Jalen: Pisces the Dreamer (Trials of the Zodiac Book 1)

A GOBLIN'S GAMBIT

We ventured into the city's industrial sector after we escaped from the airport. Balam oscillated between a brisk pace and a casual saunter. It's likely that the film crew captured our faces and is already distributing them. The urgency to get out of the country had grown tenfold. The streets had minimal foot traffic, especially compared to the rest of the bustling city. There were distant horns, but otherwise, the air hung still with an eerie quietness punctuated by the acrid stench of smoke and chemicals that lingered in the air like an oppressive fog.

"Hey, Balam—what have you on edge?" I prodded, my gaze scanning the surroundings. He glanced around again, his eyes darting like a predator assessing its environment.

"This contact of yours who can get us to Fort Lauderdale... he's not precisely a philanthropist, is he?"

A grim smile tugged at his lips, and he spoke hushed, revealing the truth behind our precarious situation. "No, he's more of a loan shark. About fifty years ago, I found myself in need of funds to build my treehouse. I stayed off the grid for quite some time, but my lack of income caught up with me. I was also tired of pretending I was happy being a woman. I needed money to transition, so I reluctantly turned to him to secure a nest egg."

"We've all had to make compromises we're not proud of," Kai's voice was steady, empathetic. Balam's revelations resonated with me, a reminder of what I had to do to survive.

Following Balam's lead, we arrived at a nondescript warehouse, its entrance guarded by a large blonde man who dwarfed even Kai in size. Balam confidently approached the man, their height difference quite pronounced as Balam had to tilt his head upward to meet the titan of a man's gaze.

"I need to see Sabastian immediately, "Balam asserted, his tone stiff as he confronted the imposing figure guarding the entrance. The man's gaze met Balam's only briefly; his response was curt and dismissive, "No visitors."

There was an inexplicable edge to the man's accent, a peculiarity that caught my attention as I usually had a keen ear for such things. Balam attempted to maneuver around the guard, but the man intercepted his movement with an outstretched arm.

"I need to see him and would hate to have to force my way in," Balam persisted, undeterred by the man's tone. Balam made another attempt to bypass the guard. This time, however, the guard responded more forcefully, pushing Balam back. Kai and I instinctively moved to intervene, but Balam regained his balance and launched a rapid barrage of punches at the guard's torso. The man buckled and hit the concrete, giving Balam an opening. He slid past the guard, opened the rusty steel door, and entered the building.

"Let's move," Kai commanded, and we stepped over the fallen guard, who groaned. Crossing the threshold into a sprawling warehouse filled with pods, I wondered who worked there. The room was lit with fluorescent bulbs that hummed with electricity, and the heavily tinted windows filtered out much of the natural light, leaving the space imbued with an almost clinical ambiance. The scent of cleaning agents and metal lingered in the damp air.

A raised platform loomed at the rear of the warehouse, and upon it sat a figure whose presence commanded immediate attention. Who I assumed to be the mysterious Sebastian, bore into us with ruby-red eyes, their intense gaze radiating an aura of unwavering authority. His metallic gold skin gleamed with an eerie, almost otherworldly sheen, while his entirely hairless head and slightly pointed ears added to his menacing visage. Flanking him stood two imposing figures, both blonde-haired, their formidable stature accentuating their threat. The man towered significantly above the woman and the door guard, his frame casting a long shadow. As if to make up for her lack in size, the woman held a shotgun with its ominous barrel pointed squarely in our direction.

Balam's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, a touch of familiarity laced with urgency. "Sabastian, it's Maria. You lent me a million dollars for a treehouse project with an interest rate of one hundred and twelve percent. Instead of money, I repaid you by purifying your poppy crops," he declared.