Splice stepped inside and turned to her. “I did drink water. But thinking of you did more to steady me than anything else.”
Goldie’s smile softened. “I thought about you too.” She paused, her voice dropping. “You and me.”
He moved closer, heat radiating off him. One finger tilted her chin until their eyes met, and then he kissed her softly.
“I’m looking forward to tonight, of course,” he murmured. “But more than that, I look forward to what comes after, when this is done. When we can figure out what we’re becoming.”
The space between them sparked with the weight of quiet hope. All her defenses, all her frenetic sparkle and breezy jokes, melted away into something warm, tender, new, and real.
“Me too,” she whispered.
Maeve’s indignant meow rang out from the hallway, perfectly timed.About time.Try not to ruin the mattress before dinner.
Oberon padded forward, sniffed Splice’s boots with the solemnity of a customs inspector, then dropped into a theatrical sprawl at his feet.Tell him to remember my ears. And belly. Belly scritches are essential.
Goldie snorted and rubbed a hand over her face. “Gods, you two are impossible.” She grabbed her phone off the counter, checking for messages. “Tamsin wants us there around eleven-thirty, so we’ve got some time.”
A real smile bloomed across her face.“Normally I’d say let’s have another round of fantastic sex, but we should probably save our energy for the main event.”
“Agreed,” Splice said solemnly.
“So instead, I nominate a bad movie.The Happening.A very serious cautionary tale about plants making people kill themselves. Truly, high art.”
A tiny smile tugged at Splice’s mouth. He followed her to the couch, settling beside her. “Will it make me angry?”
“Oh, probably. But that’s part of the experience.”
She curled into him, their limbs folding into each other with a newfound ease, and pressed play on the remote. The movie’s wooden dialogue and escalating nonsense began to flicker across the screen.
Splice watched with solemn focus as the plot unraveled. “They fear the trees?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Not just the trees, The grass. The shrubs. The potted philodendron you forgot to water. It’s basically lawn-care propaganda.”
The film’s absurdity rolled on. Goldie leaned her head against Splice’s shoulder. He shifted slightly, then settled his arm around her in a quiet embrace. The movie ended with on-screen newscasters speculating about “nature’s warning,” before the final cut to Paris, where the madness began all over again.
Splice tilted his head as the credits rolled over a triumphant, synth-heavy score. “Humans misunderstand plants. If they truly wished harm, there would be no ambiguity about it.”
“And on that terrifying note,” Goldie said, clicking the television off, “I humbly beg forgiveness of every houseplant I’ve ever owned.”
The quiet hum of the apartment returned, thick with unspoken weight. Goldie glanced at her phone. 11:00 p.m.
“It’s time,” she said softly.
Splice nodded. He rose from the couch and offered her a hand. She took it, his fingers cool and firm around hers, and let him pull her to her feet.
As they walked hand-in-hand down the corridor, Greymarket Towers seemed to breathe with them. The lights in the brass sconces warmed, bathing Goldie in a soft, golden glow. The wallpaper on the walls rustled faintly, a sound like whispered encouragement.
They stepped out of the main entrance into the cool night air of Bellwether. Splice didn’t offer platitudes, didn’t tell her it would be all right. Instead, he simply squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing slow, soothing patterns onto the back of her hand.
The quiet, tree-lined streets of Bellwether gave way to the wilder edge of the Green Holdings. The moment they crossedonto the perimeter path, the shift was immediate. Civilization sloughed off like old skin. Sidewalks gave way to mossy dirt. Street lamps flickered once and went out. Even the air changed, thickening.
Strips of red police tape fluttered limply in the breeze. Faded ward sigils shimmered along the iron gate, their edges pulsing faintly blue. Municipal magic, old and functional, meant to lock the land down and keep everything inside inert.
Goldie stopped short. “Oh, shit. This is still a crime scene.”
Splice looked from the gate to her. “Yes. Did you forget?”
Goldie groaned and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “There’s been alotgoing on the past few days, okay? Ritual prep. Murder investigation. Multiple life-altering orgasms. I got distracted.”
