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MY ALARM WENT OFF before sunrise, shrieking shrill and piercing in the gloom of my bedroom. Only gloom, not darkness: both my roommates were already up, and while they were generously keeping their voices down until I crawled out of bed, neither of them could see in the dark.
Groaning, I sat up and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to make them want to open. They did not. Opening was, in fact, low on their list of things to do today, right above “staying open” and “looking at the world.” I respected their right to protest, but had to declare a fiat, since they didn’t really have a choice. I needed to work if I wanted to eat, and I needed to eat if I wanted to stay alive.
There are people who say you never really escape from high school, you just keep finding it in different forms, over and over again, until it finally kills you. Those people are assholes, and should not be allowed in polite company. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.
There are days when I want to punch absolutely everyone around me, and keep punching until they’re no longer capable of fighting back. I’m told those desires are antisocial. Sometimes, I really don’t care.
“Okay, you have glitter in your everything. You are a testament to the power of glitter.”
Fern probably didn’t know how to get blood out of velvet. I did. I could lead a goddamn master course in getting blood out of any kind of fabric, with a bonus session on getting blood out of hair without washing away all the hairspray. Alas, there isn’t much call for that sort of thing in my current occupation.
Honestly, if this was the life I had to lead, I was glad I’d landed where I had. Disney would probably have ended with me stabbing some asshole in a Mickey Mouse costume in the throat for implying that I wasn’t showing the proper attitude.
Mustardseed’s and their ability to ruin anything with too much vinaigrette came through again: it was like filling my mouth with someone’s faintly bitter perfume. Apparently, “dressing on the side” was a concept they had never heard of.
“Oh.” Fern frowned. “Is this about how you set things on fire when you’re asleep? Because I know about that. I think it’s sort of cute. Are you sure you’re not part djinn? Because that would explain the fire. Except I don’t think they’re cross-fertile with humans, and I know you’re mostly human. Um. Except for the fire thing.”
“I live here,” said Fern, sounding squeakily affronted. She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, which for Fern was the equivalent of a full-on glare. It was adorable. Telling her that probably wouldn’t have been a good idea.
“Love is love. If anybody tries to tell you your love’s not worth having, shoot them in the kneecaps a couple of times. It won’t change their minds, but it’ll make you feel better.” –Frances Brown
“Great.” I clapped my hands, chanting, “Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse.” “How many times do I need to tell you, that’s borderline offensive and not a good way to summon a ghooooo . . .” Mary trailed-off mid-word, suddenly realizing that she was in an unfamiliar kitchen, standing in front of a total stranger.
The thing about riding gallantly into battle is that unless something is actively trying to kill you right now, it’s probably a good idea to eat first. We fell upon those two pizzas like we were starving—which, to be honest, several of us were.
I knew the water wanted me dead long before I felt fire in my fingers. We were natural enemies, the water and I, and it didn’t matter whether it was in a swimming pool or the Pacific Ocean, it would kill me if I gave it the opportunity.
“You’re like a cockroach,” he said. “I’m dating a cockroach. That’s pretty cool.”
“It’s hot when your name scares the shit out of people,” Sam observed.
The parking garage of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport Two weeks and three days after the departure of the Precise Priestess, may her blades fly ever true
We love them. We believe in them. We will die for them and consider our brief lives well-spent, if only it makes them smile for a moment in our memory. We do what we must do, and we have no regrets.
I leapt, Mork close behind me, and no one screamed or threw anything, leaving me to believe that we had once more escaped notice. It couldn’t last forever. I was going to take full advantage while I could, for did not the Violent Priestess say, lo, The Best Offense Is a Sneak Attack?
When I was little, I always wondered why you didn’t do like the young grandparents in Lifetime movies and tell me you were my actual mother.”
“Envy them what?” I looked to him, ear cocked to show curiosity. “Their size? It would be nice, to be so protected from predation. But look how much they need! What fills my belly is but a crumb to them. They are endless hunger. They will devour the world, and they still will not be fulfilled. And lacking predators to turn their hands against, they turn so very often on each other. No. I do not envy them their size.”
“If I throw the soap at you, do I somehow piss off the unspeakable eldritch entity that you serve?”
“Oh my God,” said Sam. “Annie’s dead aunt is a weirdo pervert.”
