Cold meat. Jellied blood.
“Yes.”
The women in her visions, the maenads. Rae shivered with the memory of a bloody kiss. “What do they say?”
“They’re coming. The sisters and their king. They’re coming and we have to wait for them. They’ll make us into something more.”
He pressed her against the wall. One rough hand brushed her cheek, pushed back her hood to stroke her hair. She shuddered. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to wait alone.”
Her breath rushed out, shining in the firelight. The fire’s warmth rolled over them, but his flesh was cold as the night. She couldn’t see his face, only his glowing aura. The knife glowed too as he raised it, light sparking on the edge.
“What—” She choked on the question. Black yarn parted with a rasp as he cut through her sweater. The blade never touched her skin. Sweater, T-shirt, the camisole beneath: he peeled her layer by layer until her chest was bare to the winter night.
“What are you doing?” She ought to be scared, ought to scream or fight. But the tremble in her limbs wasn’t fear.
He ran a hand from her sternum to her navel, caressing the curves and hollows of her stomach. Her chest hitched, silver flashing. “Do you feel it?” His breath was cold on her cheek as he leaned close. “Do you feel the stars?”
She felt the maenad’s need coursing through her, drowning anything careful. Anything sane. He was dead. Her hand slid beneath the gore-stiff fabric of his shirt. Blood crunched under her nails. “Yes.”
He leaned closer, grinding her shoulder blades against the bricks, and she whimpered. His face was in her hair, lips on her ear, her throat. His hand slid up, grazing the underside of her breast; her hips twitched.
“Can you see the towers?”
She closed her eyes and watched black moons wheel over an ivory city. Her back arched, pressing her hips against his; he wasn’t that dead, after all. His palm closed over her breast, pinching flesh against metal. She was warm enough for both of them.
He drew back to look at her and she tilted her head. What did dead lips taste like? But he shook himself like a dog and pulled away. Rae whimpered again, trembling for the press of flesh.
“I can’t,” he said, even as he swayed toward her. “Not yet. I need to write it all down. I can’t forget the things she shows me.”
The knife kissed her ribs, an ice-feather tickle. She froze, breath caught. “What—”
“It doesn’t hurt. You’ll see.” His other hand cupped her cheek and she fought not to lean into the touch. “She’ll show you too.”
She gasped as the blade pierced the skin below her ribs. No pain, just cold and pressure, a pop and tug. Easier than any of her piercings. Skin gaped and dark blood oozed down her stomach, thick and sticky as treacle.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“I can’t forget.”
The night shattered into thunder and light and fell around her in razor shards. The dead man jerked, the knife slipping from his fingers as his right temple burst. Blood and brains spilled like pomegranate seeds. Rae let out a startled squeak as they splattered her face. He toppled sideways, colors fading from his aura.
A dog-headed monster stood in front of her, teeth shining in the firelight. It touched her face with burning taloned hands. Now the fear came, washing away desire and leaving Rae cold and shaking. She wanted to scream, but her voice was dead.
“Did he hurt you?” the monster asked, and now it was only a woman, dark-haired and familiar. She looked at Rae’s stomach and cursed. The wound stretched with every panicked breath, but only bled a slow molasses trickle.
“Not you too,” the woman muttered. Oil-slick metal gleamed in her hand as she stepped back and raised the gun. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” It was the only word she could manage. Rae looked down at the dead man, but he was a blur of red and shadow. She couldn’t hear the chanting anymore, couldn’t smell the roses. Only wet brick and charred metal and blood. Only the echo of distant trains. The world spun beneath her. The wall tilted and threw her off.
“Don’t,” she whispered again. Then she slid into the dark.
VOICES REACHED HER as though through deep water, but Rae couldn’t open her eyes. Someone held her, strong arms cradling her like a child. She felt another heartbeat through cloth and flesh. The touch was warm and soothing, a sharp contrast to the icy breeze