Inked

moments later.

    I woke up. Drenched in sweat. So nauseous I slid my hand over my mouth, fighting not to gag. My temples throbbed, and my neck was sore. Mildew seemed to crawl up my nostrils.
    I forced myself to take deep breaths; listening, as I did, to gentle murmurs from the apartment below me. Jean sprawled on the couch. I could not tell if she was asleep, but red eyes glinted, and I heard the soft familiar crunch of jaws tearing through metal. Dek and Mal, coiled close to my head, began kneading my shoulders.
    My dreams lingered, especially those golden eyes. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe.
    But my gut hurt. And when both Zees crept close, watching me carefully, there was something old and knowing in their gazes that only made me feel more ill.
    I grabbed my Zee and dragged him close, pressing my mouth to his ear. “What are you hiding?”
    His breath was hot as fire, but he said nothing and pulled away. Pulled me, too, and I rose carefully to my feet. Trying to be silent, though the floor creaked beneath me. Jean stirred, and glanced at me. Not a trace of sleep in her eyes.
    “I need air,” I said quietly. “I’ll be back soon.”
    “Be careful of soldiers,” she replied.
    I was more careful of not making noise on the stairs. Soft steps, hugging the wall. Wooden splinters covered the second-story landing, but the largest had been swept into a neat pile. No more door, just a white sheet pinned in its place. I paused for a moment, thinking of young Ernie resting on the other side of that thin cloth. My hands felt warm for a moment with the memory of his old-man blood.
    Hot outside, but there was a light breeze and no mildew scent. I stood on the stoop, inhaling as deeply as I could, again and again, until my nausea faded. Dek and Mal hummed against my ears: Kenny Loggins’s “Danger Zone.”
    Several hours left before dawn. It was very dark outside. I listened carefully, but heard nothing except my heartbeat, and the faint scrape of claws as my boys rolled free of the shadows around my feet. I sat down on the steps, taking in the night. It was 1944, but this could have been a quiet street sixty years from now. Some things were not bound by time.
    Like me.
    “The Black Cat,” I said to Zee, rubbing my knuckles as Raw and Aaz prowled around my ankles. “I need to know more about her. Like why she’s so tough my grandmother won’t take her out.”
    “Told you,” Zee replied. “Connections.”
    “That’s not enough when kids are getting hurt, and you and I know it.”
    The little demon leaned close, rubbing his cheek against my arm. “Different mothers, different hearts.”
    “Not that different.” I ran my gloved fingers through the thick spines of his hair. “Just not confident. Not tested enough to be sure of how far she can push. I remember what that feels like. And you…. You came to her when she was still young. You left her alone in the world when she was just a kid.”
    “All kids. Every mother.” Zee spat, and the acid in his saliva burned a hole in the stone steps. “No choice.”
    Bullshit, I wanted to say. You could give us all more time.
    But that would be like telling thunder not to make sound, or water not to be wet. It just was.
    Somewhere, distant, an engine chugged to life with a dull, throbbing roar. Made me flinch. I had not realized until then how silent the night was. “You’re not going to tell me anything useful, are you? You never do.”
    “Safer not to,” he muttered. “Safer to trust you.”
    And then he looked sharply at the door behind me, and snapped his claws at the others. Raw and Aaz fell backward into the shadows, while Zee leapt into the darkness between my legs and the stairs, slip-sliding from this world into another.
    I heard a muffled cough. Found Ernie behind me, slight and pale as a ghost.
    “Maxine, not Jean,” I said.
    “I know,” he replied quietly. “I can tell you apart now.”
    I scooted sideways, and he sat down beside me. “My parents are finally asleep.”
    “Will they be okay?”
    He shrugged. “They could be dead or sick. Anything else is okay.”
    Tough kid. But not tough enough to hide the quaver in his voice, or the way he twisted his fingers. I tore my gaze from him to watch the street. “They depend on you to help out with things.”
    “I don’t mind working.”
    “How much does the Black Cat pay you?”
    Ernie stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
    “She’s the reason I’m here.”
    “Then you should