Michael moved in later that month.

“So there’s one bed.” He said as he stared at it. I wondered if he was speaking to himself by stating that obvious fact. He finally acknowledged my presence and said, “I believe in marriage, but not premarital… stuff.” He reddened at the last word.

“You have to be married before you sleep with me?” I asked as I crossed my arms in my oversized t-shirt and shorts for sleeping. He coughed/laughed and turned his eyes to my toes. I shrugged and took one of the pillows.

“Where are you going?” He asked finally as I walked out the beddoor.

“The couch,” I answered over my shoulder.

He rushed at me and grabbed my hand. Spinning around, I stared with unmasked confusion at his actions.

“We can sleep together.” He said. “But not, I don’t want to sleep with you before we’re both ready”

I tried to decode this strange emphasis. “Are we going to take turns sleeping?” I asked, feeling a light throbbing on my temple.

“No, no,” he chuckled. “I mean, we aren’t going to sleep… like the birds and the bees.”

“Oh,” I paused to try to understand this. “How do the bees and birds sleep?”

Finally, he collapsed with laughter. “You know what?” He said as he placed an arm around my waist.

“You want to move out?” I guessed.

“No, no. Not unless you want me to.” He stared into my eyes for a moment before I realized I had to answer. I shook my head. He smiled and placed a finger on my chin, “I was thinking we could uh…rest together.”

I agreed to the idea and we walked back to the bedroom. The arrangement lasted for a month without incident. After a month of not being able to find the free time to stretch my wings, I woke up to the dull ache in my back. I pulled myself out of Michael’s arms and replaced the space with a pillow. I walked into the closet and rummaged through the clothes. Finally, I found the outfit I had brought from my world. It had pants, and a front, which tied up like a halter-top. The back was open from my shoulders to the small of my back to allow my wings to emerge without becoming trapped in and then ripping the fabric.

I changed clothes, tied up my hair, and went to my balcony. Opening the doors, I felt my back itch with anticipation. I climbed the four-foot barrier to keep humans from falling to their deaths. Staring at the park’s darkness, I bit my lip in happiness. I plunged into the shadows. When I returned three hours later, I was exhausted. I landed on the balcony and retracted my wings.

I closed the door soundly. As I had made my way across the living room, a hand reached out and covered my mouth. An arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me against a body. I nearly bit the hand with my fangs, but stopped when I caught his scent.

“Michael?” I said into the hand.

“I was wondering where you went.” He said as he pressed his nose against the back of my neck. He dropped the hand around my mouth to my shoulder. “I’ve never seen your hair tied up before.” His hand went down my naked back. “Where did you get this piece from? I don’t think I’ve ever had the honor of seeing you in it.” His hand went over the mark of my wings. “Oh, a tattoo. I knew you couldn’t be that innocent.”

I mumbled something to argue that before releasing a scent from my body. While some creatures release smells to attract mates or claim their territory, I have the ability to put others to sleep and erase short term with my scent. That is in case I need to grab something that is on a particular person.

He dropped to the ground with a thump. I changed out of my clothes and dragged him back onto the bed. The next morning, he woke and told me of the strangest dream where he searched all over the suite for me, then I magically appeared in the dress of a stripper. I rolled my eyes at the last comment but was interrupted by the phone.

“Hello?” I answered as I swatted Michael’s hand from my back. He couldn’t discover the tattoo now; the dream was too fresh in his memory.

“Miss Wrede, it’s Alex at the front desk.”

“Hi Alex.” I said as I backed myself into a corner to avoid him. Michael settled with kissing my neck. Somehow I managed to continue without squeaking, “Is there a problem?”

“Not a serious one,” Alex said reassuringly. “There is a man here who says he knows you.” At this, I pushed Miachel away roughly. “He claims his name is Pie, like the pastry.” In the background, I could hear a voice shouting, “It isn’t a claim. That is my name.”

“You mean Pi, like the number.” I said curtly. “Will he tell you why he’s searching for me?” I asked. Michael dropped back onto the bed with a scowl.

“He says something about a Lying.”

“Lyng?” I offered.

“Yes, I guess that is right. He claims this Lyng wants to see you, but he is alone.”

“Send him up. Thank you.” I dropped the phone into its cradle. “Stay in the room.” I ran into the walk in closet, closed the door, and changed my clothes. “Someone is coming up to meet me.” I said after I reemerged.

“A ‘he.’” Michael said with a deep frown. I nodded without looking at him as I heard the footsteps in the hall.

I opened the door and watched in amazement as Pi arrived. He was missing most of his arms, leaving only two. His fine body hair made him look more like a hairy man rather than a hairy spider. Even the silver hair on his head was more grey than metallic. He placed his arms on his hips. “You didn’t tell me that Drifters are the only ones who are allowed to keep their appendages and abilities.”

I shrugged. “I thought it was common knowledge. How did you get here?”

“I miss my arms!” He whined, then regained his senses. “Another Drifter dropped me off.” He suddenly wrapped his arms around me. He whispered in my ear, “Lyng is fading.”

I trembled and collapsed into his arms. It felt much better without the other arms holding me in place. “I had my fun.” I said as I realized the truth in the words. “It is time to go back.”

“Wrede?” said a voice behind me. I spun out of Pi’s arms and turned to Michael. He had dressed, though his shirt wasn’t tucked in.

“Who’s he?” They asked in unison. “I asked you first.” They continued in unison.

“Pi, this is Michael, Michael, Pi. Like the number not the pastry.” I sighed as I took a step towards Michael. “I am leaving.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” He said as he stared daggers into Pi.

“It isn’t personal.” I touched his cheek to turn him back to me. “I have to go home.”

“This is your home!” Michael insisted.

“Wrede has lived with me for sixty three Earth years.” Pi quipped.

“Not with him.” I explained when I felt Michael’s cheek burn. “We were in the same area.”

“What do you mean Earth years?” Michael said as he swatted my hand away from his face.

“You didn’t tell him?” Pi asked as he stepped into the room and closed the door. I shook my head, keeping my eyes on Michael. His color drained.

“You’re not from Earth?” He whispered. I shook my head. He sneered. “Is this some kind of sick joke? If you want to leave me then do it without telling lies!”

“It’s true.” Pi came to my side. “Show him your wings.”

“You have wings?” Michael stumbled backwards. “Where are they, in your closet? Do you have green antennas and bug eyes? Is this your way of breaking up with your poor pathetic boyfriend? Just because I can’t give you whatever Pi the number can offer?”

I shook my head and tried not to blink or else I’d shed my tears. “It’s true.” I whispered.

Then Michael charged. Within a moment, his hands were on my arms and my feet were dangling. Pi shouted curses that came out wrong without his fangs and even the translation spell couldn’t get his message through. I dropped my head and crossed my forearms over my chest so my hands rested on my shoulders.

My wings exploded from my back, ripping the shirt in the process. It felt so good to extend myself again, to feel whole. It is like stretching one’s legs after sitting for hours. There was a pain, yes, but it was a delightful, satisfying pain.

Michael dropped me almost immediately. I sat on my heels, looking up at him, and then I could no longer watch his face contort in fear and disgust. I dropped my head to the floor.

“Those are fake!” He cried and put his hand on one of them. Thorns erupted and pierced his hand. He shouted as his red lifeblood dripped onto the floor. Wings have their own survival mechanisms; if it detects hostility in a touch, it will arm itself.

I stood, my head still bowed, my arms still trying to hold the remnants of my clothes together. “They are real.” I said confidently. “They allow me to travel through all dimensions.”

There was a moment of silence before Michael’s hands touched my shoulders. One was still bleeding. I felt the blood drip down my arm. It was warm, and cooling.

“Take me back in time, then.” Michael said with the commanding voice I had heard once before, when he ordered the woman to search me. I looked up at him in shock. He ordered again, “Make me rich.”

Then my image of a simple man who wanted nothing more than to please everyone, who spoke in riddles, shattered.

“Pi, hold your breath.” The forgetting fume removed Michael’s memories of Pi’s arrival. All he would know was that he woke up late and I wasn’t there. He dropped like a sack.

“What’s that in his pocket?” Pi asked as he noticed a small square bulge. He retrieved it before I could stop him. It was a box, marked ‘Tiffany’s.’ I knew what was inside before Pi snapped it open. It was a simple platinum band with a solitaire diamond. I scoffed in spite of myself.

“Let’s go home, Pi. Leave that here.” He placed it back into Michael’s pocket. I went to my closet to change clothes.

After making arrangements for Michael to have the suite for the rest of his life, as well as some surplus money for his spending pleasure, Pi and I returned home.

We walked into a remote part of the park in silence. I took off my sweater that hid my ‘stripper dress’. After a last glance, I unraveled my wings and swung one wing, letting the tip scrape across the fabric of time and space. With one hand on Pi, I jumped through.

We landed outside his home. Before he could regain his senses, I ran into his home. It was crowded with his family. Seeing me, they parted. I bowed my head meekly, folded my wings against my body and followed the path to Lyng.

She was sitting upright with her wings spread across the couch. Her feet had already faded, leading up to her knees. Smiling, she held her arms out to me. I collapsed onto one side of her and clasped her hands.

“Have you lived?” She asked as she patted my cheek. I nodded. “And loved?” I paused for a moment, then shook my head. How could you love someone who saw you for anything other than your true self?

“Had fun?” I nodded, remembering the ice cream and the places I went.

“Two out of three isn’t bad.” Lyng’s eyes passed over my wings, still stained with blood. “That isn’t Pi’s.” She remarked, but asked no questions and said nothing more.

Five days later, she faded from the world. We had a small ceremony, with incense burning, and storytelling. I spoke as an apprentice, speaking more than nonfamily members, though I excluded her challenge to me. We burned her wings, the only things left after her fading. I watched with blurred eyes at the spiraling smoke as it took to the winds.

Two days later, after reestablishing my dwelling and connections, I was back to work. As I struggled to fit a messenger bag’s strap around my wings, Pi appeared. “Little help,” I called out as my arms were suddenly weak from struggling with it for several minutes. He spun some thread over my rafters, brought them down to attach to my strap, then used a pulley system, much like a puppeteer, to place it on me. I saluted my thanks and was about to step out the door when Pi pulled on the strands.

“I don’t get a kiss for my good deed?” He grinned with his fangs. All his arms and other features returned as soon as we landed at home.

“Uh, no,” I cut the strands with the tips of my wings.

He huffed and followed me. “What about bringing back some Earth ice cream? The moons are dancing tonight, all fifteen of them. We can watch it together.”

“Different pints, different spoons.” I said as I flapped my wings. When I saw how quickly he was nodding, I added, “And we’re not feeding each other.”

He pouted, then shrugged, possibly realizing this was the best offer he could get.

“What flavor you want?” I said as I took out my list.

“They have any with blood or insects?”

“I’m sure I can find some with insects.”

Before I went to pick up the ice cream, I landed in a cemetery many years into the future of when I had served out Lyng’s challenge. I stood in the shadows of a great mausoleum. On the edifice was Michael’s name and his dates. Beside it was that of his wife. I passed my fingers over her name. I couldn’t stop the feeling that I heard the name Rockefeller somewhere before.

The End