Shadowglass

The sun shone brightly on the green metal-framed façade of the film museum, workers grabbed early coffees from fragrant black cafés. A greasy black spriggan in a trench coat crab-walked between rubbish bins, picking out cigarette butts and half-eaten sandwiches with gnarled yellow claws. A grinning firefairy clung to a passing motor biker’s back, wings trailing flames in the breeze, cackling in delight as sparks rolled over her naked back.

My train came, and I shambled on, half-asleep and headachy. I wanted my bed, warm and comforting and alone, where no one could hurt me or laugh at me.

The mirror burbled to me as we swayed along clicking tracks, my bag vibrating alarmingly under my palm. Secretly, I supposed it was kinda cool. I wanted to take it out, admire the glass shining in the sun, peek inside and see what I could see. But I didn’t dare, not here, after what it maybe made me say.

But I remembered the disbelieving look on that guy’s face, and a naughty smile flavored my lips. Yeah, that was kinda cool, too. I patted my bag absently. Crafty, clever little squidgy. We’ll be friends.

—Mmm,— the mirror whispered, and I smiled to myself and daydreamed the rest of the way to my stop, of a new and delicious world where I said what I wanted and wasn’t scared anymore.

Swanston Street, glass skyscrapers and retail cantilevers giving way to dirty office buildings and car parks, the university, my suburb with its bluestone gutters and cracked pavements and broken-down student houses. I drifted off the train and flitted the last few blocks in a daze, blinking in the sunlight, my bare feet stinging on rough concrete.

I tumbled the squidgy over in my hands as I dawdled. Sunlight glinted on scratches in the rust, and underneath it showed all silvery and nice. I stroked it, and the thing inside purred. “So, squidgy, what exactly are you?”

—I’m you. We’re us. You’re me.— The voice chimed pleasantly, like bells or rushing water.
“Okay, so that didn’t make sense. Who’s in there? Are you a boy or a girl? How come you’re telling me all these weird things to say? I mean, it’s brave and cool and awesome of you. But—”
—I want us to be happy.— The squidgy rolled anxiously, caressing my fingers.—Be my friend.

Please. Don’t break my heart.—

“Okay, okay. Don’t twist your knickers. Here’s home. You like it?”

Our squat, a moldy white weatherboard, dirt where the lawn should be, a broken veranda with a dusty couch and a few dead potted plants, front window broken and boarded, swallows tweeting on the rusty gutters.

We’re not proud. We like it here. Why spend money on rent when you can party? Besides, we owe most of what we make to the Cruz clan. In the middle of an ongoing gang war, protection doesn’t come cheap, even for a two-bit con like ours. Should’ve asked Jinxx to put in a good word for me with Peter London.

Sure. Jinxx had probably already forgotten I existed. Probably did a different girl every night, trying to forget about his weird-ass girlfriend.

I flapped up onto the creaking porch, slipping the not-mirror back in my bag. Stale heat dried my lungs as I staggered into the lounge. No air-conditioning, and we swung from the ceiling fans and broke them long ago. Jewelry, crumpled cash, and broken glass littered the thin carpet, yesterday’s spoils. Crusty yellow custard splashed the peeling green wallpaper and the TV screen, and our big orange beanbag was speckled with mashed jelly beans and popcorn.

We’d had a bit of a party before we went out. No doubt Ashley would cheat at paper, scissors, rock and I’d end up cleaning again.

The mirror snorted.—Tell him to clean up his own custard. Just ’cause you’re a girl doesn’t mean you do housework, right?—

Yeah. Try telling Ashley that. He tries to be a New Age guy—he cleans his teeth and wears eye shadow and everything—but he’s got that convenient boy gene that just doesn’t see the mess, even when he put it there.

Ladylike snoring rattled from Charlotte’s doorway, and I stuck my head in to see her tucked happily in bed, green hair brushed, wings clean and neatly folded under the quilt.

Affection warmed me. No doubt she’d made sweet, safe, sober love to a clean, respectable fae boy in his nice clean house, slipped out of bed (yeah, Apples, bed —not over the couch or up against the door) despite his protests and showered before she came home. Before daylight.

With all her clothes intact. By taxi, because she hadn’t spent all her cash getting plastered.
Without making a dickhead of herself, insulting some random guy on the way.

I looked down at my stained clothes, the blue bruises blotting my arms from harsh demon fingers, the stinky shimmer wafting from my skin. Weary envy tugged at my blood.

Notes

Heyy guys, even though i only updated a few hours ago i feel like i still owe it till you. Hope you enjoy!!!!! And i will be updating very very soon again....yay :p

Plz just remember rate, review and subscribe!!
Stay weird baby bats
-Grimm



P.S - There will be 3 updates tonight..... Yay!!!!