Normally, Alden wore his hair with the confidence of a brightly feathered bird.
But this wasn’t a normal day. It was Nate’s first time back at the shop since he’d left for Reed’s gang. If Alden felt a fraction of the tension coiling Nate’s guts into ugly knots, it was no wonder he fidgeted.
As Alden helped another customer, Nate let his eyes drift to the glass cases that held cut-glass jewelry and trinkets that were decades older than him. Dust covered the shelves and gathered on the polished concrete floor, but in the cases, time had stopped. Blue and black velvet cradled beaded bracelets, incense burners, ceramic mugs, and paperweights etched with the Gathos City skyline. Once or twice a month, someone asked Alden to open the cases, but they never made a purchase. Instead, they’d cradle a relic, fingering an emblem or the tiny paw of a crystal cat, and then they’d hand it back and wistfully ask for the going price of chem.
Nate crouched, studying a shiny cigarette case, when he felt the rustle of Alden’s silky robe beside him and realized everyone else had left the shop. Golden light poured in the front windows, making the thin blinds look like flames. The embroidered flowers on Alden’s robes glowed.
And his dark eyes glowed too. “Why are you here?” he asked, pulling Nate up by his collar and releasing him like he’d touched sewage.
“You know why.”
Alden let out a soft, incredulous huff of breath that carried the sticky-sweet scent of a chem tincture. “You made it clear you didn’t need me anymore.”
Nate had practiced this conversation for weeks, every rehearsal becoming more frantic as his headaches grew more frequent. He’d whispered to the ghost of their friendship as he’d crossed the Withers from Reed’s hideout back to the shop. He’d found the right words. But now, faced with the way Alden gripped his robe with bloodless knuckles, he forgot everything he’d meant to say.
“No one else has Remedy.”
“Is that so?”
Frustration rose in Nate like a curling wisp of smoke. “You know that. Tell me what I need to do. I’ll find credits.”
“You’llfindcredits.” Alden rolled his eyes. He swept his hair to the side and began to braid it. This was familiar—a sign that he was doing figures in his head. “Are they finding spare credits in the street these days, then? Along with gilded shit and sugared gull bones?”
A pang of emptiness made itself known in Nate’s chest. He’d missed the musical sound of Alden’s voice, the way his words filled the space between them.
He ducked his chin and studied Alden’s long toes where they peeked out from colorful sandals made with braided plastic. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“I thought you were done being told what to do.” Alden spoke softly now. The shop was growing dark.
“You stopped giving me a choice.” Nate forced himself to look up. Something shifted in Alden’s eyes. “I deserved a choice.”
“And you made one. You chose to leave, to live with people who can’t keep you alive. People who would grind your bones to dust and sell them by the ounce if they knew what you were.”
It was Nate’s turn to roll his eyes. “My bones are worthless, and if you knew Reed and the girls, you’d like them. They’re just trying to survive together. And they appreciate me.”
“I appreciated you.” Each syllable cut like a blade.
The weight of Alden’s arm across his chest and his breath too slow at his ear. The Diffuser, still bloodied, cast carelessly into the cushions beside them.
A shiver of revulsion ran through Nate’s body, sudden and strong enough for Alden to plainly see. Nate took a sharp step back, tripped over his own feet, and slammed his hip against the sharp corner of a display case.
Alden had gone utterly still, his fingers frozen at odd angles. He’d lost weight, and his robes hung on his thin shoulders like silk on bone. “Tell me what you’re really asking. Tell me you want Remedy for free and want to give me nothing in return. Tell me you’re willing to put my shop, my life, and my grandmother’s life at risk just by being here. Just by being what you are.”
“Alden.”
“Tell me you’re lying to the people who shelter you. Thatyourlife is worth more than the rest of us.”
All of it was true. But Nate was a coward, and the words bubbled out of him softly, a wretched admission. “I don’t want to die.” He’d never admitted it before, never let himself name the chasm of the stillness that loomed before him. Closer with every ache.
“We’reallgoing to die, Nate!” Alden shouted.
Nate braced himself against the glass counter, rattling a display of plastic beads. They clacked together like mocking laughter, and his voice tripped on the choking promise of tears. “If you don’t care, turn me in.”
Alden turned and closed the blinds, driving away the last light. He opened a small box of matches and began lighting candles. “Don’t you think I would have already?”
Nate watched Alden’s hand tremble above the flickering light of a weak flame.
“I don’t know what to do,” Nate whispered.
