Likig
By Chibi Hime
He liked to pull his fingers through her hair. It was like a silky waterfall. A white, silky waterfall. Right now, there wasn't anything he wanted to do more than drag his thin fingers through her long hair. Mike reached over in the bed and found her spot empty. He ran it up and down and opened his eyes when he found it was cold.
She was gone.
Mike frowned.
He wasn't worried. She came and went as she pleased, but always came back. It was odd. He'd never asked her to stay and she'd never asked if she could. Neither one of them were very good at communication. They weren't "people" people. It didn't usually matter.
The cell phone on the nightstand buzzed loudly. Mike turned over and watched it ring. It was a secure wireless signal. Only five people knew this number. He reached over and picked it up. The screen read "Blocked." That narrowed the five down to two. With a groan, Mike reached over and picked it up.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Likig," came the response from the other line.
Mike's face screwed into a scowl. Only one person used that term. It was quite possibly the person he had the least interest in talking to.
"Good Morning, Alessa," he said.
"It is afternoon, Likig," the female voice spat at him, disdain dripping off of every syllable.
He didn't respond. There wasn't any point.
"Listen closely, Likig. I'm sure even you are aware of what day tomorrow is,"
"Yes," he answered.
"There is an envelope taped to your door. It contains a severance package. Make it last,"
"Compassion? From you? I think you've been feeding off of humans too long, it is starting to show,"
There was a snarl and a long barrage of alien obscenities from the other end of the connection. He held the phone away from his ear. No need to put up with her more than necessary.
There was a click from the other end and the noise stopped. Mike frowned and put the phone back down. He heard the door open and close. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. The timing was just too convenient. He slid quietly out of bed, glad that he had fallen asleep with his pants on. He pulled on a shirt that was left on the floor and eased out of the bedroom.
There was a loud rustling of plastic bags from his makeshift kitchen. He peered around the corner to find Charmcaster unpacking grocery bags. Mike smiled. There was something amusing about her not needing a key to get in. He'd never given her one because there wasn't a point. She could open any door and he had never told her she wasn't welcome.
She sensed his movement and looked in his direction.
"Hey, What's with the commando sneaking routine? Who else would be here?" she said smiling.
Mike shook it off.
"No one,"
"Hey, who is 'Likig'?" she asked, holding up an envelope.
Mike's blood ran cold.
"That's what mother calls me lately. Where did you get that?"
"It was taped to the door when I came home," she answered.
He snatched it out of her hand and tore it open. A check fluttered to the floor, as did a letter of formal legal disownment. That's what it was. Underneath all the flowery wording, it was a "you aren't my son anymore" letter. He picked them both up and looked at them briefly before shoving them into his pockets. The check was sizable, a few million, he could make that last.
"What was that?" Charmcaster asked.
"A birthday greeting from my mother," he said, unenthusiastically.
Charmcaster's eyes lit up.
"Awww, that's sweet," she commented.
Mike only nodded. Charmcaster felt a dark energy exude from him.
"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing,"
"Don't you know that saying 'nothing' in this situation makes me want to know what was in that?"
"Have a look," he mumbled, tossing her the letter.
The witch's face turned questioning. While she got the gist, she couldn't make sense of half of the letter as it was written in broken English and some unfamiliar alien tongue.
"Michael, what does 'likig' mean?" she asked.
"Please don't say it out loud," he asked.
"Sorry. That bad, huh?" she asked.
Mike paused. How did one explain an alien slur, much less one in a dialect that was virtually unknown?
"It is a slur," he answered.
"For what?" she asked.
"Offspring," he stated.
"Come on. That's not a slur. What does it really mean?" Charmcaster questioned, nudging him playfully.
"Miscarriage," he answered.
Charmcaster's face paled.
"What?" she asked, disbelieving. She had thought it was an alien pet name.
"It means: disappointing, miscarriage, abortion, offspring, all depending on how it is used," he explained.
"No. No, no, no!" she stated. It was like she was arguing with someone who wasn't there.
"Look, she can think whatever she wants, I don't care," Mike mumbled.
"But it is not true!" Charmcaster insisted.
It made Mike freeze up.
He wasn't a people person. He wasn't used to anyone standing up for him. He didn't know how to respond to that. Half of him didn't deal with that kind of emotion and the other half had never been taught how. One half of his mind saw her argument, it was a cruel word. The other half sided with Alessa. He was a disappointment, a tainted, foul thing. Both were right and he found himself unable to choose a side rationally. Human emotions were more potent in his corrupted state and they pulled him to do out of character things that he didn't understand.
"Michael, she's wrong. Don't listen to her,"
"I don't" he scoffed.
He did. A part of him did. That simpering, lesser half of his wanted to throw his arms around the witch and ask her what she thought of him because she was the one he really cared about. His other, better, more reasonable half wanted to burn the letter.
That half won. He was more familiar with it. He plucked the letter out of Charmcaster's hands and took it over to the sink. He pulled open a drawer and took out a box of matches.
He felt the witch wrap her arms around his waist. His other half was elated.
He felt her press her face against his back.
"I don't think that. I want to stay,"
She wasn't a people person either. Her words were clumsy, but at least she said them. Unlike someone else in the room. He wouldn't mention any names.
"I know," he answered.
His other half scratched at his brain as the letter in the sink crumpled and darkened from the small flames. Now or never. He'd ruin everything if he didn't listen to his human side.
"I want you to," he admitted.
He could have sworn she squeezed the remaining life out of him after he said it.