the disease, but given that those things eat you from the inside out, I think that would be
lying. They were used to clean corpses in ancient times, to empty bodies so that they could
be stuffed with fragrant herbs.”
That crawling sensation returned, and Alex had to clench her fists to keep from scratching at her skin. “What did they do to me? Will there be lasting damage?”
Dawes rubbed her thumb against the glass. “I honestly don’t know.”
Alex pushed up from the pillows that Dawes had placed beneath her neck. She likes taking care of people, Alex realized. Was that why she and Dawes had never gotten along?
Because Alex had refused her mothering? “How did you know what to do?”
Dawes frowned. “It’s my job to know.”
And Dawes was good at her job. Simple as that. She seemed calm enough, but if she
gripped that glass any harder it was going to break in her hands. Her fingers were stained
with rainbow splotches that Alex realized were the pale remnants of highlighter.
“Did anything try to … get in?” Alex wasn’t even sure what that would look like.
“I’m not sure. The chimes have been ringing off and on. Something’s been brushing up
against the wards.”
Alex rose and felt the room spin. She stumbled and made herself take Dawes’s
solicitous hand.
Alex wasn’t sure what she expected to see waiting outside. The gluma’s face looking back at her, light glinting off its glasses? Something worse? She touched her fingers to her
throat and yanked the curtain back.
The street to the left was dark and empty. She must have slept through the entire day. In
the alley she saw the Bridegroom, pacing back and forth in the yellow light of the streetlamp.
“What is it?” asked Dawes nervously. “What’s there?” She sounded almost breathless.
“Just a Gray. The Bridegroom.” He looked up at the window. Alex drew the curtain closed.
“You can really see him? I’ve only seen photos.”
Alex nodded. “He’s very tousled. Very mournful. Very … Morrissey.”
Dawes surprised her by singing, “And I wonder, does anybody feel the same way I do?”
“And is evil,” sang Alex quietly, “just something you are or something you do?” She’d meant it as a joke, a way to solidify the bare threads of camaraderie forming between them, but in the eerie lamplit quiet, the words sounded menacing. “I think he saved my life. He attacked that thing.”
“The gluma?”
“Yeah.” Alex shuddered. It had been so strong and seemingly immune to everything
she’d thrown at it—which admittedly hadn’t been much. “I need to know how to stop one
of those things.”
“I’ll pull whatever we have on them,” said Dawes. “But you shouldn’t form ties with Grays, especially a violent one.”
“We don’t have a tie.”
“Then why did he help you?”
“Maybe he wasn’t helping me. Maybe he was trying to hurt the gluma. I didn’t exactly have time to ask.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying,” said Alex, then flinched when a low gong sounded.
Someone had entered the stairwell.
“It’s okay,” Dawes said. “It’s only Dean Sandow.”
“You called Sandow?”
“Of course,” Dawes said, straightening. “You were nearly killed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Because a Gray interceded on your behalf.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Alex snarled before she could tame her response.
Dawes drew back. “He needs to know what happened!”
“Don’t tell him anything.” Alex wasn’t sure why she was so afraid of Sandow knowing
what had gone down. Maybe it was just old habit. You didn’t talk. You didn’t tell. That was how CPS got called. That was how you got locked up “for observation.”
Dawes planted her hands on her hips. “What would I tell him? I don’t know what happened to you any more than I know what happened to Darlington. I’m just here to clean up your messes.”
“Isn’t that what they pay you for?” Empty the fridge. A little light dusting. Save my worthless life. Damn it. “Dawes—”