The tall, slick woman stepped closer, leaning into her to closely inspect Talia’s features before moving away. The smell coming from her was beyond foul. The assessment in the woman’s eyes was calculating, cruel, and searching.
Instinctively, Talia backed into the shadows. The grays slipped around her body like silk veils, cold but always comforting. The room darkened. Others might have passed it off as a trick of light or a dimming bulb, but she knew better. Enough to try to control her fear and push the gathering shadows back. It had been a long time since she’d lost control. With effort, she shrugged off the dark again.
The best place to hide was always in plain sight.
“I think you have the wrong person,” Melanie said. “I’m her roommate, and I know for a fact that she is not dating anyone right now.”
“Talia O’Brien, age twenty-six. PhD in anthropology. Her mother was Kathleen O’Brien, died at Talia’s birth from complications due to a congenital heart defect. Raised by her aunt Margaret, also deceased,” the tall man recited.
Guilt and regret stirred to life within Talia over her mother, mixing with the loss of Aunt Maggie. Aunt Maggie who had died in the car accident while Talia crept unwillingly back to life and health, alone in the world at fifteen.
The band’s noise spiraled up again to deafening.
For the memory of Aunt Maggie, Talia swallowed her fear and forced her voice over the music. “Is this a joke? ’Cause it’s not funny.”
The tall woman smiled over her shoulder. “No joke.” She lifted a plucked brow. “You know, you have very unusual eyes.”
Talia felt speared like an insect under examination. She hated when people remarked on her appearance, her eyes in particular. Exotic, Aunt Maggie had said once. But exotic was too generous. Strange would be more accurate. They tipped up a little too much at the outside. And the color had a habit of shifting with her moods. Right now they’d be as dark as her shadow.
The woman gave her a raking once-over. “What did you say your name was?”
I didn’t.
In her peripheral vision, Talia saw Mel reach down to the phone. “I’ve had enough of this,” she bit out loudly. “If this is some kind of shitty practical joke…”
Talia knew it wasn’t. This was her deepest fear realized. These horrible people knew she was different, and they were going to ruin everything. She would never find a place to belong. Not at a university. Not anywhere. Not even when all she wanted to do was bury her nose in books and bother no one.
Talia saw Melanie’s finger press 9-1-1. Help seemed ridiculous. No screaming sirens could reach them in time. Anything beyond the apartment door was worlds too far away.
In a single blink, the square man was at Mel’s side. He knocked the phone out of her hand, caught the receiver, and replaced it on the cradle. He twitched his other hand out and caught Melanie around her neck.
His mouth formed the words, “None of that,” though his voice was buried in noise.
Melanie kicked out and thrashed with her arms as her face reddened.
Oh, no. Oh, please… Talia started forward, pushing against the rise in the band’s rock.
“Let her go. I’m Talia O’Brien,” she yelled, clasping the man’s wrist to pull it away from Melanie’s throat. Sickness inundated her, intense and thick, as if her belly were filling up with hot tar. He felt rank, malevolent, and vicious.
Talia craned her head back to the man’s partner. “Tell him to stop.”
The woman smiled with edged condescension. “Ms. O’Brien. It’s my honor to serve you. My master sends his regards and looks forward to meeting you in person.” She turned to her companion. “Finish that one quickly, Grady. We need to get going.”
Grady lifted Melanie off the floor.
“Stop it!” The room was getting darker, but Talia couldn’t help it. “Put her down!” Melanie was almost purple. “Please let her go. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You’ll do that anyway,” the woman answered. “And Grady’s hungry. If he doesn’t eat now, he’ll be pestering me all the way back to stop for a little human takeout. And I can’t have that.”
Melanie’s eyes flickered back in her head like some kind of waking REM.
Talia looped her arms over Grady’s outstretched one and put her weight into pulling them both down. He would not budge. He smiled at her efforts. She kicked at him. He seemed flesh enough, but he reacted like stone.
The woman grabbed Talia’s shoulder and pulled her away with such unexpected strength that Talia stumbled backward.
“You can’t hurt him,” the woman said, “it’s useless to try.”
Talia swiped at the tears of frustration blurring her vision. Please let this be a nightmare.
Then Grady opened his mouth. Opened and opened beyond anything human. He bared his teeth, all sharply pointed and strangely extended, and pulled Melanie toward him. Mouth clamped over mouth.
Talia froze midbreath in horror. She felt a tug in her gut. A tug from a well of life and soul. Not hers, still seated snugly in her body. But an echo of Melanie’s self being ripped out, fed upon in a desecration of spirit that scored Talia’s mind and heart.