Zora's Aurora 2 - Silver Veil
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 1
The little one-story house, the residence of Zora and Sophie, held the muted aroma of coffee and guitar polish. There was another scent in the air, something vaguely citrusy that Zora insisted was “atmosphere, not air freshener.” Brian sat slouched in the corner of their overstuffed couch, legs stretched out, nursing a mug. Zora, cross-legged on the rug with a notebook open, was doodling treble clefs instead of writing lyrics. Sophie was perched sideways in an armchair, strumming her guitar absentmindedly while glaring at nothing in particular.
“Delta says the hologram compilation’s a hit,” Sophie reported. “She used the word lucrative three times in one sentence. That’s her version of dancing a jig.”
“She also said,” Zora cut in, “that we need to crank out more songs for the follow-up. She’s got us on the treadmill again.”
Brian chuckled. “That’s what we get for being successful. We could always tank a compilation on purpose.”
Zora raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tempt me. I could make an entire record out of the sound of Finn chewing gravel.”
“Meat gravel,” Sophie corrected gently, smiling.
“Right. Meat gravel. It’d go platinum.”
Brian set his mug down, shaking his head. “You two are incorrigible.”
“Thank you,” Zora said sweetly.
The laughter ebbed, leaving a little pocket of quiet. Sophie closed her notebook and leaned back against the couch. “So. How’re you holding up, Brian?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he sighed, staring into the dregs of his coffee. “I’ve been thinking a lot since ... you know. Since that whole pheromone mess. Made me realize I’ve been stuck. Holding on too tight.”
Neither Zora nor Sophie spoke, letting him continue.
“Aletha—” his voice caught, then steadied. “She’d have wanted me to let go. To keep living. The kids ... they’ve already started to process it. Aleigha, Brice ... they’re stronger than me, honestly. I think it’s time I caught up to them.”
Zora’s sharp wit softened. “We’ve been waiting to hear that for a long time, Bri.”
Sophie nodded, quiet agreement in her eyes.
Brian gave them a crooked smile. “Guess I’m finally ready to listen to myself, huh?”
The silence that followed was gentle, comfortable—the kind that didn’t need to be filled.
Eventually, Zora broke it with her usual bluntness. “Speaking of moving forward—Sophie and I are checking in on Carmen at the animal sanctuary tomorrow. She hinted she’s got things to talk about, but she was vague.”
Brian brightened a little at the mention. “Carmen’s solid. She probably just wants to rope you into shoveling stalls again.”
“Ha,” Zora said. “If she tries, I’m charging overtime.”
Sophie smiled. “You love it, admit it.”
“Love’s a strong word,” Zora muttered, but her grin betrayed her.
Brian laughed, shaking his head again. For the first time in a long time, his laughter didn’t sound weighed down.
The driverless car rolled up to the curb with a low whirring sound, its once-sleek chassis showing its age with a few scuffs and an interface panel that flickered like an old neon sign. Zora eyed it suspiciously. “Well. If this thing kills us, at least Delta can hologram us into the next compilation.”
Sophie smirked, tossing her bag inside. “You’re exaggerating. It’s just a little ... vintage.”
“Vintage?” Zora snorted as she slid into the seat. “This thing’s so old it probably still asks for gas.”
The car chirped cheerfully in a mechanical voice: “Please buckle up for your thirty-two-minute ride to Guerra Animal Sanctuary.”
“See?” Sophie said, fastening her belt. “Perfectly fine.”
The vehicle came to life, gliding smoothly onto the road. Cityscape gave way to the outskirts, then to stretches of dusty prairie and rolling foothills, dotted with wind turbines lazily turning. By the time the car left the last of the main road behind, it was all wide sky, dirt paths, and the occasional stubborn cow eyeing them from behind a fence.
Zora leaned her forehead against the window, watching the landscape blur by. “This is good. I like it. Less noise, more sky.”
“You sound like Carmen,” Sophie teased.
“She’s right,” Zora replied, tapping the glass. “The world makes more sense out here.”
The car crunched up a gravel lane and stopped in front of a low, sun-warmed building surrounded by pastures, kennels, and a scatter of small barns. The air carried a medley of smells—hay, earth, and the faint musk of animals.
The animal sanctuary was another business venture for Zora and Sophie — they were co-owners. Roughly five years ago, Zora had happened into some money. As a certified animal lover, she decided to help out Carmen Guerra, a friend in need. Zora purchased the struggling business and gave it a much-needed infusion of cash. And then, two years ago, Sophie had expressed an interest in getting involved as well, buying in at fifty percent. Although no longer the owner, Carmen stayed on and managed the sanctuary along with her husband, Rodolfo. Zora and Sophie paid her a nice salary, and the name of the business remained Guerra Animal Sanctuary. This allowed Carmen to focus on what she enjoyed — managing animals — while someone else took care of the business side of things. Carmen and Rodolfo lived in a residence that was right up alongside the sanctuary itself.
Carmen was already outside, waving as the car’s doors swung open. An amiable woman in her mid-forties, she looked the same as always—steady, practical, hair tied back, a little dust on her jeans as if she’d been wrangling goats five minutes earlier.
”¡Bienvenidas, mis estrellas!” Zora called, sweeping her arms wide and laying the Spanish on thick. “El sol brilla más brillante porque Carmen Guerra está aquí.” Fluent in five languages, Zora rarely passed up a chance to show off.
Carmen laughed, shaking her head as Sophie rolled her eyes. “Zora, you sound like a telenovela announcer. English works just fine.”
“But then I can’t roll my r’s so dramatically,” Zora countered.
They hugged warmly, Sophie following with a gentler smile.
“Come on, let me show you around,” Carmen said, leading them past a stretch of pens.
The sanctuary bustled quietly—rescued dogs wagging at chain-link fences, a pair of llamas grazing under a windmill, a trio of orphaned goats bouncing like springs. Birds called from an aviary nearby, and in the distance, a small horse lifted its head curiously at the visitors.
Zora’s whole demeanor softened. She crouched by a pen to scratch a scruffy mutt’s ears through the fence. “Who’s a good boy? You are. You’re a masterpiece, amigo.”
Sophie chuckled. “Every animal’s a masterpiece in her book.”
Carmen smiled, pleased. “We’ve been busy, but they’re all settling in. It’s good to have you two here again.”
“Feels like we’ve been gone forever,” Sophie admitted.
“Too long,” Zora added, rising reluctantly as the dog whined at her retreat. “Next time, I’m bringing a sleeping bag. They won’t get rid of me.”
Carmen only shook her head fondly as she led them toward the main building.
The three of them sat around Carmen’s modest office—wood-paneled walls, a desk stacked with feed invoices, and a window looking out over the pastures. The faint cluck of chickens carried in from outside.
Zora leaned back in her chair, hands folded behind her head. “So, Carmen, how’s Rodolfo these days? Still the patron saint of Guerra Animal Sanctuary?”
Carmen laughed softly. “He’s fine. Out running errands—feed, supplies, probably sneaking a burrito for himself while he’s at it. You know him.”
“Smart man,” Sophie said. “Errands are always better with burritos.”
Carmen’s smile faded just a touch. “Speaking of supplies ... we’ve had some oddities lately. A couple of shipments came in light, and one invoice listed equipment we never ordered. Probably just clerical errors, but it’s been happening more often than I’d like.”
Zora arched a brow. “Hmm. Sounds like somebody needs to sic the llamas on their logistics department.”
Sophie gave her a look. “Zora...”
“I’m serious,” Zora said with mock gravity. “Goat-based accountability. It’s the future.”
Carmen chuckled but didn’t push the matter further. Instead, she folded her hands on the desk. “Anyway, enough about that. Tell me how the band’s doing.”
Zora and Sophie exchanged a glance.
“Well,” Sophie began, “we’re sidelined from live shows for now. Finn’s elbow is worse than we thought, so until we figure out a plan, we’re basically living off the holo compilation sales.”
“Which are going well,” Zora added quickly. “People still love us, even in pixelated form.”