old sex and sweat, the cloying honey-sweetness of mania filtering through her skin. Human skin, wrapped around clumsy flesh and heavy bone, limbs so much dead weight. Wings clipped again.
She rolled over and wiped her nose with the back of her hand; three fingers tingled pins-and-needles as feeling returned. The room was black except for a glowing stripe under the door. She blinked watering eyes and turned away until her vision adjusted.
Shadows wept down the walls, puddled and bubbled on the floor. They whispered. Rae bit her lip to keep from whimpering, to keep from calling out. Only shadows and synesthesia. She pulled a pillow over her face and counted from zero to ten and back again. Only shadows. They couldn’t hurt her.
Voices from the other room filtered through her frantic thoughts, drowning the whispers. These voices were worse and she hugged the pillow tighter against her ears, but they snaked inside anyway. Jason and Stephen, the conversation a blur of profits and costs that made her head hurt, that dragged her back into the cold, ugly world where one friend was dead and another in the hospital and her boyfriend was selling drugs to pay the rent. As often as she’d wished for Jason to find a decent job, she’d rather go back to busking and waiting tables to support them than have him working for Stephen York.
Very bad karma, her mother would have said.
She sat up, wrapping a sweaty sheet around her and waiting for the shadows to stop seething. If she stepped on the floor now they might stick to her feet, or crawl up her legs like spiders, and then she’d definitely freak out.
A little longer was all she needed. If the mania only lasted another hour, maybe she could reach the singing stars, understand their voices. The drug lingered warm and liquid in her veins, but she wouldn’t fly again tonight. The curtains were pulled tight against the hiss of rain, no clock in the room to tell her how long she’d been out. Her bladder ached and her mouth tasted like old socks.
When the shadows finally stilled Rae stood by the door, almostclean clothes bundled in her arms, waiting for the voices to stop. The cold floor sent goosebumps crawling over her skin, tightening her nipples around silver hoops. Her desire not to see Stephen overshadowed her need for the bathroom, especially when she was grimy and strung out and mostly naked. She’d nearly started to potty-dance when the front door opened and closed again.
Hinges creaked as she peeked out of the bedroom and Jason turned, matte-black hair falling over his eyes. “Hey, babe. Finally awake?”
“Maybe.” She glanced past him, making sure the living room was empty. The curtains gapped here, showing black beyond the rain-fogged glass. Her broken-tailed Kit-Cat clock told her it was a quarter to eleven, which meant she’d been out nearly eight hours.
Longer and longer every time. But never long enough.
Jason crossed the room and bent his head to kiss her. She was still manic enough to see his aura without trying, a faint nimbus of color circling his head and hands. Murkier than usual, dull brown wicking through the blues and greens, but maybe that was just her imagination.
“You want to go out tonight?” He trailed a thumb over her collarbone and she shuddered as sensation rippled across her skin.
She shook her head, which made the colors swirl. “I’d rather take it easy. Maybe I’ll busk a little if I’m feeling up to it. We can go out tomorrow.”
His hands settled on her shoulders, pale against her wintersallow skin. “I’ve got money, babe. You don’t need to do that anymore.”
She shrugged and smiled. “I like it.” More importantly, she wanted money that Stephen had never touched. She wasn’t hypocrite enough that dealing bothered her, but Stephen’s smiles and generosity made her flesh creep. He was hard and slick as hematite behind the charm, cold as sharkskin.
Jason frowned but nodded. “Okay. I’ve got some errands to run, if you’re going to go out.”
“Sure,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “We can hang out tomorrow.”
He leaned in and kissed her neck. “We don’t have to leave right now.”
Her hands slid down the front of his shirt, skin tingling, craving touch. Worn-soft cotton and cracked paint shivered through her fingertips. And below that, flesh, warm and solid.
Rae sidestepped even as her stomach tightened with want. “I really gotta pee.” She ducked into the bathroom before Jason could reply, turning the