The rendezvous spots chosen by Minuet were always the most random places.
The locations varied, they shifted from a fight club to a charity event, a book signing, and ultimately, a volcano meeting.
Now it was the District Twelve Lenovia Zoo.
Salmon wasn't really a big fan of zoos. On the contrary, he found the idea quite odd.
At some point during the dawn of mankind, one of their predecessors caught an animal just to admire it, not to eat it or protect themselves, but merely out of pure fascination. From the moment humans started caging animals, they have watched them decline and perish in solitude. It was even more insane to him that going to the zoo was a family outing, and while that wasn't the worst, parents would bring their kids to gawk at dying animals.
Maybe there was a point to it all, or maybe there was a glamour to it that missed Salmon by a long shot.
When Salmon arrived unceremoniously and reluctantly at the zoo, it smelled of damp earth, popcorn, and whatever ungodly thing the elephants had eaten for breakfast. People milled around with sticky hands and loud voices, kids pointing at enclosures like they'd discovered life's greatest mysteries.
Salmon adjusted the collar of his long coat, silver hair catching the sunlight like metal threads. He blended in and stood out at the same time — too handsome for anyone to look at for long, but too strange for anyone to approach.
A line of primary students in grey and white uniform walked in a straight bee-line, an older woman in front held her clipboard to her chest and her sharp eyes looked them over like a general watching her snot-nosed rowdy soldiers off to a war.
Nearby a couple linked arms as they walked by a new family with a stroller and dreams in their bright eyes.
It didn't take him long to spot his handler, Minuet.
The older man stuck out like a sore thumb under the heated sun and busy walkway. He sat on a bench near the primate section, stubby legs swinging because they didn't quite reach the ground. Bald head glowing like he polished it on purpose. A melting ice cream in one hand, a folder full of confidential chaos balanced on his lap.
Minuet looked up. "You're late."
"You told me to meet you," Salmon said eyeing his surrounding with great disdain, "at a zoo."
"Yes. Because it's a public place. Crowds. Noise. Screaming children. My favorite camouflage."
Salmon made a face. "You're impossible."
"You're dramatic," Minuet countered with a shrug.
They started walking down the pathway together, shoulder to shoulder, Minuet licking his melting ice cream like he had nowhere better to be. Salmon's strides were long and fluid, hands in his pockets, blue eyes sweeping casually over everything — but catching every detail.
And then a scream shot through the air.
They both turned.
A girl — white sneakers too big for her foot, wild short hair flying — vaulted straight over the railing of the ape enclosure.
Salmon raised an eyebrow. "Huh."
A boy followed her almost immediately, jumping in like panic alone had launched him.
The crowd gasped, phones flew up instantly, kids shrieked, and parents yelled for security.
"That's something you don't see everyday." Minuet chirped nonchalantly.
Salmon watched for a beat longer than Minuet. Not out of concern — just curiosity.
The line of students screamed, some crying while others frozen in sheer terror as the bloodbath ensued. Their guardian or teacher ushered them away, trying her best to soothe them all as the family with the stroller quickly rushed away.
"That ape's going to throw her," Salmon observed casually from behind the horrified crowd.
"Already has," Minuet replied without looking. "Come along. Death is so theatrical here."
Salmon followed, though he gave one last lingering glance over his shoulder.
Minuet cleared his throat as they reached the quieter path near the aviary. "Now. Report. The essence of Twelve?"
Salmon's expression shifted into that calm, professional neutrality he wore like armor. "Contained. Stabilized. Ren is her name."
"Ahh you're still gathering their given names, I see."
"Just observing." Salmon muttered quietly.
He kicked a rock and watched it skid down the sidewalk as a group of paramedics rush by them with a stretcher.
Minuet nodded, satisfied, before taking another messy bite of ice cream.
They continued strolling. Families rushed around them in discord and fear. Animals chattered noisily.
Salmon's hair gleamed like moonlight against the sun-dusted paths.
"You always pick the weirdest places to meet," Salmon finally said over the chaos around them. "Last time it was a funeral home. Before that, a laundromat that smelled like wet socks."
"Our enemies don't think to look for us near discount detergent," Minuet said defensively.
"They also won't think to look for us on top of an active volcano," Salmon countered.
"Too hot. My scalp burns easily."
Salmon snorted.
Minuet rolled his eyes. "Anyway. Onto the bigger concern. Vandeberg."
He passed a rolled up newspaper he had kept in his trench-coat to Salmon.
Salmon's steps slowed as he unrolled it and read the headline.
'Vanderberg Stops Time'
The picture was of a young, wild haired man with bright eyes and thick glasses. He had the kind of eyes that would promise to clean the ocean and fix world hunger and you'd believe it.
He was tall and lean, the way his white button shirt clung to his shoulders suggested he wasn't just a regular dungeon nerd.
Next to him was a large metal contraption sticking out of the wall. Large pipes and cords gathered behind it, glinting under the bright floodlights from the ceiling.
"This thing can't actually work." Salmon said, eyes sweeping over the article with boredom.
"Oh, that's what I thought," Minuet grumbled. "Try 'confirmed.' He actually built something—some time-folding contraption. And the idiot might have succeeded."
Salmon shook his head and passed the article back to Minuet. "Humanity doesn't have the physics, science or mathematics developed enough to understand the light that wraps around this void of existence, let alone the concept of how time works."
Minuet nodded and tucked the newspaper in his jacket as he finished the last bit of his waffle cone. "Exactly, this waffle is amazing by the way, they're eons away from even the framework of how time is structured, so how exactly does this Trillionair tech boy create something that his brain cannot even fathom?"
Salmon stopped. "It worked you said."
Minuet crumbled the tissue he saved to wipe the ice cream on his cheeks as his expression shifted gravely.
"His contraption ran for seven seconds, and that took away one zeptosecond. I know you can feel the slight acceleration of time, days suddenly feel shorter. Imagine if he took a whole millisecond."
Salmon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great. So now we're playing god and breaking chronology in the same week."
"Precisely why you're going," Minuet said dryly. "I need eyes on it. There are larger forces at play here."
Salmon chuckled under his breath. "Speaking of larger forces, I saw the Black Cat—"
"Where?" Minuet looked shocked.
"With a girl, an anomaly or divinely protected girl too, haven't seen one of those in a while." Salmon replied, his blue eyes glazed over, zoning out. "She asked me if I could see it. I wonder why the Black Cat would allow himself to be seen by a human, regardless if she's an anomaly."
They stopped near a row of colorful birds that squawked loudly at them, almost drowning out the crowd noise and the security guards behind them beckoning away the onlookers as the bloody suicidal girl was pushed into an ambulance
Minuet folded his arms. "The Black Cat is a force old as time. We don't bother it or its handling, and it allows us to exist as we are. Maybe it has its own thing going with that human."
Salmon nodded, flashes of the girl filled his thoughts. He couldn't shake off the dead look in her violet eyes as she stared out into an empty world as if she knew its secrets as he did. Her hospital gown blowing in the wind, strands of her hair falling across her gentle face, he still felt like she was a mirage. A type of melancholic beauty you'd see on a cold foggy afternoon and it would haunt you forever.
Then when she turned to him to ask about the cat that dull look was gone.
"And Seven? Any progress?"
The sound of Minuet's voice dragged him back.
Salmon looked away, jaw tightening slightly. "Oh that's still going."
"That bad?"
"That complicated."
Minuet gave him a knowing look — more father than handler in that moment. "Don't overthink it. She'll turn up when she shouldn't. They always do."
"She's still alive out there, I can feel the pulse of her Essence but it's like she's everywhere all at once. How does someone stay off the radar while staying on the radar for a hundred years?"
"I'm not quit sure. How do you think she's able to resist her Calling for this long?"
Salmon didn't answer, but the faint crease between his brows said enough.
A gust of wind swept through, rustling the trees, lifting his silver hair off his forehead like strands of reflective silk.
Minuet sighed. "You look too handsome to be dealing with all this chaos."
"You're the one that hired me," Salmon muttered. He turned to Minuet and grinned sheepishly, although it didn't reach his eyes. "I suppose I should retire soon."
Minuet chuckled at the awful joke. He'd humour Salmon whenever he joked about 'retirement' but he prayed that day would never come.
They resumed their walk, blending into the noise of the zoo — while behind them, security swarmed the ape enclosure and Daniel kept calling Elle's name as the ambulance drove by the Salmon and Minuet.
Neither of them spared a glance. Death was familiar, chaos was expected.
But destiny — destiny was what Salmon had come for. And he had just unknowingly walked right past her again.