I shake my head, a disorienting jumble of confusion and delight tumbling around my head. I turn my back to the bar andlean against it. Then my hand sneaks into my pocket and I pull out a delicate silver chain.
It’s simple, with a few tiny round beads dotted along it, the interconnecting links so minuscule I can barely make them out. I’m lucky I managed to swipe it from her wrist without breaking it, or without her noticing. So much for no more stealing…
Alorra.
I roll her name around my tongue again, whispering it to myself. It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t quite seem to fit her. I tilt my head, inspecting the bracelet as I contemplate her name, Alorra.
Alorra Seren.
The demon is a satisfied rumble in my chest.
A name and a stolen trinket in the same night. I resist the urge to lift it to my nose to see if I can catch any trace of her on it, and my lips quirk as I curl my fingers around the dainty bracelet. Then I drape it over my wrist and fiddle with the clasp until it snaps into place, holding my arm out to admire my newest treasure.
The rest of the shift passes with dull tedium as I work on autopilot filling drinks, wiping the bar, swiping cards, until finally I’m free. The world kicks back into focus and I make a beeline for the door.
June would be disappointed, but I don’t even try to curb the urge as I stride with single-minded determination down the sidewalk to Alorra’s apartment. I lean against a wide tree across the road, my eyes fixed on her dark window.
My leg starts to bounce when I don’t see any movement, and fire lights at my fingertips. I douse it, not wanting the light to give me away, and finger the silver chain on my wrist instead. Finally, a shadow of movement stirs behind her curtain, and I loose a breath of relief knowing she got home safe.
This knowledge, plus her bracelet against my skin, settles my inner demon and allows me to wander home with a jaunt in mystep and not even a lingering fancy about lighting anything on fire.
5
YOU DON’T EVEN LIVE HERE
August 12, 1979: I’m following in Mother’s footsteps even though I never wanted to. She always insisted that we move every few years, convinced it would delay the urge to follow the stars and keep us safe from those who would seek to use us. I don’t know if it helped, but I’m willing to try anything.
Lor
I can’t get him out of my head. That human from the bar. The one who made me the gayest purple drink I’ve ever seen and was delighted beyond comprehension when I drank it. Irritation flashes in my gut and I roll my eyes. I can’t believe it actually tasted good. I kind of want another, but hell will freeze over before I admit to it.
My thoughts trickle back to him and I pace circles around my living room. No one has caught my attention like this in ages. Perhaps ever. It doesn’t make sense. I’m going to wear a path in the already worn carpet if I don’t stop soon.
The cat seems to agree. It yowls and then darts for the window, glaring at me to let it out. I don’t blame it; I want out, too.
“Miserable creature,” I grumble, closing the window behind it and drawing the sheer curtains before I resume my pointless circling.
My brain has been turning it over and over, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why I’m so stuck on him. He’s attractive, sure, with that silver lip ring and mischievous grin. The messy hair, painted nails, and the godsdamned eyeliner.
That was the first thing I noticed, and yet…
There’s something off. He sets my instincts on alert for some reason, like something about him isn’t as it seems. Something intriguing that pulls to my darker side, despite his outward charm and endless smiling.
I don’t trust it.
And whatever this game is that he thinks we’re playing… I’m not taking part. He’s on his own.
With that final thought, I fling myself into bed.
Someone’s watching me.
I can’t shake the feeling over the next couple days, but despite my increasing paranoia and watchfulness, I don’t spot anyone. There’s no sign of someone lurking around, but the hair on my neck prickles multiple times a day, especially when I’m home alone at night. I keep the curtains drawn and have become even more of a recluse than normal, but it doesn’t seem to help.
On top of that, I’ve lost one of my bracelets. I peer under the couch for the thousandth time today, but see only dust bunnies and shadows. I’m not sure when or where I lost it, but it makesmy wrist feel uneven to have only two chains on it instead of my normal three. It was my prettiest one, too.
My hand sinks into the couch cushion as I push myself up off the floor. I go to take the cushions off it next, but the cat is perched on a pillow right in the middle.
It stares at me, not moving except for the very tip of its tail flicking back and forth. I narrow my eyes as we lock gazes. Apart from the tail flick, it doesn’t move so much as a muscle twitch.
