Katherine Quevedo
My date plunked down into the café chair across from me. Humanoid master of the Labyrinth. Half man, half beast. Sounded like he should be kinda hot, but he just—wasn’t, to me. Maybe because I’d never been into nose rings. Or maybe because the leather jacket made it look like he was trying too hard, the way the collar dug into his thick bovine neck. The way he pretended not to care he wore leather—probably (hopefully) faux, but even then, why promote wearing your own skin as fashion? I wouldn’t be caught dead in fur or feathers.
I’d been hoping for a human head and animal body, like mine, but I found the opposite sitting across from me. At least he was into mazes. Not the same as riddles, but it was close enough for a conversation starter.
His right ear flicked nervously, and his hands clenched his coffee mug so tightly that faint white splotches spread across his knuckles. Just on the other side of his cup, hidden from my view, lay those opposable thumbs. Lucky.
“So,” he rumbled, “you like asking riddles?”
“Yes. If the challenger fails to answer correctly, I strangle them.” I let that sink in as I took a gulp of my spicy hot chocolate.
He bought some time by sipping his beverage too, his massive throat undulating with the intake. Steady plumes of steam rose from his cup when he set it down. I gave him credit, he didn’t flinch at the heat. “Impressive you can do that without human hands,” he said.
I clutched my cup more tightly in both paws, its temperature biting into my soft pads. “Thanks. You like riddles?”
“Sure.” He changed the topic before I could ask him one. Clever.
I had to admit, his gig inside the maze sounded pretty interesting. I let the zing of hot peppers and dark chocolate distract my tongue so I could listen and find out more about his work. But the longer he spoke, the more I itched to put him in his place. Keep him at a distance. Build up some walls, one might say—especially my date. He knew all about walls. I finally figured out what bothered me about him. That neck. It was too muscular and broad for my paws to get a grip on. What good was being a strangler if you couldn’t manage a proper choke hold?
He paused and fixed me with double bull’s-eyes. “What’s that look for?”
Oh no, curse this human face of mine! Always betraying me with its manifold expressions. “Nothing, I just…”
“Ah, we come to it at last. Out with it.”
Was he offering me an exit? Mr. Master of the Labyrinth? “It’s just, I expected you to be more…” I couldn’t finish, not under his knowing gaze. What did I mean to say, anyway? Human? He was more that than I am.
“Go on, say it. Bullheaded?”
Whether or not I’d been thinking that, I blushed, and my furless face gave it away.
He snorted. “I knew it. We’re not all as lucky as you, you know. Lion and eagle, noble animals. Some of us get stuck with nothing but clumsy, stubborn, brutish, ridiculous, ham-handed—”
“I love your hands,” I blurted, surprising myself.
He gaped at me, an expression I’m sure few, if any, ever got to see from the master of the Labyrinth. Adorable.
No turning back now. I released my cup to touch one paw to the back of his hand. “They’re riddles,” I said. He let go of his mug and offered me his palm. Three main lines cut across it, with fainter wrinkles running between them. “They’re mazes.”
His fingers closed around my fur with a soothing heat, not the scald of my mug but the toastiness of a sun-warmed rock. My tail flicked in spite of myself. My own labyrinth walls, the arrogance, the independence, the need to intimidate, all crumbled. We held hands—hand and paw—whatever. We held a piece of each other, because that’s what we are, isn’t it? Pieces. Mismatched upon ourselves, balanced out somehow in each other. I could learn to appreciate that nose ring. I was starting to love that neck. The jacket could be shed, or perhaps a deeper story lay behind it, unknown to me as of yet. Have I mentioned I adore riddles?
By the time I finally remembered my drink, it had cooled.
March 22nd, 2024
Katherine Quevedo was born and raised just outside of Portland, Oregon, where she works as an analyst and lives with her husband and two sons. Her fiction has appeared in Fireside Magazine, Nightmare Magazine, Best Indie Speculative Fiction Vol. III and IV, Factor Four Magazine, Short Édition’s Short Circuit, MYRIAD, and elsewhere. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching movies, singing, playing old-school video games, belly dancing, and making spreadsheets. Find her at www.katherinequevedo.com.
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Wyldblood 14
Wyldblood 14 is available now
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Nine great new short stories and two drabbles in a fine new collection from Wyldblood. #14 is packed with science fiction and fantasy from imagined worlds to gritty reality a clutch of adventurous, thought provoking and sometimes sligtly unsettling tales which should give you plenty to read though the long winter nights. Available in print and digital formats.
From the Depths
Our latest anthology is packed with tales of the murky deep. We’ve got fifteen stories stuffed with selkies and sea monsters, pirates and meremaids, intrigue, adventure and more. Available in print and digitally.
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