“And this girl,” said Gremma, nodding at Riley, “and that art guy.”
“We’re all working together,” said Dee, the words tumbling out of her. “It’s temporary—a two-year contract. But it’s screwed up and dangerous, and Cora thinks we’re fighting angels, but I think we’re fighting an eldritch abomination but I’m not sure, and Cal died, and Riley needs a place to stay.”
Gremma shook her head. “And I thought you were a drug runner.”
Dee laughed, and it felt like a release. “It’d probably be safer.”
Gremma’s mouth puckered up, as if in thought, and she nodded at Riley. “All right, then. I’ll go to the dorm mom and tell her I need a tampon or something—you take her in the back.”
“Thank you,” said Dee, unable to hide how grateful she felt.
They went up the stairs, going barefoot so as not to leave muddy footprints. Dee veered into the bathrooms first and gestured for Riley to follow.
Riley hesitated.
“Come on,” said Dee. “We both need a shower. Everyone’ll be doing homework or something. No one will even notice that you don’t live here.”
With a little doubtful sigh, Riley walked into the bathroom and began stripping off her muddied clothing.
Dee stepped into an adjacent stall and twisted the water on full, not bothering to get undressed first. Head bowed, she watched swirls of brown circle the drain. Then she began pulling at her sodden clothing.
It wasn’t easy, getting undressed in an already-running shower. She tugged at her shirt. Working the buttons free took far longer than it should have, her fingers clumsy with cold and exhaustion.
As she worked, she heard a soft sound.
A tiny sob. Muffled, as if someone had pressed their hand to their mouth.
“Are you okay?” Dee asked, loudly, above the sound of the shower.
“I’m fine,” Riley’s voice snapped out.
Dee went back to working on her clothes.
Riley had a backpack with her and clean pajamas, and soon the two girls were sitting on the floor of room 209. Gremma was perched on her bed—a box of tampons next to her.
Dee explained things. About the demons, about her theory, about the knitted hearts being the only thing keeping them alive, about the voids, about the giant thing made of human body parts—
“Holy shit,” said Gremma. “That’swhat they do with them? I thought they ate them or something.”
—and how those homunculi were sent into the voids to destroy them. About the duffel bags full of river rocks and C-4. (“Okay,” said Riley, “now that part could be fun. I like explosions.”) About how the Daemon seemed to be an oddity among his kind, tearing the hearts from teenagers rather than building creatures without a heart. About Cal. And lastly, about Cora’s desire to stop the demon.
Riley listened while Gremma insisted on feeling for Dee’s wrist.
“You don’t have a pulse,” said Gremma.
“I told you,” replied Dee. “No heart.”
“That’s… well,” said Gremma. “Think about it. You’re, like, frozen in time or something. But you’re still breathing, why are you still breathing?” She pressed a hand to Dee’s forehead, as if trying to take her temperature. “Maybe it’s habit. Are you still eating? Peeing?”
“Pretty sure being heartless doesn’t come with a fever,” said Dee, scooting back. “And, yes. Although it’s none of your business, I have been doing both.” Her eyes fell to the tampon box. “I haven’t had a period since then, though.”
“Okay,” said Gremma, “now that’s a perk I want.”
After Dee thought she had explained everything that Riley needed to know, she made her a bed out of blankets and pillows on the floor. “Thanks for letting me stay here tonight,” said Riley. “I’ve got a few other friends I can ping tomorrow, see if they wouldn’t mind me crashing.”
Dee climbed into bed and pulled her own covers up, shivering slightly. Her phone buzzed.
She let out a breath of relief when she saw the familiar name.
