The inner city was a juxtaposition of protocol against cacophony. The people teeming the sidewalks streamlined in either direction, avoidant of each other as if worried for some plague caused by physical contact. Their order was sharply contrasted by the discordant voices of too many conversations fighting to be heard above the others, certain words more apparent due to anger and passion or phrases in languages Adele did not recognize. They served as proof that this world and its cultures were more removed from her own than originally realized.

There were two things she considered fortunate about her situation. One, she had met a boy who could take her so deep into the city that even her cotton tank-top and lack of body modification blended into the populace. Two, she had met a boy involved in such illicit activities that the government enforcers were more intrigued by a hard drive than in hunting her down.

Granted, the fact August let them escape so easily remained suspicious. She had displayed remarkable technology and used it offensively against them. What had Adair done that his computer system was deemed more dangerous than her?

Somehow she doubted he was about to tell her.

He held her hand as they wove through the rush, palms clammy but ever-present. She assumed he feared she might become lost in the crowd if he let go, since there was no other reason why he should hold on so tightly. They didn’t know each other. She didn’t even know why she followed him, aside from lack of an applicable excuse for why not.

She told herself this was no different from any other strange adventure into an unknown world, and this wild-eyed young man was nothing special. They never were.

✖

Much to Adele’s relief, they at last peeled from the flow of commuters and plunged into the security vestibule of an apartment complex. Adair slipped something like a credit card from his trousers, shoved it into a slot, and then pulled open the heavy metal door at the resounding beep. With a flourish, he allowed her to step through first. It could have been considered gentlemanly in other situations.

After their earlier freefall, she surprised herself with the little amount of inner coaxing it took to get into the elevator. It deposited them on the twenty-third floor, amidst vinyl potted plants and a corridor of scraped and dented doors set in scraped and dented walls. It looked like someone had driven a golf cart up and down the hall while very drunk. At the very end of the hallway, he knocked.

Then they waited. And waited.

When he lifted his hand to knock once again, the door opened wide enough for a pixie in the guise of a girl to slink out. If not for the curve of her hips, Adele might have thought the pixiegirl to be a young boy. She held herself like one, unaware of the swing girls had when walking, and close-cropped hair streaked with magenta.

“Shh!” The pixiegirl held a finger to her pierced lips, even though no one had said a word. “Sorry, can’t let you in. Magnus is working. You know how he gets when he has a new project.”

Adair either frowned or pouted, having lips suited well for both, and wrinkled his nose. “He’s always got a new project.”

“Maybe so, but I still can’t let you— Addie!” She snatched at the empty air where his arm had been a split-second before, banging her fingers on the doorframe in the process. A low hiss escaped her lips like a train releasing steam. “Damn it!”

Adair had gone inside, proving he had excellent reflexes for avoiding capture. This likely explained how he had survived so long.

Pixiegirl continued to wince, attempting to shake the pain out of her hand. “Adair didn’t mention bringing anyone along.”

“I only just met him,” Adele said.

“Only just met him?” The pixie stopped shaking her hand back and forth, all pain forgotten. “He doesn’t meet people. He’s not around them long enough to.”

“Well, he met me.” Adele tilted her head, a conversation beginning somewhere within the apartment. “It’s a long story.”

Pixiegirl shut the door. “I’ve got time. Who are you?”

“Not from around here.”

“Obviously. Are you a lowsider?”

“No.” Unless lowsider was jargon for ‘reality-hopper’ or ‘time-traveller’ — which Adele severely doubted.

“Then —”

The door swung inwards to reveal a cheerful and bouncy Adair. He took hold of Adele’s hand, tugging her into the apartment. “Come along! What are you doing out here in the corridor?”

Getting the third degree, Adele thought. She disengaged from Adair once within the dark space. There was no need for them to hold hands, even though she felt she could become lost in the gloom.

When her eyes adjusted, she realized they stood in a sizeable open-concept room lit only by the city beyond the windows. Neon lights painted greens and yellows and cyan across the tiled floor, a checkerboard pattern of white and black.

The furniture pieces were square or rectangular, even the sofa and armchairs to one end. At the other, a kitchen complete with bar and stools. In the middle, a long dining table divided the living and cooking areas. It had a tea set resting on its lacquered surface, near another young man no older than Adair and safely distanced from the laptop he stared intensely into.

Adele assumed — given there were no signs of anyone else in the room — that this was Magnus. Like his apartment, he was made of sharp angles and lines, face further contoured by the blue glow of the computer screen and the shadows of everything else.

“I’ll put on some more tea,” said Pixiegirl, sounding less irritated than expected, and she moved into the kitchen to turn the kettle on.

Adair settled across the table from Probably-Magnus, then decided better and shifted down a spot, then changed his mind and returned to his original position. He patted the vacant chair beside him. “Take a seat, Adele.”

She didn’t, stomach lined with ice. “Pardon me?”

He set his elbow on the table, chin on fist, and stared up at her with confusion in his wide, crazy eyes. “Hm? I asked you to sit.”

“You called me Adele.”

“You look like an Adele.”

“But that’s my name.” The expression on his face refused to change. Glory, he could be awfully thick for a hacking mastermind. “You just called me by my actual name, which I have not told you.”

“As I said.” Adair prodded the glowing logo on the back of Probably-Magnus’ laptop with his spare hand, still very much unconcerned. “You look like an Adele. Or an Alice.”

“Sometimes he just knows things,” said the boy who was probably Magnus. He swatted at Adair’s hand, still typing with his other. “As frustrating as it is, it’s also terribly useful.”

Pixiegirl arrived to claim the teapot. “Good old Addled Adair,” she said with some affection. “Where did you find her?”

“Right place at the wrong time.” His grin took over his face, all teeth. Before Adele could move away, he’d pulled her down onto the chair next to him. “Maybe I knew she’d arrive one day.”

When she swallowed, it felt like broken glass.

An awkward hush fell over the room, aside from the tinkering of Pixiegirl in the kitchen and the tapping of Probably-Magnus’ keys. Adair traced random things on the tabletop with a fingertip, spirals and equations and numbers being a few of the more distinguishable gestures.

Adele sat on her chair’s edge, fighting back nausea. This world had not shown evidence of psychic phenomena so far, but anything was possible. Even her home had people who knew more than humanly capable, even if preternatural abilities had never been proven.

Or Adair was more than he seemed for other reasons. Reasons beneficial to her and her objectives.

Wouldn’t that just be a kick in the —

“Tea’s ready.” Pixiegirl brought the teapot over, careful not to spill. “I suppose I should find a teacup for Adele.”

“Don’t tease, Danah,” said Probably-Magnus. He tilted his screen, shutting his laptop. “She’s company. Something we don’t have very often. No need to scare her off any more than Adair already has.”

“I’m very good at that.” Adair flashed Adele a smile, pouring them both cups of tea. “One of my many talents.”

“Indeed,” she muttered.

The smile vanished, as quick as the sun dropping behind a particularly dark cloud. “Did you want to go?”

“Maybe,” she said. When his frown deepened, guilt amended her decision. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t have to go, if you have room. It isn’t like I have anywhere else to be.”

And she was curious, but that wasn’t something she cared to tell.

“We have plenty of room,” said Probably-Magnus. “In which case, I suppose you’re staying.”

“Brilliant!” Merry again, Adair slid Adele’s cup closer, goading her into drinking. “Then we have time for a proper tea time!”

“We’re already drinking tea, Adair,” said Pixiegirl, apparently named Danah.

“Yes, but Magnus has his laptop in front of him and there are no jammy dodgers and there is no milk and it doesn’t feel like a proper tea time.”

Magnus, now verified as himself, slid his laptop along the tabletop until it sat at the next placement over. How he kept a straight face while doing this was beyond Adele, who gulped down an insistent snicker.

“Fine, Adair,” said Magnus, “laptop is put away. Happy now?”

“Can we have jammy dodgers?”

“I have no idea what those are.”

This time Adair was definitely pouting.

“Just drink your tea, Adair,” said Danah. “We aren’t wherever you’re from so it won’t be a proper tea time by your standards anyway.”

“Where are you from?” Adele asked.

“Nowhere special,” he said. “It’s gone now.”

“Most things are gone now.” Danah spoke not to reiterate what had been said, but to correct it, like he had made a horrible mistake.

Though she hadn’t seen beyond the city, Adele had guessed as much was true. That seemed to be the case in most worlds similar to this one; technology reached its grand apex, and civilization crumbled around it like humanity didn’t matter.

“That’s unfortunate,” she said around a sip of tea, hoping to drown her voice rather than be heard.

“Yeah,” said Magnus, “it is.”

Adair smacked a palm onto the tabletop, hard enough that the fluid in everyone’s teacups nearly upset. “Well!” he said, as if he hadn’t already gathered everyone’s attention. “No point in sitting about miserable. What have you been working on?”

“Trying to save the files you sent before you destroyed your hard drive,” said Danah. “Way to go, by the way.”

“August was on its way. I didn’t have time to back anything up.”

“Actually, August was following me,” said Adele. “I inadvertently led them straight to him. Sorry about that.”

Magnus smirked, eyes tilted and bearing uncanny resemblance to a tiger’s. So uncanny, she wondered if they might be surgically altered. “Don’t worry about it. They were after Adair.”

“No, they really were after me.”

“That was only a coincidence. The sole reason why they would be in that area would be to locate Adair.”

“August doesn’t just patrol the streets searching for lowsiders,” said Danah. “They don’t really care about the city, unless something is happening to upset their plans.”

“Ah, I see,” said Adele. “They’re that kind of government.”

Danah snorted. “How long have you been in the city?”

The tapping of Adele’s ring against her cup made for good distraction as she struggled to think of what to say. They might have guessed her name and made assumptions about her origin, but they could never imagine where she had come from.

“Just today,” she said, finally, “and I don’t plan on staying long.”

“Must you make everyone so uncomfortable?” Magnus reached over to ruffle Danah’s pixie haircut. “You’re like a cat playing with small animals before it kills them.”

“Aren’t I though?” she asked.

“I don’t think I like that metaphor,” said Adele.

“It was a simile,” said Adair, “and not a particularly apt one, either.”

“So, how long do we have before August catches up to us? Will they catch up with us? They must want Adair.”

When Magnus inclined his head in a nod, his eyes became dark, ringed with defeat. “They do, but I don’t know how long it will take them to find him again. It could be months or weeks, it could be days.”

“Or it could be hours,” said Adair.

And something in his voice set her teeth on edge.