at her.
“Who are you? And what are you doing out here?”
Why am I here? Why is he here? Why can’t this man mind his own business? What have these people gotten me into?
Nyx limped toward the trailer.
“Go away!”
Spant watched her stagger. Something about her felt familiar.
He reached to steady her but froze.
There was a noise—no, a vibration. The air vibrated.
A clicking buzz set his senses on edge. The faint clicking, familiar, too soft to place.
It was like an insect warning call.
The sound didn’t come from one direction. It came around them as if they were surrounded.
Nyx stilled.
“You hear that?” she whispered.
“Is that some overgrown insect warnin’ us?”
Spant grabbed her arm.
“That’s not a warning, and it not an insect.”
“Hey,” she said.
Spant grabbed her arm.
“That’s not a warning,” he said quietly.
“And it’s not an insect.”
“Hey—“
“It wants us afraid.”
Something shifted at the edge of his vision.
A claw curled slowly around a tree trunk.
Bio-resin dripped.
Plink.
The buzzing returned—closer now.
Louder.
A hunched silhouette emerged from the shadows.
Then it began to straighten, rising inch by inch, the clicking intensifying until it towered over them.
Nyx stared, eyes wide, mouth open.
“Do somethin’.”
Spant turned toward her.
“Are you getting this, Link?”
A crawler hovered just above them. It moved in quick succession, scanning the creature.
“That’s not a creature.”
Zayden spoke into the comms while his fingers flew across the keyboard. On the screen, the scan finished rendering:
HUMAN.
Male.
“It’s a human,” Link’s voice came through the comms.
“Human?” Spant whispered.
“How?”
“The scans show a marker on his heart. Pharma’s calling card,” Link said over the comms.
“Pharma,” Spant said, looking at the creature.
Swarn screamed, claws snapping open and shut.
Swarn went still.
The clicking stopped.
His head tilted, eyes locked on Nyx.
Then he struck.
Spant shoved Nyx aside as it swiped for her.