Dance in Shadow and Whisper (Marionettes of Myth #1)

Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

If they were anything like the average suburban demon, then Kali and her two fathers would probably be taking the stairs-down all twenty-five floors. For someone such as Kali, with her muscle density, twenty-five flights of stairs was only a warm-up to real cardio.

Yuuhi watched as the three of them vanished around the corner, until all he had to stare at was the hallway of identical doors. He pushed away from the frame of his own doorway and stepped to the apartment straight across from his. He didn't even knock. The handle was unlocked, the deadbolt unsealed. He pushed the door open and a cloud of cigarette smoke flooded his senses. One of his hands waved to dispel the acrid fog as he said, "You know, there's no smoking in this building, or any building. It's officially a law now."

A single man leaned against the wall of the foyer, his hands buried in the pockets of his leather bomber, eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses that sat low on cheekbones that could cut a man. His shoulders raised with a chuckle, white teeth showing in a wide grin as he parted with the cancer stick. Smoke poured from his lips as he asked, "Did you really just use up the breath to tell me that?"

"I don't want to deal with my neighbor who actually lives here, because he'll smell it when he returns from managing his little grocery store and he'll call in the National Guard. Did you at least get what you came for?"

He shifted his weight to his feet and stepped into the light flooding in from the open door, the gentle glow highlighting the unnatural black of his I-don't-give-a-fuck scruffy hair. He bullied Yuuhi into the hall and peered down the corridor where Kali had disappeared.

"I did."

#

I felt like I could eat for days, so when Rajy caved and took us to a Pittsburgh exclusive deli, I fell over in my seat from pure joy. I had to keep my head low in our unfamiliar, simple silver Honda Civic-which was also a clean air vehicle, unsurprisingly. My father wouldn't settle for anything less anymore. The cabin had the 'new car smell' of chemicals and crisp leather, and the seatbelt clung to my body like a noose.

Lio had to go inside the deli. Rajy sat with the car to the curb and watched the traffic and the bobbing heads of pedestrians pass us by. Slouched across the backseat, my head below the windows, I wasn't allowed to talk yet, either. Concealing me required so many safety precautions that I found myself beginning to truly doubt if I was really the scapegoat.

Lio hopped back into the car. The compact space filled with the aroma of french fries and cheese and steak and coleslaw and-ugh, sardines. Still, I wasn't allowed to talk. Only hide.

It was a long drive through the city with me sprawled across the leather and jolting with every crease and pebble in the concrete. The towering buildings peeked into the car above me, and I wondered if any of the hidden faces in those glass eyes saw me trying to hide.

The incandescent rainbow lights of the glowy-glowy animated advertisements felt like a spotlight, hot on my face and turning all the attention onto me with the way the slender model bodies posed for me, watched me, and smiled for me with a world of secrets in their eyes. The neon fingers of light climbed into the window, invaded every corner of the cabin. Even in broad daylight, the sparkle and shimmer of paint-splatter lights and words and beautiful faces and spotlighted products eliminated any sense of privacy.

I could see why Solara would love the city. It throbbed with the same life that our own hearts did. It breathed and moved, constantly warring for my attention as if I were the only person on the street, the only person this shampoo product was made for. Solara would like that.

But I just simply couldn't ignore the sensation of lying naked for everything to see.

I opted to shut my eyes instead. All I had to focus on was the lumpy street beneath me, how fast we moved, when we slowed to a stop, and when Rajy had to slam on the brakes because 'City drivers are a reckless lot of pretentious prats.'