Chapter 236: A Face Only Money Could Love

The auction photograph proved somebody had wanted Nessa’s truck before the robbery, and I’d spent the evening delivering it to them with bonus police lighting. I called Lyra at the casino in Twawi through the phone inside my body and sent the electronic form, letting her inspect the signature while I kept my scorched side clear of the bench.

Nessa confirmed by phone that she’d signed only for the apron and belongings taken from her cab. Lukas sent a photograph from outside the depot showing a yellow auction card on her windscreen, giving us two versions of the same theft and no original inventory slip to prove the switch.

[System: They’ve turned a food truck into a paperwork magic trick, mate; steal the first bit of paper and we can shove the second one somewhere the sun doesn’t invoice.]

Find me a name before I give Lukas a brick and start charging the depot for express delivery. Cherry joined the call from the casino office and supplied Renn’s name from the company record. One of their regulars had lost a van to the same business, so she offered to ask around while we worked out the next step.

Lyra enlarged the signature on her screen and pointed out that the disposal paragraph used different spacing from the inventory list. She sent both versions back to Nessa, then reminded me over the speaker that collecting burns was not the same thing as making friends before returning to the casino accounts.

Lukas returned to the stall with two invitations to Chrysalis Lounge, where he said Renn sometimes drank with people who owned more than they should. A regular had given him the tickets after a rescue involving a lift, although his explanation of why the lift needed rescuing changed halfway through.

The hostess took one look at the eight bottle caps he’d tied into a mask and asked whether we were delivering something. He paid for a replacement while I adjusted the narrow black mask held against my face by two smoke tendrils, quietly grateful that Cherry could only suggest adding a bow through a text.

Inside, glowing plants climbed the walls and glass booths hung above the main floor, making the whole place look designed for people who feared sharing air with cheaper customers. Entry required masks instead of names, but nobody seemed willing to hide the cost of their clothes.

"Try finding Renn before you turn this into a survey of which women enjoy men hanging from ceilings," I told Lukas. He promised to look around, then disappeared towards somebody waving from the dance floor with far too much interest in his own chances.

[System: Let him work, mate, because someone might tell him something between bad decisions. You find a warm spot and stop looking like a garden hose waiting for a tip.]

I’d be more convincing as a garden hose if this coffee hadn’t cost enough to suggest it came with a small lawn. The bartender gave me a shallow dish after watching me struggle with the narrow glass, which immediately put him ahead of most people I’d met that evening.

I settled beside a broad flowering plant on a heated ledge, where the view of the city came without anyone asking for another permit. A woman stopped beside me and pointed out that I was sitting on the plant’s favourite leaf, sounding more curious than annoyed.

She had pale blonde hair, a black velvet mask and four translucent wings that shifted between blue and lavender under the lights. Her dress left her shoulders bare, and I followed the edge of one wing a little further than necessary before remembering she had a face.

"I’ve moved enough to improve the plant’s evening, but I can’t promise anything about the quality of its conversation," I said. She laughed and placed her glass on the ledge, leaving enough room beside me to make sitting down a choice rather than an accident.

"The plant has been listening to a man offer a statue a board position, so I doubt you can disappoint it," she replied. Across the room, a sharply dressed guest was indeed arguing with something made of stone, which explained why his listener looked so calm.

I slipped a tendril behind the statue and raised its stone hand’s empty glass, causing the bloke to toast our new partnership. The fairy covered her laugh with her drink, then asked about my burned scales while he went to fetch his business card.

"Three electric idiots ruined my lunch, then a contractor stole the food truck we’d just saved, so I’m starting to think eating out needs a better warning label," I told her. Her attention sharpened at the mention of the contractor, and she brought up a video on her phone.

Lukas’s recording showed the tow driver quoting fees while I drifted into view looking much more threatening than I’d felt. A caption claimed the system feared the noodle, which caused Old Mate to make a disgusted noise that thankfully remained inside my head. I pictured the fat koala in his too-small singlet, clutching his beer as though the caption had personally threatened his drinking money.

[System: The system’s mostly embarrassed, but show her the company name; if she’s watching truck theft at a party, she’s either useful or bloody terrible at parties.]

"That’s my friend’s recording, although I haven’t approved his advertising department yet," I said. She smiled until a waiter approached and told her somebody was insisting on discussing her missing delivery, at which point her interest shifted towards the stairs.

A neat man in a silver mask waited beneath the glowing arch with a folder tucked under his arm. The waiter called him Mr Renn, and the fairy looked between his face and mine before asking how rude I thought she should be.

The fairy kept her phone beside her glass instead of putting it away, with the missing-delivery photograph still open. Whatever she wanted from him, she had come prepared to ask for it, and I was suddenly very interested in how this conversation ended.

Renn started towards us, then stopped when he noticed the red coils beside her. His hand tightened around the folder while the fairy pulled out a chair he clearly hadn’t expected me to occupy.