Chapter 2: The Restroom Farewell
The restroom's bioluminescent tiles pulsed in slow, rhythmic waves, as if the room itself were breathing. The holographic mirror flickered, and for just a moment, Katrina could have sworn she saw a reflection that wasn't hers—a figure in a charcoal gray suit, sunglasses glinting, before it vanished into static.
Mike's hand was warm on her lower back as he guided her through the door. The lock clicked with a satisfying finality.
"Figured we'd have a minute before Calista finishes with the check-in," Casey said, already pressing close to Katrina, her hands sliding up the dancer's arms. "Didn't want to leave without a proper goodbye."
"Proper goodbye," Katrina repeated, her voice catching. Thirty years in a void, and somehow, she still wasn't used to being wanted.
Casey's mouth found hers, soft and insistent, tasting faintly of orange juice and bacon grease. There was something grounding about the way Casey kissed her—not with the fierce, hungry passion of Calista, but with a familiarity that felt like comfort. Like a blanket that had been worn soft over years of use.
Katrina's hands found Casey's hips, pulling her closer. Their breasts pressed together, separated only by thin layers of cotton and the subtle heat of skin. Casey groaned against her mouth, and Katrina felt herself responding, her body remembering what it had learned in the months since her rescue.
"Want you two to remember this," Casey murmured between kisses. "Want you to remember exactly what you're coming home to."
Mike's hands found Katrina's waist, lifting her onto the counter with surprising ease. Her ass hit the cold porcelain, making her gasp. Casey laughed, a low, throaty sound, and moved between Katrina's legs, her fingers working the buttons of her jeans.
"I figured," Mike said, already unbuckling his belt, his voice strained with the same hunger that had been building since the kitchen, "we'd give you something to miss."
Katrina's jeans came off—peeled down her legs with a practiced efficiency that made her wonder how many times Casey had done this. Her underwear followed, tossed aside without ceremony. She lay there, bare from the waist down, watching as Mike's cock sprang free from his pants.
He was thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Katrina's mouth watered.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Come here."
Mike stepped between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wider. His cock pressed against her entrance, not entering, just teasing. The sensation sent sparks up her spine.
"Please," she whispered.
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. Please." She was begging now, and she didn't care. "I need you inside me."
Casey's fingers found Katrina's clit, rubbing in tight circles. "Give her what she wants, Mike."
He didn't need more encouragement. He slid home in one smooth motion, his thick shaft filling her completely. Katrina cried out, her head falling back against the mirror—which flickered, someone else's face briefly visible before vanishing into static.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Mike grunted, his hips already moving, driving into her with a rhythm that was almost punishing.
"Yes, fill me, use me," Katrina gasped, her nails digging into the porcelain edge of the sink. "Don't stop."
Casey's fingers kept working her clit, fast and insistent, keeping pace with Mike's thrusts. The triple sensation—his cock stretching her, Casey's clever fingers, the cold counter against her ass—was overwhelming. She felt like she was being pulled apart, like she was coming undone in the best possible way.
"That's it," Casey breathed, her face close to Katrina's, watching the way Mike's cock disappeared into her again and again. "Take it all, honey."
Mike leaned forward, his mouth finding Katrina's, swallowing her moans as he fucked her harder. His belly pressed against her, warm and solid, a reminder of the years he'd lived, the softness that came from a happy life. She loved it—loved that he wasn't some sculpted god, that he was a man who'd lived and loved and was still capable of making her feel like this.
"Right there," Katrina gasped, pulling her mouth away, "right there, don't stop—"
Casey's fingers moved faster, pressing harder, and the pressure built until it was unbearable. Katrina shattered with a scream, her body convulsing, her juices coating Mike's cock as she came. He kept fucking her through it, riding out her waves of pleasure until she collapsed, panting, against the mirror.
He pulled out, and she saw it—his cock slick with her, glistening in the bioluminescent light. Casey dropped to her knees without hesitation, taking him into her mouth, tasting Katrina's sweetness.
The sight made Katrina's spent body stir with renewed interest. She slid off the counter, her legs trembling, and knelt beside Casey.
"Share," she said, her voice rough.
Casey pulled off just enough to wince, grinning at Katrina. "Always have been good at sharing."
Their tongues tangled around Mike's cock—Casey's on one side, Katrina's on the other, lapping and sucking in tandem. He groaned, his fingers threading through both their hair, not directing, just savoring.
"Christ," he breathed. "Would you two stop—no, don't stop, that's—"
Katrina took him deep, all the way to the back of her throat, while Casey's tongue worked the shaft. When she pulled off, gasping, Casey took her place, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him with a practiced skill.
"I'm going to come," Mike warned, his voice strained.
"Good," Casey said, pulling off just long enough to speak. "Where do you want it?"
"Your—" he started, but Katrina cut him off."Mouth. Both of us.Now."
They dove back together, their mouths meeting around his cock, their tongues tangling as they shared him. He came with a groan that echoed off the tiles, hot and thick and endless, spilling between their lips. Katrina swallowed, tasting both him and Casey, the mingled flavors of salt and musk and desire.
When he finally pulled back, they both sat on the wet floor, panting, exchanging a look that was equal parts satisfaction and exhaustion.
"We should probably get back," Mike said, tucking himself back into his jeans.
Casey wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning."Probably."
A knock came at the door—three quick raps.
"Coast is clear," Calista's voice called through the cheap wood. "But we need to move, and I don't know how much longer I can hold off the kinetic energy of that terminal."
The air traffic control supervisor might have been a construction of the Golden Wands' subtle glamour, a magical compulsion that made people want to cooperate, but thirty years in a void had made Katrina itch for space. She pulled on her underwear, her jeans, her boots, her hands still trembling slightly.
Casey was quicker, already smoothing down her shirt and checking her reflection in the flickering mirror. She paused, squinting at something in the static.
"You okay?" Katrina asked.
"Just—thought I saw something for a second." Casey shook her head, stepping away from the mirror."Nothing. Just a glitch."
Mike opened the door, and Calista was there—silver hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, golden eyes taking in the scene with an amused glint. Her gaze lingered on Katrina's flushed cheeks, the way her chest was still rising and falling.
"You good?" Calista asked, her voice soft.
"Better than good," Katrina replied, and meant it.
They made their way through the terminal, past the flashing departure boards, past the security checkpoints, past the lines of travelers—each one deep in their own little world, oblivious to the three people who had just had a goodbye fuck in the family restroom. Katrina felt a bubble of laughter building in her chest and let it out, unable to contain it.
Casey looked at her, then started giggling too. Mike just shook his head, a fond smile on his face.
"You're all crazy, you know that?" he said.
"Crazy is our default setting," Calista shot back, slinging an arm around Katrina's shoulders. "Embrace it."
They made it to the security checkpoint with fifteen minutes to spare, the boarding call already glowing on the overhead display. Calista passed her boarding pass to the TSA agent with a smile that made the woman blink twice, shake her head, and wave them through without a second glance. Elf glamour worked wonders, even in the sterile bowels of an airport.
Mike pulled Calista into a hug so tight she squeaked. "You take care of our girl, you hear? And don't let her brood too much."
"I'm right here," Katrina said, but her throat was thick.
Casey wrapped her arms around Katrina next, pressing a kiss to her temple. The scent of her shampoo—something floral and familiar—clung to Katrina's senses as she held on maybe a second too long. "You call us if you need anything. Anything at all. We're one phone call away."
"I know." Katrina pulled back, forcing a smile."Thanks for everything. For the send-off. For the rest."
Casey blinked, and for a moment, her eyes were bright with tears she didn't let fall. "You're family, honey. That's what family does."
Mike was shaking his head, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. "This family does things a little differently than most." He cleared his throat, looking at the security line behind them. "But it's not going anywhere without you.Remember that."
Calista grabbed Katrina's hand, interlocking their fingers. It was a grounding gesture, concise and firm. "We should go."
They passed through the metal detectors without incident, their belongings sliding through the X-ray machine with the same disinterested efficiency as everyone else's. On the other side, they looked back.
Mike and Casey stood together, watching. Casey's hand was raised in a small wave, her smile a little tremulous. Mike had his arm around her shoulders, steady and solid. The two of them looked so normal, so completely unremarkable, that it was almost impossible to believe what they'd lived through together.
Katrina raised her free hand, returning the wave. Then she turned away, and they were gone.
The terminal corridor stretched ahead, filled with the rustle of rolling suitcases and the low murmur of departing travelers. Faint announcements crackled overhead. Calista's thumb traced circles on Katrina's palm.
"You okay?" Calista asked.
"Not sure yet. Ask me in an hour."
"Fair enough." Calista squeezed her hand tighter. "We'll get there."
They found their gate, found their seats, and settled in for the flight. Katrina strapped herself in mechanically, her mind still half in that restroom, half in the kitchen, half in the void somewhere between worlds. She couldn't quite find the present moment.
Calista nudged her. "You're going to re-read that safety card to death if you keep staring at it."
Katrina blinked."Sorry. Zoned out."
"Thirty years in a void gives you permission to zone out whenever you want." Calista's voice was soft, not patronizing. "But I'm here if you need to talk."
Katrina was about to respond when something caught her eye—a woman in the terminal, just visible through the window of the boarding bridge. Dark hair pulled back in a severe bun.Sharp cheekbones. A charcoal-gray suit that looked expensive, cut like something a corporate exec might wear.
The woman walked past the gate, past the window, and was gone.
"—you listening?"
Katrina blinked, refocusing on Calista. "Yeah.Sorry. Thought I saw someone."
"Aemelia?"
"No. Just a stranger." Katrina shook her head, trying to dislodge the uneasy feeling coating her thoughts. "Probably just shadow-watching. I do that sometimes."
"The void leaves its fingerprints on people."
"Did it leave any on you?"
Calista smiled, a hint of something darker flickering in her golden eyes. "Different kind of fingerprint, I think. I'm the daughter of the woman who did this to you. That's a scar I'll carry my whole life."
Katrina took Calista's hand, guided it to her lap, held it between both of her own. "You're not her. You never have been."
"I know. Most days I can feel it, too."Bad days?"
"And I generally text you about them."
"I'm going to be right there to get the texts in person now, then."
They let the conversation drift, the plane eventually filling with passengers, the cabin pressurizing with a low hum that had become the soundtrack of a hundred thousand lives. Katrina leaned her head against the window as the tarmac slid past, the world tilting.
The plane lifted off, and Chicago's gridded streets flattened into the distance, becoming a map, then a memory. Katrina watched it happen, feeling the slight weight of the turn in her stomach.
"To Miami," Calista said, raising her water bottle like a toast.
Katrina raised her own, their plastic edges tapping together with a hollow click. "To whatever comes next."
A few rows behind them, Evelyn Shaw watched the silver-haired half-elf and her dark-haired companion with an interest that was almost clinical.
She'd been watching for a while now, careful to stay in the shadow of the terminal's architecture. Long enough to see the family say their goodbyes. Long enough to see that the girl wasn't as sure of herself as she pretended to be. Long enough to know that this was the one. The one from the void who'd been pulled into the Williamson orbit like a moth to flame.
Mandy Williamson and her blonde friend had cost Evelyn twenty years of planning. They'd ruined a scheme she'd spent two decades building, a plot to use a mummy, a long-dead priestess, and channel her power into a new purpose—one Evelyn would control from the shadows. The mummy had escaped. The god Anubis had appeared. All because two girls with more bravado than brains had stumbled into a dungeon they had no business being in.
But Evelyn couldn't touch the mummy. Couldn't even look at her, truth be told, without feeling the cold weight of an ancient judgment that made her skin crawl, Anubis clearly protecting that undead thing that looked like a normal young woman.
She could, however, touch this one. This Katrina Harlow, who had just left the safety of the Horny House, the protective presence of Mike and Casey Williamson, the formidable power of Jan O'Connor and Fatima Abaza. The girl was entering a city without her usual protection.
Miami was a place Evelyn knew well. She'd maintained a network of contacts there for years, decades even, waiting for the moment they'd become useful. Not to mention the fact that she still had access to financial accounts the Aurors and the gods and everyone in between had never managed to seize.
Katrina didn't know her. Calista wouldn't recognize her. Mike and Casey, powerful as they were in the strange gravity of their own luck, weren't there.
Evelyn settled back in her seat, a small, private smile playing at the corners of her lips. It wasn't revenge, not yet. But anticipation was a dish best served with patience, and patience was something Evelyn had perfected in forty years of careful waiting.
By the time Katrina and Calista reached Miami, Evelyn would have a plan. And plans always came with a price. The girl who had been trapped in a void for three decades was about to learn that freedom came with its own dangers.
The plane banked, and Miami sprawled below, a glittering chain of beaches and skyline and possibility. Somewhere in the lights of the city, a blonde girl was stacking fresh towels in a guest room, and a silver-eyed woman was about to arrive into a storm she couldn't see coming.
Three thousand miles away, in the house they'd left behind, Casey found a stray hairpin on the bathroom counter and smiled. She tucked it into her pocket, a small memento of the morning's chaos.
The future was coming, whether they were ready for it or not. But then, it always did.