NINE: Gorgon

It was nearly eleven when Alden arrived in front of the consulate building. The street was quiet, which only made the angry sounds coming from the cat carrier in his hand more disturbing. Victor didn’t do confinement, and he wanted everyone in the neighborhood to know it.

In Alden’s other hand, he carried a pair of overstuffed grocery bags. His pillow was tucked under his arm.

I’ve completely lost it, he thought as he stared up at the dark building. I’m behaving like a drunk person, and I don’t even have the excuse of being one.

Alden had always been a planner. He saw now that this was not an optional state of being for him, since without a plan he just…did random insane things.

The consulate was closed. Obviously. Because there was literally no reason for anyone to hang out there in the middle of the night. But there was something that looked like an intercom on the gate.

I came all the way here, so I might as well.

He maneuvered the cat carrier toward the intercom and managed to press the button with a knuckle while Victor hissed and yowled. There was no sound or blinking light to indicate whether or not the device was working.

“Hello?” he said. “This is Alden.”

There was a long pause before any response came.

“I see you on the monitors.” It was Gorgon’s voice.

“Great! Can I come in?”

“The building is closed until nine AM tomorrow.”

“Don’t be like that, Gorgon. I can’t sleep. And you said you don’t sleep much. We can hang out. Like a slumber party without slumber. It’ll probably be the most exciting thing that ever happened at this place.”

“I am sure your family is worried about you, Alden. Please go home.”

“And I am sure my only family member is on a spur-of-the-moment roadtrip to California with a cat-food thief. There’s not a single person in the world who will miss me tonight.”

The intercom went silent again.

When it came back on, there was a dramatic sigh. “That’s the most depressing thing I’ve heard in months. Fine. Come. But I just mopped the floors. Leave your shoes at the door.”

A moment later, there was a beep, and the black metal gate rolled back on its tracks. Alden slipped inside, feeling childishly excited to be doing something a bit illicit in Artonan territory. As he passed by the flagpoles, he saw one of the lobby lights flicker on.

He headed in, and Gorgon met him. The alien was standing less than a foot from the door, his golden bindings trailing through the air behind him like the tendrils of a jellyfish until they disappeared behind the lobby desk.

“Shoes,” he said, pointing at Alden’s feet like they were on the verge of committing a terrible crime.

“Yes, sir!” Alden grinned at him and bent to untie his sneakers.

“Just so we’re clear, this ‘slumber party’ will not be the most exciting thing that ever happened to the consulate. I’ve dealt with two attempted bombings and a handful of enraged superhumans over the years.”

“Oh…well, I did bring snacks?”

Gorgon’s head turned to the cat carrier. “No, thank you.”

“Not the cat!” Alden squawked. “This is Victor! He’s my pet…more like a roommate, really. Anyway, he’s a party guest not a menu item.”

“Are the noises he’s making signs of enthusiasm?”

“Rage,” Alden said. “But it’s fine. He’ll be happy once I set him free.”

A second passed, and Gorgon didn’t say, Don’t you dare set that beast loose! So Alden unlatched the door to the carrier, and the tomcat rocketed out. He skidded across the freshly mopped terrazzo and pelted under a modern leather armchair near one of the windows.

The alien watched with apparent interest.

“Soooo…what were you going to do for the rest of the night?” Alden asked, standing up in his socks to look around the dimly lit lobby. “Anything I can help with?”

“I was planning to watch the monitors. And read a magazine someone left in the men’s restroom. And sanitize the buttons in the elevator.”

“All excellent things.” Alden frowned. “But I didn’t know you could go inside the elevators. I’ve never seen you leave the lobby.”

“I can use all of the building’s public areas. But my bindings do not allow living things to pass through them, so it becomes a tripping hazard if I leave the desk when the facility is crowded.”

“Makes sense. Let’s go ride the elevator up and down and eat junk food.”

“Why?” Gorgon asked.

Alden shrugged. “Why not? I promise not to trip.”

#

They wandered the building together, peering into classrooms and occasionally cleaning random things. Gorgon didn’t seem to have much of a method when it came to janitorial work. He just occasionally stopped and sprayed something with sanitizer or glass cleaner and wiped it off.

He did pay unusual attention to the windows, though.

That’s as close as he can get to outside, Alden realized.

“Chips and salsa?” he asked as they finally made it back down to the lobby. He dug into his grocery bag and passed a pack of blue corn chips and a jar with a jalapeño in sunglasses on it to Gorgon, who took both with a nod.

The lobby had a pretty nice vibe at night. The LEDs were sparkling on the ceiling. A lone cricket was chirping from a pot that held a fiddle-leaf fig tree. And Victor was prowling around one of the seating areas.

Gorgon beelined for the cat and chose the seat nearest it, watching the feline with what Alden guessed might be curiosity as he cracked the lid on the salsa jar.

The cat didn’t seem to mind the alien at all. That was a surprise. If Alden had taken a minute to think about it before he set off on this spontaneous adventure, he would have left Victor at home. It only seemed natural that an animal would be leery of a spiky creature from another dimension.

But Victor just sniffed Gorgon’s ankles and moved on. Alden crouched down toward the cat, and Victor raised his hackles.

“He has not forgiven you for confining him,” Gorgon said.

“Yeah, I know. He’s not used to the carrier.” Alden had only stuffed the half-feral cat into the thing once before, to take him to the vet.

He reached into his bag for a can of tuna. “Peace offering?” he asked, levering up the metal tab and peeling the top back. “It’s your favorite.”

Victor padded a step closer.

“See? He’s a pretty forgiving du—OW! Shit! Victor, you brat!”

The cat had lunged, quick as lightning, and delivered a combo attack of bites and scratches to Alden’s right hand so fast that he barely felt them before the furry villain streaked away to stand under Gorgon’s chair.

“What the heck, man?” Alden said in a wounded voice, looking down at his hand. There was a burning claw mark welling with red droplets and at least four puncture wounds bleeding freely. “I bought you the good tuna.”

He held the injured hand up, looking around the lobby as if he expected to find a first aid kit lying around.

A weird noise caught his attention, and he whipped back around to watch the cat in case it was planning another attack. But the odd repetitive hissing sound was coming from Gorgon. His body was shaking, thin gray arms wrapped around the chip bag.

For half a second, Alden thought the alien might be going into convulsions, and then he realized…

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes!” Gorgon said, between disturbing hisses of merriment. “It was obvious the cat would do that, but you did not know it!”

“Gorgon, I’m dripping blood on your floor. It’s not funny.” But he heard the amusement in his own voice. He’d never seen Gorgon laugh. It looked bizarre, but it was also a relief to know that the alien did have a sense of humor.

Gorgon continued to hiss with joy.

“Fine. You guys are too violent for me. I’m going to go wash my hand off in the bathroom.”

Drops of blood were running down his wrist now, staining the gray cuff of his sweatshirt. Victor doesn’t do half measures, I guess, Alden thought.

He cupped his other hand beneath the bitten one to catch any overflow and hurried toward the bathroom. When he got there, he reached for the handle of the sink, then froze.

A thought had crossed his mind, but…

It’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Not funny weird either. Creepy weird.

But maybe it would be less creepy now, when circumstance had given him the opportunity, than it would be at a later date when it would be more premeditated?

Alden turned and elbowed the bathroom door open. Gorgon’s hisses were still echoing across the lobby.

“Hey, Gorgon?” Alden called. “Um…don’t let this spoil the mood if it’s really off-base. And remember you promised not to be offended by stuff I offered you. Do you…want some of my blood? To eat?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Yeah…that sounded gross on multiple levels. Like I’m the dumb human in a bad teenage vampire movie.

Gorgon had stopped laughing. Was he offended? Alden couldn’t see him around the corner.

He didn’t say no.

Gorgon only rarely said yes or thank you when he was offered food he found acceptable. Usually, he just took it and ate it. Alden assumed the verbal confirmations were reserved for things he found particularly appealing. But he always said no out loud to reject the non-vegan stuff.

Except for the crickets. In that case, he’d said, “No, but leave them.”

“You’re not answering,” Alden called nervously. “What does that mean?”

Gorgon didn’t reply.

No means no. And nothing means he’ll eat it. Right? That’s how it’s always been before. Or maybe he can’t answer because it counts as a question about diet instead of an actual presentation of food, since I’m not where he can see me?

That made sense. One reason the what-can-Gorgon-eat experiment was taking so long was the fact that he had to be offered the actual food item before he could accept or reject it.