And my three-page résumé.
And the fact that I changed my college major six times before dropping out.
But…whatever. That's beside the point. "You and I should probably talk about our situation."
He blinks at me, puzzled. "Why?"
"I'm feeling a little railroaded at the moment," I begin, twisting my quartz necklace. "Do you realize just how much this is messing up my life right now? With—"
I break off, because Kassam places a hand over my mouth to silence me. That slippery, coiling pleasure slides through me, coupled with outrage. What the hell does he think he's doing, shushing me? I push at his hand, irritated, but he wraps his other arm around my shoulders and hauls me against his chest, my back pressing against him.
"Shh," Kassam whispers. "Wait."
I go still, because the urge to obey him is always present. Not only that, but there's something in his voice that makes me worry. I move my lips against his fingers, indicating that I want to talk, but he keeps me pinned against his chest, cradled in front of him.
Kassam leans in, whispering in my ear. "Do you feel that?"
Feel? I wait, trying to see what it is that Kassam “feels” in the hall. Around me I see nothing but the plain halls of my apartment building, slightly dingy and a boring, corporate gray. There's a plastic ficus at the far end of the hall, by the elevator, just like normal, and the doors across the hall are all closed tight. My door is cracked open, a cat trotting out to meet us. Someone has mail stuck to the clip outside their door, but other than that, everything looks normal.
I don't see anything. I'm tempted to bite his hand, but he makes a low sound in his throat that pauses me.
And…then I feel it.
The small hairs on my arms rise. The air feels charged, heavy like it does before a storm. Not quite the same as when Lachesis was in the bar, that subtle attraction that told me to go to her, but something else. It's strong and potent and not quite human, like someone poured pure energy into my building.
It's coming directly from my apartment, too. Whoever—whatever—is waiting there wants us to know that they're there.
I'm frightened. I clutch at Kassam's hand. "What is that?" I mumble against his fingers.
His mouth brushes against my ear as he whispers. "Whoever is following us found you. Are you ready to fight?"
Fight?
Is he serious? I don't want to fight. I want to go home, push a few cats off the bed, eat the rest of the donuts, and gripe that he's treating me like a thing and not like a person. All of that doesn't matter right now, though. Not when there's some sort of strong, worrying entity in my apartment waiting for us.
Lurking.
I shake my head and his hand moves away from my mouth. "I don't want to fight," I whisper. "Do we have another option?"
"Run?"
I nod. Yeah, I like that one. "Running's good," I hiss. I grab his hand and turn around, racing for the fire escape stairs. He goes with me, our bare feet padding down the metal stairs as we go down several flights toward the street. I race out of the front of the building, and I keep racing without stopping until we get to the corner store at the end of the street, the twenty-four-hour one with a few gas pumps, a Slurpee machine, and bright, bright lights in the parking lot.
For some reason, those lights feel like safety. Having people around feels like safety.
I step inside the electronic doors, my toes curling on the mat near the entrance. The middle-aged woman behind the counter frowns at me as I walk forward, but her expression melts into one of adoration the moment she catches sight of Kassam.
Behind me, Kassam breathes deep, inhaling the scents. "What is this fascinating place?"
Fascinating? I look over at him and he's got that hedonism look in his eyes. Maybe it's the scent of the hotdogs on the world's oldest grilling machine, or the bright colors of the snack foods, but I can see how this is exciting to him. He picks up a plastic package of pink frosted cakes and sniffs it. "This is a corner store," I say, watching the cashier. "People get food and gas here." I pat my pockets, but I already know they're empty. "We don't have any money, though."
"Hi," blurts the woman behind the counter. "I'm Maggie."
"Greetings, Maggie," Kassam practically purrs, turning his gaze toward her. "Do you mind if we visit your store?"
Like a schoolgirl, Maggie giggles and tucks a gray lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't mind. And if you forgot your wallet, you can start a tab here. I'll cover you." She gives Kassam a meaningful look. "But don't tell anyone."
He puts a finger to his lips and holds the pink cakes out to Maggie. "Do you find these tasty?"
15
I pace around the store's low, dusty shelves, pretending to examine the contents while Kassam works his charms on Maggie. I don't feel anything, though, and as I continue to watch the door, no one comes in or out. When Kassam finally hands me a bright red slush to drink, I take it and slide into the booth at the back of the store, gazing at old lottery ticket advertisements that cover the window. I can't see out into the parking lot or the street, but maybe it's for the best. I don't know that I'd be able to see a god approaching anyhow, unless he was in mortal form like Kassam. If he's a god, he could be anything—a bird, a horse, a gust of wind…
Instead of sitting across from me in the booth, Kassam sits right next to me, blocking me in against the wall. He grins, his lips reddened from his slush, and spills his snacks on the table. He's got a hot dog from the machine, three bags of chips, four kinds of candy, and those pink cakes he was so fascinated with. "Are you hungry, my little light? Shall we eat?"
I'm ravenous, despite the donuts I had just a short time ago, but I shake my head. I don't feel like eating, especially not when we're being pursued. "Are you done flirting now? Can we focus on the fact that someone's following us, please?"
"They are gone," Kassam says, frowning at the plastic wrap on the cakes. He licks it cautiously, a thoughtful look on his face. I snatch the package from him and open it, and his smile grows again. "I do not feel anything anymore, do you?"
"No," I admit, handing him back the food. "You don't eat wrappers, FYI. Just the contents."
"Aaaah." He takes a bite of the pink cake and grunts. "It looks better than it tastes."
"A lot of things do."
He gives me a sultry look from under his lashes and licks the frosting. "You both look delightful and taste delicious."
Heat prickles through me. I rub my bracelet instead, trying not to watch him as he tongues a cheap snack cake. "So do you know who—or what—that was? In my apartment?" It's hitting me now that someone was in my home, lurking there. Waiting for us. I'm not sure we can ever go back. Despair hits me. No job, no apartment…I'm starting to feel invisible walls closing in around me. It's been two days since I was bonded to Kassam.
At this rate, we're not going to last a week.
Kassam sets down the remnants of the cake he's licked clean of its frosting and picks up his Slurpee again. "I did not recognize the power signature. A god from this realm, perhaps, but one that is unknown to me."