As someone else was brought over, Lyric stared out from her private abyss, and talked about nothing, and smiled when she was supposed to.
This time, when the flash went off, she blinked hard.
And thought about what her brother, Rhamp, was doing right now. He and Shuli, and all the other fighters, were not standing around posing for pictures. When a bright light went off around them, it was because they’d stabbed one of thelesserswho hunted and killed vampires, and sent the fucker(s) back to their maker.
Their brilliant flashes were a sign they’d won a battle, saved a civilian, made a difference.
Done something courageous and worthwhile—
“Andhere, Lyric, before westartthings, you have tomeet—”
Marcia shoved another person in for advance photos, an interviewer with some kind of podcast, who was followed by another influencer with “aninsaneamount of followers”—
And that was when Lyric caught sight of a familiar face. Over by the emergency exit.
A shy, reserved, familiar face attached to a lanky body garbed in just Levi’s and a t-shirt, in spite of the cold.
“Oh, Allhan!” Lyric broke out of a four-person lineup. “Hi!”
“Wait,what?” Marcia demanded. “Whereare yougoing—”
“Hey!” As she rushed over to the male, her smile was an honest one.That she hoped wasn’t as desperate as she feared it might be. “What are you doing here?”
Allhan looked at the floor, and even in the dark blue light, she could see the flush race up his thin neck and bloom in his hollow face.
“I mean, I’m so glad you came.” She touched his arm. “I’m just surprised, is all. This is not your usual kind of place.”
As a pretrans, Allhan was about twenty-five years old according to the human calendar—no one was sure exactly when his birthday was, not even him—but he was as scrawny as a twelve-year-old human kid. And then there was the frizzy dark hair. No matter what the season, it was like he’d rubbed a balloon on the crown of his head in the middle of winter and done nothing about the static electricity.
Then again, the guy was live-wire smart. Maybe he actually had straight hair and the heat generated by all that IQ was what had permed up all his—
“Whatare youdoing?” Marcia stepped in between them. “Youneedto be back there—”
“Oh, it’s okay, I’m just saying hi. This is my friend.”
Marcia’s narrowed eyes did an up-and-down on the male, and somehow her wooden expression was more of an insult than if she’d said the words she was clearly thinking:
Less than. Not worth the effort.
Forgettable.
“That’s justgreat.” The woman linked arms with Lyric and started walking away. “That’swonderful. Welovefriends, justnotright now.”
As Lyric threw out her anchor, she wondered whether, if it had been her brother or, like, Shuli, for godsakes, things would bedifferent.But of course they would.
“You need to give me a minute—”
“No,now. This iswork.”
“Let me at least say goodbye.” She turned back around. “Listen, Allhan—”
He was gone, the emergency door just shutting.
Lyric put her hands to her face, and felt like screaming. “Hold on, Marcia. I have to go say—”
“You don’t need to worry about the likes ofthat.”
Later, much later, Lyric would know that it all really started at that moment, with that one syllable, spoken in that tone. Something just snapped.
