Laughter bubbled down the steps from above, echoing off the tile walls. Indigo drew the shadows around her and hid as a pair of college-aged women passed her, descending into the station. She ought to follow them, ought to have followed Selene, but she couldn’t imagine herself jammed onto public transportation right now. Not when she had another way home.
She felt as if she were falling, and for once she let herself go. Her body knew where it wanted to be, her unconscious mind did the work for her. She slipped from the gloomy subway stairwell to a pool of darkness outside her own apartment, where the landing light had burned out, and Indigo became Nora again.
Her key was already in her hand.
The door opened and swung inward with a creaking of hinges, and Nora stepped inside, staring at the little studio as if every solid thing were now in doubt. This was her apartment, okay, but who the hell was she, really?
And if the woman who’d kicked the shit out of her had really been a Phonoi assassin, then why hadn’t she finished Indigo off when she had the chance?
Nora’s mind had already been reeling, but now she was more confused than ever.
What is happening to me?
She paused a moment to listen, as if she expected Indigo to answer. As if Indigo weren’t just herself, cloaked in shadows. Her gaze fell on the cats’ bowls lined up in the tiny kitchen. Where were the Assholes? She remembered wondering last night, before she’d rushed up to Shelby’s apartment and then … blacked out, or whatever, until she came back to awareness at work this morning. What kind of person was she if she didn’t even take care of the three animals she’d adopted? Maybe I’m not a person at all, she thought, and that was so terrible that she shut the thought down completely.
Nora forced herself to search. She was aware that despite all the people she—No, Indigo!—had killed in the warehouse, she would feel that she had gone past the point of no return if she had killed Red, Hyde, and Kelso. With shaking hands she began to move items around, looking for the cats. She even lifted her mattress, which was crazy. But she’d gone far beyond crazy, now.
Then she heard a little noise. It was undeniably a cat noise, and she even recognized that it came from Hyde. She sagged with relief. With faltering steps she followed the sound to the tiny galley kitchen. The storage space below the cooktop had a sliding door. Now that she was right in front of it, she could hear scratching. Nora slid the door open, and three insane cats rushed out in the blink of an eye.
A light was on inside, which was so strange that Nora knelt to check it out. Flashlights. She’d stuffed the cats in the storage space on top of her pots and pans, and she’d put two flashlights in with them. One was burned out, but the other still glowed weakly. No wonder she had scratch marks on her hands. She couldn’t believe she’d done this.
Nora sank to the floor in the cramped space. The shadows, she thought. I was afraid the shadows would get them. How long did they spend in there? The Assholes were in a semicircle by their water bowl, lapping steadily, but keeping their eyes fixed on her. They were deeply suspicious, and rightly so.
“I’m really me,” she said, and Red spat at her and backed away. She found tears were running down her cheeks. They were assholes, but they were hers, after all. How could she save them from herself? Would it be more humane to keep them and pray she didn’t hurt them? Or should she open the window onto the fire escape and let them make their own way in the cruel world? They would starve and get ill, with no one to watch out for them. Sam was allergic to cats, and Shelby didn’t want them.
These cats are not the most important problem I face. She knew that was true. But this was the only commitment she’d made that she hadn’t failed at. She’d been horrible to Sam. She’d run out of her job. Who knew if they’d trust her again? Nora glanced at the clock on the wall. From the light coming through the window, it was still daytime. It wasn’t even three in the afternoon. Shelby didn’t usually come back to her place until at least six thirty, sometimes later. The fashion industry was demanding.
Nora got to her feet with some effort. The cats backed away as far as they could. She made pathetic amends by giving them some kibble and sharing out a can of fish-flavored smelly stuff on top of each mound of hard food. After a long moment of staring at her, the three glided to their bowls and began to eat, still keeping a close watch on her.
Aching from the beating the psycho bitch with the ice-cold eyes had given her, she lay down on the sofa and fell asleep.
Sometime later, she woke to the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside her door. Shelby, she thought hopefully, though it might be the man who lived on the fourth floor. She went into the tiny bathroom, washed her face and brushed her hair, the mirror reflecting a face that was surprisingly normal. Her hair covered a cut on her neck and some bruises, and her clothes covered the rest.
She tried a smile. Well, no. That’s a dead giveaway. But it felt good, felt everyday, to plan to walk up the stairs to see her friend. She had to decide what she could share with Shelby, what story line she could piece together out of the confusion. By the time she knocked on Shelby’s door, she still hadn’t made up her mind.
To Nora’s relief, the door opened almost immediately. Shelby looked delighted to see her, and that made Nora feel even better.
“Come in! Hey, I was going to come down to talk to you. Want to go out to Desiderio’s tonight?”
Nora stepped inside. Shelby’s apartment made Nora’s look like a dump, not because Shelby had more money to decorate, but because she had a decorating talent that had completely passed Nora by. Shelby could even make a straight-backed chair picked up from the curb look good.
Nora sat down gratefully. “Did you win the lottery today? Because I didn’t hear that on TV.” Desiderio’s, three blocks away, was not terribly expensive, but neither of them had much extra money.
“The old fart gave me a raise.” Shelby’s smile broke out like the sun after a storm.
Nora was so pleased to hear good news that she almost started crying again. “That’s wonderful! What triggered this generosity?”
“I saved his bacon,” Shelby said smugly. “His little assistant figured the amount it would cost to make a dress wrong. We would have been in the hole by a hundred thousand dollars if we’d gone with that estimate. But little old me can do basic math, and I caught it.”
“What happened to the little assistant?” Shelby called each handsome young thing who came to work at the fashion house by this slighting term.
“Not enough. But it’s okay, since I got a raise and a regal nod.”
“Cool. Okay! Desiderio’s it is! You ready?”
“Let me freshen up. Be ready in two.”
Soon they were clattering down the stairs, and Nora went past her own apartment with extra speed.
“The landing light is out,” Shelby said. “You need to tell Mr. Carriker.”