Page 6
She really was here.
The bartender waves a hand in front of my face. “Hey.”
I blink and force myself to look at him. “Sorry. I just…”
“Listen, gorgeous, if you came for the floor show, I’m going to need an invitation.” Grabbing a towel, he starts drying a glass. His gaze flicks to my screen, then back to me. “But if you came looking for trouble, you found the right place.”
“N-no, I’m just—”
“Looking for someone. Yeah.” He sets the glass down. “You want my advice? Get the hell out of here. This place belongs to people you don’t want noticing you, and they already have.”
What do you mean? I want to ask.
But my gaze lifts on instinct, toward the suspended ring of pale gold and the darkness above it. I can’t make out a face, only the certainty that someone is there, watching me without moving.
Suddenly, the bartender’s warning feels a lot more urgent. My heart kicks harder as I drag my gaze back to him and fumble for my holoscreen.
“Please.” The word comes out too fast as I shove the photo toward him. “Have you ever seen this woman?”
He doesn’t look, just lifts a hand before I can turn the screen fully toward him. “No, pretty boy. Whatever it is you want to show me, don’t.”
“But p-perhaps—”
He leans in, half-amused on the surface, but his eyes are alert now. “You’re in the wrong place, darling. Trust me. Water’s on the house.”
And just like that, he drifts off, leaving me with the back of my neck prickling as goosebumps rise hard over my arms.
He’s right. Someone is watching. I can feel it now with sick certainty, standing at the bar with my pulse climbing higher and higher, every instinct telling me I’ve already made a mistake.
Light, Rowan. What are you doing?
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to come in, show the photo, ask a few questions, and leave before anyone noticed I was here. Instead, somehow, I’ve managed to do the exact opposite.
Around me, the music keeps playing. Glass clinks somewhere to my left, and people keep talking like nothing has changed, but suddenly the whole room feels wrong. And the second I look up, I regret it.
From down here, the first floor is mostly shadow, but not enough to hide the figures leaning along the railing above the recessed floor.
One of them pushes away from the darkness and starts toward the stairs. A sharp, sick certainty tears through me: if I don’t get the hell out of here right now, that person is coming for me.
Move. Get to safety.
I should never have come here. Never left intake. Never come alone.
I turn too fast and clip my shoulder on the edge of the door, hissing a curse. The cold hits like a slap, and I’m across the street before I even realize I’m running. By the time I hear the door swing shut behind me, my heart is slamming so hard it hurts, but I don’t dare stop walking.
It’s all inside your head, I tell myself. Who would leave a party to follow you through dark streets?
But even the rain, needling down hard enough to sting my face and turn the street slick and black under the lights, can’t quiet my mind.
My coat is useless. Within seconds I’m wet through and shivering hard enough that my teeth knock together.
I came all this way chasing a what if, and now I’m standing out here drenched, my medical band vibrating against my wrist. The warning pulse means my heart rate is climbing again, creeping toward the point where everything starts to go wrong.
I need to get back. I need to find Damaris.
Rounding the corner, I nearly slip.
That’s when I hear it.
