Sleep with the Fishies

Part 5: Break a Leg or Your Heart

     Hospital couldn't hold me. It'd probably win in a battle of wits with all the collective medical degrees, but I was determined. Typhon convinced me to stay long enough to get fixed up and got me out early with the promise of returning in a handful of hours, but only because we had no idea where Hemming would summon the Messenger. Cops had raided the warehouse and Hemming's place, but both were empty.

     Besides, I needed some bandages. I'd ripped the fragile membrane over my arm and set it bleeding again. Then there were the shrapnel wounds, the thousand cuts from my falls, itchy skin like bees having a party under there (not fun, take it from someone who knows), and my fucking eyes still streaming tears. There was a lot of screaming involved prior to getting pumped with painkillers.

     I didn't tell anyone the last thing that'd started to heal properly was my lost arm. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Maybe my regenerative ability had finally decided to quit after being pushed so many times. The shrapnel wounds kept bleeding long after they should've shut up, and my aching body wasn't any better when I left the hospital. The last crack in my skin from the torso hole was even seeping a bit, although I could feel the intestines had strung themselves so I could eat without backing up the pipes (yay!). Got a new health card that had a little 'ANEN' right next to my sex. Guess it's cool being the first registered anemone person.

     We had three hours left.

     Standing in the cool night air next to Typhon—me panting heavily, him trying to help me stand and getting shoved away—it felt like the finale. The stars, one of which was probably the last place the Old Ones fucked up, were glittering like powdered diamond on velvet.

     "Know where Hemming will do the summoning?" Typhon asked, finally giving up on helping me stand.

     "Not a clue. We weren't buddies, you know. We met four months ago, she tried to drown me, I didn't really wanna, here we are." I closed my eyes. "She'll probably call when it's getting close. She wants me to see."

     "Quite the show person."

     I let a slow smirk build across my face. If I'm gonna die tonight, I'd like to have a last drink. "We've got time to kill before the show starts. Smoothie?"

     Typhon grinned. "Hell yes."

     It didn't take long to reach the spot I had in mind. They make the best alcoholic smoothies in the city. Red and blue neon spilled onto the street, spelling eldritch messages in the gasoline. I wished I had an edgy coat collar to flip up and build that delicious noir vibe.

     Typhon smiled faintly, but he didn't speak until we ordered our smoothies: me a pink one called 'A Hundred Sins and Berries' that definitely had fewer than a hundred of both, and him one accurately named 'Frothy Orange Vodka.' We settled at a table looking out the display window. I raised my cup. "To having a correct health card."

     Typhon booped his against mine. "So when did you find out?"

     "That I'm an eldritch abomination?"

     He tried his smoothie before speaking. "You're nothing like those monsters."

     I snorted. "I was eight during the First Coming." There had been the shaking and choking and then nothing. I'd woken to my moms trying to get me up, and the news yelling about the eldritch god that'd risen from the harbour and decided we weren't ready to worship him. "I guess I figured it out the first time afterwards that this happened." I dipped a spoon into my smoothie and dropped some on my exposed wrist. Then I buried my mouth and nose in my remaining drink. For a moment it felt like I was falling as my breath drained away, then a shock went through my body and we watched the pink smoothie disappear under my skin. The cold shook my spine. I came up for proper air and wiped my face, rolling my shoulders as my body switched back to lungs. "Weird trick, huh?"