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They look at each other then. Maybe it’s worse when they’re friendly to each other. I haven’t decided yet. “You should take quite a few of your things,” Mal says. “There’s a chance they might come looking for you here and you might not be able to come back for a bit.”
I blink. “They? By they, you mean demons?”
“I mean, you make it sound ridiculous,” Mal says softly.
“I make it sound ridiculous because it is ridiculous,” I reply. “You realize that, right?”
Mal doesn’t say anything. Rei stands upright, my cat still at his feet.
My mouth dries as I look back at my living room, Bryony’s guitar balanced on the secondhand lounge chair we bought when I moved in together. “Wait. If they come for me and I’m not here, does that mean they’re going to hurt Bryony?”
“No,” Malon says, a little too quickly. I look into his eyes, which darken from seafoam green to dark emerald as he narrows them. “Obviously, I can’t guarantee anything, but I don’t think so. You’re the person they’re targeting.”
“But they know Bryony is my best friend,” I say. “Because they’ve been in your head.”
Malon doesn’t answer that. He leans against the wall, his hips barely missing a shelf where we put our keys and all the random shit we throw inside when we walk in, his lips pursed as if he’s thinking about what to say next.
“I know you’re worried about your friend, Trine,” Rei says. “But you can’t help her without helping yourself first. Once you’re no longer…”
“Possessed? Targeted?” I offer.
He waves me off. He obviously doesn’t know how to answer me. “Once you’re no longer dealing with this, you can just go back to your life, and you won’t even have to worry about protecting your friends. It won’t be something that’s on your radar.”
I look at Mal. “This might shock you, but I’m with him. What do they say on planes about putting your own oxygen on first? It’s like that. Except with demons.”
“Right,” I say. I’m not really convinced, but I know it’s pointless to argue about this. “Can you two just wait here? I’ll be back in a few minutes. Make yourselves at home.”
“Okay,” Rei says.
Mal shrugs as Dee Dee stares at him, his grey ears up and tense as he looks at Mal again. I walk away from them, toward my bedroom, and close the door softly behind myself. The room feels familiar, at least. The bed is half-made, throw pillows scattered over it. It smells a little stale, but I can identify the aroma of weed and vanilla-scented incense.
I walk over to my bed, straightening the duvet under myself before I sit down on it. Even looking at my closet doors is slightly unfamiliar, the white paint darkened with dust.
I should get up and get my suitcase so I can start packing. I don’t.
I lay back on the bed, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan. My eyes water as I look at it, my limbs heavy. My bass is so close to me that I can easily reach out and touch it, but I don’t.
This apartment is usually so loud. Bryony isn’t particularly quiet and we’re always making noise together. Something about the silence feels unnerving.
I close my eyes and lean my head back on the mattress, flexing my feet as the bed under me feels like it rocks. I’m not on solid ground anymore, but this doesn’t make my heart race.
There’s something comforting about this.
Whatever this is, I want to fold into it. I only want to exist in this.
In the distance, I can hear someone softly strumming a guitar. It sounds like it’s out of tune. I should probably go fix that.
That seems more important than packing a bag right now.
My feet feel heavy as I walk to the living room. Malon has Bryony’s guitar on his lap. Rei is glaring at him from the other side of the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrow behind his black-rimmed glasses.
“Let me tune that for you,” I say.
“I don’t really play,” he says. “I was just messing around.”
“It’s fine,” I reply. “Let me do it anyway.”
“Alright,” he says, handing the guitar to me. It’s shiny wood, covered in faded stickers. I grab it by the neck and sit on the carpeted floor in front of me.
