Zora's Aurora 1 - Glory's Shadow
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 8
One Week Later – Denver
Delta’s office was its usual paradox: neat as a pin yet somehow suffused with the faint aroma of half a dozen takeout cuisines. Zora swore the carpet itself smelled like soy sauce.
Sophie, Zora, and Brian lounged around Delta’s desk, mugs in hand. Brax and Finn were off “doing their thing”—which meant nobody had a clue what, and nobody was particularly brave enough to find out.
“So.” Delta leaned back in her chair, hands folded behind her head. “Now that you’re finally off the leash, spill it. Give me the unedited version.”
Sophie exchanged a glance with Zora, then shrugged. “You know most of it. They apprehended Igor as well. Jarl’s still in the hospital. Apparently pumping yourself full of pheromones like a perfume junkie isn’t great for long-term health.”
“Shocking,” Brian said dryly. “Who could have foreseen that inhaling mystery chemicals by the bucketload might backfire?”
Zora smirked. “He may have cooked himself for good. Permanent neurological damage, they’re saying. That’s karma with a medical chart.”
“How’s Jennix doing?” Delta asked.
“Hospitalized for a few days,” Sophie replied. “But she’s fine now. Discharged yesterday. Lucky. She’s still in Anastasia tying up loose ends, but she’ll be back on Earth in a day or two.”
At the mention of Jennix, Brian shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Uh ... yeah. About that.” His ears went red. “I just want to apologize for ... you know. Everything. The whole ... zombie routine.”
Zora’s lips quirked, the perfect setup for a razor-edged wisecrack. But she caught herself, studied Brian for a moment, then softened. “Don’t beat yourself up. We got to know the real Jennix, once we put the pieces together. She’s actually pretty grounded. If anything, she’s probably just as embarrassed as you are.”
Brian gave a weak laugh. “That’s saying something. I think I spent half that tour of duty acting like a lovesick puppy. If you had put a leash on me, I’d have fetched slippers.”
“Correction,” Sophie said smoothly. “You’d have fetched her slippers.”
“Right,” Brian admitted. “And carried them around for three hours before realizing they weren’t even mine.”
Delta snorted.
Zora raised her mug in mock salute. “To Brian. Survived pheromone hell without side effects.”
Brian clinked his mug to hers. “Brax too. But what about Finn? Any news?”
“Doctor thinks the elbow problem might actually be pheromone damage,” Sophie said, frowning. “Not just overplaying. They’re running tests.”
Brian grimaced. “Figures. Guy plays through pain, and it turns out it’s not tendonitis—it’s space perfume.”
“Not funny,” Sophie said.
“Okay, it’s a little funny,” Zora countered.
Brian raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, if we don’t laugh about this, we’ll cry. And nobody wants to see me cry. I get blotchy.”
Delta sighed, but a smile tugged at her lips. “One week back on Earth and already it feels like normal. Band drama, quips, mystery injuries ... business as usual.”
Sophie set her mug down carefully. “There’s one more thing. After the arrest, Zora and I met with Verity. We ... reached a truce.”
Delta’s eyebrows went up. “A truce with Verity? That sounds like a contradiction in terms.”