Audrey’s hand was unsteady as she took it. “Thanks. For tonight.”
Skyler didn’t ask why Audrey was here, and that should have bothered her more than it did. At least the former inmate hadn’t left her on the curb.
Audrey dragged the smoke deep enough to hurt. The inhale hit too hard, and her lungs contracted before the release came. She coughed.
“I got something stronger,” Skyler said.
Audrey exhaled the smoke slowly. Her lungs felt pinned under a boulder. More thoughts passed through the walls. She sensed everything in the building, the voices layering until she couldn’t finish one before another shoved in.
Where’s my phone?
Don’t forget…
I should leave…
Each one slid over the other, indistinct until they weren’t.
Then his aura tangled with hers again. The distinct sensation of another mind digging at and testing the locks she’d set made her jolt. The killer was intentionally searching rather than leaking. Their connection went two ways, though, and he had an urgency inside him: a determination so strong it could’ve been an obsession. Audrey tried to shut him out, but he pushed harder, as if he was prepared for the resistance, like he already knew what he would find.
Before she could examine it further, he was gone.
Audrey became still. If another telepath—if the killer—wanted in right now, they wouldn’t have to try very hard. It was a precarious situation to be in.
She took a deep breath. “Tell me about this job,” Audrey said.
“The club is easy money. You work three or four nights a week.”
“Doing what?”
Skyler smirked. “You know.”
Audrey knew what she needed: cash, a bed, somewhere off the grid. If Alex was gone, whatever had defended her from the world was gone, too. She was exposed and out of control. Staying open meant she might lose control again. Paranoia, while not baseless, threatened to choke her. She needed a plan. At least enough to get off the radar and regain control of her powers long enough to identify who was searching for her and why. Until then, she just had to survive.
“I’ll take something stronger.”
Skyler nodded and disappeared down the hall.
Alone, Audrey let the tears come—relief and despair mingling as they fell, swift and soundless. The urge to break something overwhelmed her. Anything to force her back to the monotony of prison, where emotions had boundaries.
But prison wouldn’t give her what she wanted. It wouldn’t undo the fire. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
Skyler returned with a zippered pouch, and Audrey’s body reacted before her mind did.
Crypt. A synthetic depressant first made in Tolusa’s government labs, now trafficked mainly on the black market. The fact that Skyler had some was impressive; possessing it was a felony, but Audrey was grateful. Crypt’s effects were quick and effective, silencing telepathic noise for a few hours in exchange for addiction and a loss of self-control.
Her aura contracted in response, anticipation winding into anxiety. Relief waited on the other side, but so did self-loathing. She hated how addiction's promise blended with fear and desire.
“Scared of needles?”
“No.” The answer came automatically.
Skyler held out the syringe. Audrey stared at it. This was the moment, however small, where she could still say “no.” Her mind floated to that first haze years ago in prison, when the incessant noise quieted after the burn merged into tingles. She remembered telling herself she could stop then, too.
“Just tonight,” Audrey whispered more to herself than Skyler. The lie came easily.
It always did.
She pushed the needle in, letting the prick sting her, followed by the bliss. It poured through her almost immediately.
