Page 72 of Plain Sight

“Fuck off,” the second voice says.

Another earthquake.

“—power of attorney?” the first voice asks. So charming for legal talk.

“Me,” Mason answers. “And Lily. The paperwork⁠—”

There’s something cool on my arm. Evaporating.

“It’s Mom and Dad, see?” Remy’s seven-year-old voice says.

Earthquake.

“—won’t stop screaming.”

Earthquake.

“Jameson. Wake⁠—”

Earthquake.

The apartment stops moving, but I’m still rocking. Like a pendulum. Like the inside of a clock. Slow. That isn’t a second. Time doesn’t work like that. It’s faster. It turns into syrup, then judders to normal speed. Sunny. A good day for the pool. I have never been so calm. Somebody drums their fingers on my arm like they’re playing the piano. If there’s a needle, I don’t feel it. Have they done it yet? Have they done it yet? Have they⁠—

A tug at my hand wakes me up.

It’s not Lily. It’s someone smaller, with a pudgy, almost-baby hand.

“Hi.” A tiny voice. “Hi. You’re sleeping.” It sounds like you seeping. “Hi.”

This time, when I open my eyes, there’s no earthquake.

Hades’s daughter looks at me from a weird perspective. Like she’s taller than me.

“Hi,” she says again, and pulls harder on my hand. “You’re sleeping.”

Daisy has her little stuffed cat tucked into one elbow. She readjusts it to press it under her nose. Something’s different about her.

“Up,” she orders.

I sit up and rub my eyes, because it’s bright, and her eyes are blue. So blue.

Oh. That’s weird.

With me sitting up, we’re face to face. She studies me from behind her plush cat, and then her eyes crinkle like she’s grinning.

“You’re sleeping,” she says again, her eyes wide.

“I don’t think I can wake up.”

“No. You’re see. Ing.”

“Seeing?” I point at my eyes.

“Seeing,” she says, then lets go of my hand and pats my cheek. “Look.” Her Ls sound like Ws. “I love it.” I wub it.

“Love what?”

“Look.”