“I—” There was a strangled sound, and then Clayton said, ”I wish I knew. One minute, I’m in the bath, and the next, the shadow in the corner started ringing, so I answered.”
The desperate hunger in Mal’s core faded into the background, and he laughed. The entire plane went silent and still, like a nest of mice hoping they wouldn’t be next as long as they didn’t catch a wandering predator’s attention as it passed by.
Mal didn’t have to wear a disguise while out among the norms. They didn’t see his differences from a normal human, because they didn’t want to see them. They could barely stand to look at him. Mal could have a massive tail and he’d likely be able to walk down a busy street in broad daylight without incident.
If it weren’t for the Guard, Mal would probably do it, too. They didn’t like his kind very much, though, and were far more likely to try to kill him first without bothering to ask questions.
Mal didn’t blame them. His kind sucked beyond the telling, and Mal gleefully treated them the same way the Guard did every chance he got.
“A shadow, huh?” Mal prodded. He couldn’t say he was surprised. His magic made it so he could contact anyone he’d met before, whether they had a phone on them or not. There was also a small compulsion attached to the call, so the recipient would be forced to answer whether they wanted to or not.
He imagined Clayton sitting in the tub, desperately trying to ignore the shadow ringing in the corner of his bathroom, and a grin broke out across his face. If anyone on the plane had dared to glance at him at that moment, their hair would have turned as white as Mal’s from witnessing the inhuman display of razor-sharp teeth in a mouth far wider than it should be.
The hint of purple to his skin could be explained away by someone who wanted to believe he was a normal human, but his shark-like teeth were a stretch too far.
If he wasn’t on a plane, he might have tried to hide his smile, but nothing short of a high-level dreamwalker could give him a challenge, and they wouldn’t be able to board a plane without shorting the entire thing out, let alone fly inside one.
Mal’s magic was special, just like him. One of a kind.
Mal was the only member of the Other on the plane right now—if he didn’t count the woman with latent magic in the back. And since she didn’t have a chance in hell of clocking him, Mal didn’t give a shit who saw his teeth.
It wasn’t like she’d be able to see him all the way from coach anyway. Mal stretched his legs to their full length in his large, comfy, first-class cubicle, and he leaned back to enjoy Clayton’s reaction to his provocation.
He was about to break in on the tirade Clayton had worked himself into about how even in the Other, shadows shouldn’t ring, and did he have any idea what time it was, and what kind of decent person makes shadows do inappropriate things so late in the evening, when Mal heard the sound of water sliding across smooth skin and dripping down onto floor tiles.
Mal had always had excellent hearing.
For a split-second, Mal’s ever-persistent hunger was drowned out by a completely different kind of hunger. This one also involved the tearing of delicate skin with teeth and claws in order to slake his hunger, but the desired outcome wasn’t the death of his victim.
“Are you naked right now?” Mal asked without thinking.
“Am Iwhat? What kind of pervert calls up perfectly respectable strangers in the middle of the night to ask them if they’re naked? I’m hanging up now.” There was an awkward cough, and then Clayton muttered, “Once I figure out how to hang up a shadow, that is.”
Annoying and enchanting, just like Mal remembered.
“Maybe if I shine a light on it… Shit, my hand! No worries, I’m fine. Just a small incident…”
Clayton was one giant walking incident as far as Mal was concerned, and his area of effect was far larger than Mal previously imagined.
After some scuffling and the sound of a spell patch being ripped open, Clayton sighed. “Ok, fine. I don’t know how to hang up a shadow, so why don’t you tell me what you want, mystery pervert, so I can get ready for bed in peace.”
Mystery pervert? “It’s Mal.”
“What’s Mal?”
“Me.I’mMal.” Had Clayton forgotten him so quickly? It had only been six weeks since they’d parted in Boston. Most folk couldn’t forget Mal in a hundred years, even if they wanted to, and Clayton had forgotten Mal in a span of weeks. If he’d even waited that long.
Well, fuck him.
“Do you get a lot of random people asking you if you’re naked?” Mal asked. He’d almost entirely forgotten the reason for the phone call in the first place.
“Hmm…”
Was Clayton tallying up the numbers? Had he forgotten Mal because he was too busy fending off perverts left and right?
Hmph.
“Oh, sorry, I forgot to respond because I was busy researching how much audacity a person could contain before they died. By my calculations, you should be popping off any minute now.”
