“Oh, come on,” I say, flicking water from my fingers like confetti. “I’m not asking for god knows what. I just wantvibes.”
“We don’t vibe,” Cassian deadpans. The corner of his mouth betrays him anyway.
Another scream rises through the floorboards, snagging in the old ducts. My name is in it this time. I blink, startled by the absence of any flinch in me. The sound lands, rolls off, and evaporates.
Huh.
“He’s calling for you,” Cassian notes, his voice flat.
“It’s cute he thinks I care,” I say. “Let me put him on hold.”
Something in me should be horrified, right? Old me was a moral pretzel, twisted into shapes to accommodate everyone else’s comfort. Old me would have felt a tremor, at least. But tonight, all I feel is buoyant. I’m light as helium.
I grin wider.
“Do you know what this is?” I ask, conspiratorial. “Corruption. You’ve corrupted me.”
His snort is more audible this time.
“Speaker,” I repeat, sing-song, wagging a damp finger at him. “You boys must have something. A boom box. A gramophone. Something possessed in Nathaniel’s closet.”
“You won’t get internet access,” he says. “You won’t get Bluetooth or anything that pings.”
“I’m fine with analog,” I counter, eyes brightening. “As long as you have it. Do you have it?”
Cassian sighs. “Yeah. Talon has a portable. It’s on a battery pack. He uses it when he burns things in the courtyard.”
Yes. Victory.
“See?Vibes!” I clap, delighted. “Where is it?”
“In his room.”
I don’t wait. Towel cinched, I beeline down the hall, leaving wet footprints in my wake. Before long, I shoulder into Talon’s room and start looking. It turns out to be under his bed. It's a sturdy little portable turntable with scuffs in all the right places, paired with a chunky speaker the size of a small tombstone. Talon taped a skull sticker over the logo.
Cute.
I cradle the turntable in my hands just as Cassian appears in the doorway.
“Help me carry this,” I tell him, already handing it over. “It’s fucking heavy.”
He doesn’t move.
“Cass,” I say softly, stepping close enough that the edge of my towel brushes his knuckles. “You kept watch outside a shower so I could be new again. You let me be a monster in peace. Don’t ruin the mood now, okay? Please?”
His jaw ticks.
“Let me throw it a parade,” I whine. “This is pretty much a dope-ass funeral of mine.”
I watch the debate behind his eyes: risk vs. the sight of me incandescent. My smile tilts reckless. He takes the speaker.
Ahh, another victory. It tastes so goddamn sweet.
We carry the gear down the hall. The building hums around us. I’m barefoot. Cassian walks beside me, all muscle and tension. I hold the turntable tight against my ribs.
Downstairs, a man faces the bill for his sins. Someone hammers once. Nathaniel’s voice rises, calm and clinical, reading notes. Talon laughs, low and rough.
I don’t ask what they’re doing to Mark.
