Chapter 26
Periwinkle
Here I am taking a perfectly innocent stroll down the city street. With my hands tucked in the pockets of my leather jacket, I amble along as if I’m simply enjoying the balmy spring weather and taking in the sights through the shop windows.
What a delightful tower of shoes! Let me pause and take a closer look.
And how about those pictures of burgers and fries, with colors so vivid you’d think they were radioactive? They’re worth gazing at for a moment or two.
The slower I saunter, the more likely Viscera will notice I’m back in town and decide to strike up a conversation. Or pelt me with cars. I’m still not sure whether the warped higher shadowkind’s reasons for asking about me by name were friendly or hostile.
She was asking for me, though, so I’m giving this bait thing my best shot. I should be reasonably eye-catching with my turquoise hair uncovered and my current sundress striped with an it-should-clash-but-doesn’t combo of green and neon pink.
I just can’t help feeling incredibly self-conscious with every step I take.
That’s fine. I can grin and bear it so we’ll finally get this destructive maniac subdued.
And if she does start hurling cars at me, I’ll dive into the shadows like my butt’s on fire.
I probably do look a little odd, because no one else is wandering the street so casually. A few people have showed up in taxis and practically sprinted into their places of business. Not many shoppers or restaurant goers frolic in the buildings behind the windows.
Viscera has never attacked this neighborhood, but she’s got the whole city braced in fear of her next rampage.
We have to stop her.
Little twinges of uneasiness, salty-fishy as dried herring, ripple through me with every step.
Those aren’t only from the nearby humans.
My awareness of my marked men has intensified with each moment that’s brought us closer: my kiss with Jonah, my intimate collision with Hail, the tender compassion I extended to Mirage yesterday, which brought him back to our group for the first hug he’s offered since I accidentally bound them.
It's as if we’re even more connected now than we were before. Because we’re all accepting this connection, whatever exactly it means, rather than struggling with it?
I still have no idea how any of this works. Which doesn’t seem right, since I’m the one who made it happen. Shouldn’t we come into existence with an innate understanding of how our own powers work?
Someone really should have a word with whoever’s in charge.
After about a half hour of the most believable strolling I can manage without straying out of the streets we decided on, I start to whistle. If Viscera hasn’t seen me, maybe she’ll hear me?
My cheerful tune lilts through the streets. I’m not sure how in-tune I am, but I’m definitely audible. And who doesn’t like the simple melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”?
Well, I guess someone doesn’t. A man opens a third-floor window just to yell at me, “Cut it out, you… you punk!”
He thinks I look like a rebel! Or at least, that was the most accurate insult he could come up with. I chose my outfit well.
I give him a jaunty salute. “Thank you!”
Once I’ve walked past his building, I pick up the tune again. I’m sure it’s cheering up more people than it’s annoying.
I cross the street and head around the block, my gaze sliding over the shadows. A few lesser creatures have ventured over to see what the odd but non-homicidal higher shadowkind in their midst—a.k.a. me—is up to.
I don’t think any of them are from the strange rift. The energy I sense as I pass them feels more settled than the warped beasts ever do.
The sun rises higher. The shadows shrink, and I veer closer to the buildings.
Then a figure leaps down into the middle of the road twenty feet ahead of me as if she’s popped out of the air.
Viscera lands hard enough to set off a minor earthquake. The asphalt cracks beneath her boots. She grins at the damage before lifting her gaze toward me.
Her form has shifted again, other than the crocodile tail that seems to be her favorite appendage. Her hair sprouts from her head and down her neck in a style I think I’ve heard humans call a mullet. Her face has widened but her body has narrowed, making her look unnervingly top-heavy.
I don’t think I’d want her to head-butt me.
“Periwinkle,” she says. “You came back.”
Her voice has morphed too, thicker and huskier than I remember it. Her tongue flicks over yellowed teeth as if she’s imagining snacking on me.
I stay where I am, because more distance seems safer, and put on my brightest smile. At the same time, I picture her lunging at me and sinking those yellowed teeth into my neck.
A jolt of panic at the image resonates through my veins. I know my men have picked up on it from the surge of distress that echoes into me in return.
They shouldn’t worry too much. This was how we planned that I’d signal them if I encountered Viscera—the most fundamental way we can communicate without using devices that might tip her off that I’ve sounded a warning.
I keep my voice bright too. “I did. It’s a nice city. You’ve been here for a while now. Have you found anything you like about it?”
She snorts. “I like breaking it. That’s the best use for all this human garbage.”
Then she cocks her head as if waiting to hear what I’ll say. As if she’s actually interested in my perspective.
I dig up all the calming imagery I’ve practiced since I arrived at the academy. Pictures of blue skies with fluffy clouds and ocean waves lapping at golden beaches float through my mind. A banquet of serenity.
As I nudge a careful whiff of that vibe toward Viscera like I have with lesser creatures in the past—like I did with Mirage last night—a splash of chardonnay-sharp anxiety hits me from farther away. My sense of the men I’ve marked is strengthening more as they rush toward me.
They’re awfully worried. Can’t they tell she isn’t hurting me?
I guess it’s hard for them to believe I might not become a target of her joy of smashing.
I can’t afford to redirect any of the soothing vibes I’m summoning to them. If I’m going to tame Viscera even a little, it’ll take all my concentration. As it is, a jitter runs through my nerves at the urgency of their emotions.
I take a deep breath and focus even more narrowly on the peaceful scenes in my head. “There are definitely some things humans make that might as well be garbage. But I have seen lots of good things from them too. Like food. Have you tried eating any of the things they cook or bake?”
Does she even need to eat? Most shadowkind don’t have to—at least not regular types of food. If they do need to consume something in the mortal realm, it’s more ephemeral like my hunger for emotions or more animalistic like Raze’s hankering for raw meat.
Another jolt of fear shoots through me, and I find myself gritting my teeth against a swell of my own uneasiness. The glowing spot on my chest jerks at my attention. They’re upset. You have to help them.
No, I don’t. This is the plan. They’ll see I’m okay as soon as they get here.
Let them get here fast.
That last thought sets my nerves jangling at a higher pitch. My smile tightens a little around the edges.
Thankfully, Viscera is distracted by my question. “Food? It looks interesting when I splatter it across the floor or the walls. Why would you put anything like that sticky, mushy stuff in your body?”
“It’s not all sticky and mushy!” I point out helpfully. “There’s crunchy and doughy and chewy. Some of it tastes pretty amazing. And clothes are great, too—you’ve put on some automatically, but there are all kinds of shapes and textures. Cashmere is so soft. So is silk!”
I think I’m babbling, but she hasn’t broken anything yet, so that seems like a sign I’m on the right track. For good measure, I summon memories of cozy blankets and supple dresses wrapping around me.
Maybe those images can plug up the streams of worry that are battering me.
Viscera shakes her head with a swish of her hair, but her expression is still thoughtful. I dare to push my calming vibe toward her with a little more oomph.
The more I can lull her into a sense of complacency, the slower I can hope she’ll react when my companions get here ready to fully subdue her.
She scoffs. “Clothes do nothing. They tangle and tear. Stupid stuff. And what about all these walls they throw up all over the place?” She waves at the buildings around us before motioning to the few cars parked on the road as well. “What about these hunks of metal that belch out toxic smoke?”
“There are some bad things about those,” I allow.
“But cars can get you places much faster than we can even travel through the shadows. That’s pretty amazing.
And the walls help keep in the warmth when it’s cold out and the cold when it’s too hot.
They can hold all kinds of activities. You should watch a movie sometime! It’s an incredible experience.”
Viscera arches an eyebrow. “A movie?”
I nod eagerly and try to create a picture with sweeps of my hands.
“There’s a huge screen, and pictures move on it like a story, but it’s made with real people and places so it feels almost like it actually happened.
And they can make all kinds of amazing special effects like magic or explosions—I guess you’d like that part—”
I don’t know if it’s the mention of explosions—which does bring a gleam into Viscera’s eyes—or if it’s just the distance closing between my men and me, but the rising anxiety smacks into me even harder than before.
My breath hitches, and my muscles tense with the urge to spring in four different directions at once, to race to everyone’s rescue.
They’re mine. I need to protect them.
They’re only upset because they think they need to protect me, I shout back silently, but my retort only amplifies the swell of emotions.
Sour sparks of anguish flare as my men sense my distress. My frustration sears hotter in turn.
Viscera frowns. “What are you doing, Periwinkle?”
I have to find my way back to tranquility—I have to balance out all this turmoil—I’m going to screw everything up—
That last thought crackles through all my good intentions, rattling me from head to toe. My men’s answering concern floods me. My vision hazes.
And a spurt of the emotions churning inside me surges out and smacks into a nearby lamp post.
I’ve kept enough control that my lapse doesn’t do any real damage. It only leaves a few dark scratches on the concrete surface.
But a cackle bubbles from Viscera’s lips. “That’s right! You want to blast it all too. Those mortals messed with us too much. This place wanted us and then it doesn’t let us in, no matter how we shift. So we’ll shift it to match us!”
A twinge of confusion breaks through my panic. “What are you talking about? Who messed with you? Where are you trying to go in?”
“All of them! Everywhere!” She tosses her hands in the air. “Pull us in and push us away. Make us twist and twitch. Never enough. Screw them! Let’s smash and burn it down!”
“Wait!” I cry, but the anguish that wells up with my protest only eggs her on. She whirls around, her tail smashing through the nearest car window. With a spring of her sinewy legs, she hurtles on top of it and crushes the roof toward the ground.
In a matter of seconds, she’s flung herself into one storefront and then another. More glass shatters; bricks crumble. The foundations groan as the buildings start to collapse.
Viscera shrieks with apparent glee. “That’s enough for here! You can do the rest. So many streets, so much to wreck.”
“No!” I gasp out, grasping at her, but she’s already flitted away into the shadows.
I spring after her. If I can keep up with her, follow her, maybe…
But by the time I’ve made it two blocks down the street, I’ve lost all sense of Viscera. I pull myself back into physical form feeling as low as the dirt beneath the asphalt.
The vans and cars carrying the rest of my colleagues roar onto the street a minute later. My four teammates leap out and race straight to me, as if I’m the one who needs help.
“Peri?” Raze says in a fraught growl.
I swipe at my eyes. “It’s my fault. I made her want to destroy things even more.”