The Chronicles of a Public Bus (part 2.10)

Friday, 13:45, off-route

From inside the bus, Drake watches Divinity race across the snow-covered parking. The falling snow dulls the usual eye-catching red of the apartment buildings’ brick exterior, so her mass of black curls makes her stand out even more than usual.

A moment later, Divinity bounds onto the bus, grinning. She has ditched her backpack and sports jacket, trading them for a purse and dark green peacoat. When she pulls her hands out of her pockets, she reveals two pairs of hand-warmers.

“Here,” she says to Drake, shoving a polka-dot hand-warmer into his hands, “you can have one of Willow’s. I’ll share my set with what’s-his-name.”

“Um, thanks but I don’t—hey!” Drake reaches out with his free hand to catch Divinity by the collar. “Can’t you read the atmosphere? Those two are waiting for an officer to take them to the police station. Don’t go bothering them right now.”

Rolling her eyes, Divinity pinches the skin on Drake’s wrist and flicks his hand away. “I know how to read an atmosphere. How else would I be so efficient at ruining moods? Now let me go talk them into letting me come along. I want to see how this is done.”

As she flounces away, Drake rubs his wrist and trudges after. He joins the group just as Divinity finishes pushing hand-warmers into Willow and Martin’s faces, making both splutter in surprise. Immediately, Martin scowls and Willow flushes pink in appreciation.

“Ooh, thank you!” she gushes. “I needed this. The cold is making me dizzy.”

“Are you sure it’s not the blood loss?” Divinity asks. “You’re looking more pink and less red.”

Martin’s scowl fades into a cringe, and Drake decides he ought to step in. He taps a light punch to Divinity’s shoulder and shakes his head. “Avoid talking about that, please,” he whispers. “You sound insensitive.”

Divinity only rolls her eyes again. “Kid’s going to have to live with this for the rest of his life,” she mutters. “He might as well get over it now.”

“I’m right here,” Martin says. He glowers at Divinity, and she actually backs away. Whether she is intimidated by the glare or the height difference, Drake cannot tell.

Willow lets out a nervous titter and knits her fingers together. Looking down at the ground, she murmurs something and twiddles her thumbs.

“What was that again?” Martin asks.

“Oh! Um, well, I just thought Divinity was sort of right.” Willow’s entire face turns pink, from the edge of her neck to the tips of her ears. “You will have to face this someday. Biting me instead of a random stranger will probably even be beneficial in the long run. You can go through the adjustment process without being scared that I won’t honor your anonymity rights or feel guilty about harming someone and never getting a chance to say sorry or, um, a lot of other things.”

Martin scrunches his face in a way Drake can’t read but relents with a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose,” he grunts.

Silence stretches into the conversation as everyone thinks on what to say. For once, Divinity keeps her mouth shut, but the smug grin she dons isn’t much better. Drake almost glares at her, annoyed that Willow took Divinity’s side instead of his.

Before the quiet can reach awkward levels, a pattering of thick rubber soles on the bus floor echoes through the empty air. The bus driver, followed by a redheaded woman in a bizarre mix of fashions, walks towards the kids, his face schooled into pensive neutrality. Martin raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Mellie? Why are you here? Where’s my dad?”

The woman bites her lip and fingers the hilt of the sword at her hip. “The higher-ups didn’t want your dad to come pick you up,” she says. “Sorry, kiddo, but it’s part of the rules on powerful folk.”

Martin deflates, and his height exaggerates the motion.

“Cheer up,” the woman says. “He’ll still be there to help you with your paperwork, and I promise he’s not mad at you.” Offering a sympathetic smile, she claps Martin’s shoulder and turns to the rest of the kids. “Well then, I’m Powerful Folk Officer Melody Brimston. Which of you kids was the first bite?”

Willow peeks out from behind Divinity and Drake and raises her hand. “That would be me,” she squeaks.

With a cross between a sigh and a laugh, Officer Brimston gestures for Willow to step forward. The two depart from the group for a private conversation while the bus driver tries to explain what will happen next, but as soon as Drake notices Divinity lean towards the other ladies to eavesdrop, all he can think about is what will happen to Willow. Seconds later, he is leaning over to eavesdrop as well.

“That’s not the official classification of your powerful folk half, is it?” Officer Brimston asks. “I’ve never seen ‘rabbit-like moon spirit’ in the database. I’ve never even heard a legend about it.”

“We might be listed under a generalization of East Asian spirits,” Willow says. Her voice is soft and quivery, but Drake can almost hear an undertone of venom.

Officer Brimston groans, and her chainmail dress clinks. “And the old no-one-can-tell-Asians-apart deal resurfaces. No worries, you’re probably already in the database. We can just look up the official classification at the station. Is it possible to call your parents to help with the paperwork?”

“My dad is at his office. Should I call, or do you have to do that?”

“Go for it, kiddo,” says Officer Brimston. She flicks her hair from her face and pats Willow’s head. “I’ll go talk with Martin next, and you brief your parents.”

As the officer heads towards Martin, Divinity pretends to examine her nails. She exudes flippant disregard, as though vampires biting her best friend is a totally normal occurrence. Once she decides that Officer Brimston’s back is turned, however, Divinity pushes Drake toward Willow and tiptoes closer to her new conversation of interest.

Drake almost trips. “Divinity, what are you-

With ninja reflexes, Divinity whips her head around and brings her index finger to her lips. She curls her mouth into a snarl, though it is meant to be a silent shushing noise, and creeps towards Martin and the officer once again.

“The only day you could have possibly been turned was Tuesday, Martin,” says Officer Brimston.

The lack of context makes Divinity wrinkle her nose.

“I know that,” Martin replies, “but I swear Willow was the first. I didn’t even realize anything was wrong until yesterday, and I couldn’t bring myself to accept it until she knocked out all four canines in dodgeball.”

“That tiny girl nailed you so hard she knocked out your teeth?” Officer Brimston whistles low and long. “Impressive. Still, it takes a minute max to turn, and you managed to go three whole days before first bite. That doesn’t happen, Martin. You must have gotten someone before this.”

Martin’s eyes widen, and his brow dips in astonished disbelief. “What? No! The only people I could have bitten a minute after I got off the bus are the old folks on my street. They’d be in the hospital right now if I did that.”

“There are other people in your neighborhood.”

“They would have reported me breaking in! Now can you please stop questioning me in front of my friends and take me to the police station?” If Martin’s curly black hair could bristle, it would. His glistening teeth and towering frame, made bigger by a down sports jacket, send shivers racing down Divinity’s spine. Both of his hands ball into fists, and when he inhales, he looks like a pro wrestler about to pummel someone into the ground.

Officer Brimston starts, and her armor clangs in a series of cacophonic chords. “Whoa, there, Martin,” she says. “Calm down, will you? I promise I’m not accusing you of anything yet.” She raises her hands in a standard placating gesture and backs into Divinity. “Oh! Sorry about that.”

After a moment of feigned surprise, Divinity purses her lips in a scholarly frown and cups her chin. “Pardon me for listening in,” she begins, “but I think I may have the information to prove Martin’s innocence.”