She took her horse to the apothecary, no wagon in tow. I was sure she would make some excuse about forgetting something, but I wanted to see what she was truly up to. My shadow was most comfortable moving at night, and the company of others was not always what she needed.
Little Edith went to work early. Phoebe was busy managing the Nest in Alina’s absence, and the rest of the town was coziedup in their homes. There was not a single soul to bother us when I inevitably caught her between my teeth.
The town transformed under night cover. It was a shame that not many stayed awake to enjoy it. Most ventured more toward the center, where the lights were bright and entertainment kept everyone distracted through the night. It was a time when the snow was the fluffiest, the air free of fumes, and the stars could be seen following the moon across the sky until dawn.
I watched as the singular, gloomy light appeared in the window above the shop, her shadow fluttering about as it passed the candle.
My teeth ached at the thought of her, my heart trembled at the memories of her touch. It was like my soul craved her far more than any food on earth could sustain. I wanted to have all of her, as much as she would let me, or as much as I couldtake.
When I opened the front door, it creaked eerily as I reached up to mute the bell, closing it quietly behind me. She had forgotten to lock it on her way in.
Or hadshe forgotten? Was this an invitation?
How foolish, though I suppose it would be more idiotic to assume a simple lock would keep me out.
As I ascended the stairs, I did not hear much movement in the flat above. My steps were careful as I reached the door at the top. It was intimidating, the stair corridor long and narrow, leading to that single door. It was claustrophobic, but maybe it was because I was holding my breath.
As I opened the door, I was finally able to see the lab she spent all her time in. Those same two windows I stalked from the outside were on the wall directly in front of me, a workbench off to the side, along with some cabinets.
On the other side was a blank wall, but it was obvious it was not left unused. The walls were stained brown, and soot-likesmudges were left on the walls despite obvious attempts at scrubbing them.
The wood floors were unfinished, stained a color that could only be described as a logbook of victims to get that specific shade of char.
Speaking of the color of char, there was a curious image before me. My dear shadow with her knees to her chest, curled up. Her head tipped back, resting against the wall. Beside her, a bottle.
Still a drunk, I see.
Though as I approached, my cheery state was dampened when I saw her poison of choice.
On the floor next to her was an empty syringe next to the tall, corked bottle. It seemed she had progressed past simple spirits.
As I crouched in front of her, I was able to see her peaceful face. I do not think she had ever been this serene. Her eyes were moving under her lids as she dreamed, as though she were asleep.
I placed a hand on either side of her face, tipping it up straight. She drifted into one of my hands, cheek creased as she slumped into it.
“Alina,” I hummed, “dreaming of something?”
Her eyes opened, looking at me through her mismatched lashes before her eyes rolled back into her head.
Why wasn’t she fighting?
I removed my gloves and forced her face upright. Her skin was clammy, and I didn’t need a keen sense of touch to feel her shaking, clumsy like a newborn cat.
She smelled different. Not bad, just different—which was usually bad. Her typical sweet scent was dampened, watered down, exhausted. It was like a fever, depleted of the things that make her vibrant.
My giddy mood fell flat when I realized how far she was gone. It was like she left her body. This was not like her at all. The AlinaI knew would have thrown something at me by now, clawed at my eyes,something.
“Alina.”
She moaned timidly before letting out a breath, slowly slumping to the side before I caught her, placing her back into an upright sitting position.
Her eyes opened again, but this time they stayed open. A cryptic smile played on her lips when she saw me, her fingers reaching out and touching my face. The nonabrasive gesture concerned me above all else.
I took a long look at her, this unfamiliar thing before me. Her condition made my chest tight, my grip on her tighter as if she were fading before my eyes.
“Are you awake?” I whispered.
“I’m alive?” She reached out to touch me, her cold fingers making me shiver.
