Shadowglass

The door snapped shut like a magnet, and he was gone.

I kicked in frustration, leaving a smear on the sheet. Alone in his rose-drenched apartment.

Chained to the bed. With no underwear on, and a shivering ache gnawing through my body like an underfed rat.

I’d imagined a lot of things about Andy, but I’d never imagined he’d do something like this.

At least he’d left through the door and hadn’t jumped out the window or ripped a hole in the ceiling or anything. Crazy metalfae.

My skin crinkled, uncomfortable. This was all my fault. I’d let him seduce me with his chaos, let him build my sick mirrorfever to a raging fire, when what I really needed to do was calm down, think, relax.

But I couldn’t. He’d lied to me about not looking into the mirror. He’d pretended to help me even though he clearly had his own agenda. He’d deceived me after all, and I was so livid with myself for falling for it that my teeth stung.

I rattled my chain, furious, and had to force my hands still. Fine. Let him go off on his crazy quest to save me. I didn’t need him. I could do this on my own.

First, get out of here. Then worry about finding Stalkerboy, he of the frightening angel-blue eyes and weird threesome aspirations. I didn’t know what he’d really wanted with me that night at the Court, and I didn’t care. He’d traded his skulls for the mirror, and he was my only lead.

I sucked in a calming breath and crawled up onto shaking knees to peer at the shackle in dim mood lights. Chain only a few inches long. Ratchet type, no keyhole, already too tight from my struggles. Good one. Teach you to flip out.

The other end locked tight to a strip of wood as thick as my arm. Unless I took the whole bed with me, I wasn’t shifting it. And he’d snapped the cuff on before I knew what he was doing. No time to spread my fingers, tense my muscles, make my forearm as big as possible to get a bit more wriggle room. When you’ve been tied up as much as I have, you learn these things.

Still, cuffs don’t work too well on double-jointed fairy hands. They’re designed for humans, with their inflexible knuckles and tough skin. I grabbed my thumb and pulled.

Doonk.

The joint popped out with only a feeble complaint. Wobble, wobble. Now my thumb was all floppy.

I pushed it into my palm and eased the cuff over my welted wrist-bones. Still too thick.
I pulled my little finger backwards until the joint slipped out.

Ouch. That one hurt. Moisture popped out in beads on my skin, slicking my hand like oil. I squeezed it, discomfort wrapping my arm. Now my hand was all skinny and slippery like an eel.

I grabbed the metal bracelet and pulled. The cuff inched upward. Again, another inch, bones crunching together. Again, and my hand slurped free, like a little yellow baby being born. Aww.

I tossed the horrid wet cuff away, steel clanking on wood, and yanked sore knuckles back into their sockets. It bothered me that Andy’s fingers bend backwards, too. He knew I’d get away.

Maybe he just liked chaining me up. Or maybe a few minutes’ head start was all he needed.

I clambered off the bed and pulled my skirt down to cover me. My top was all twisted, too, and I tugged it back around, the thin cotton scraping my tortured nipples. My battered wings protested. I shifted them gingerly, the joints still raw from the fall and his mouth.

No ladylike fluttering for me. Still, they didn’t seem badly damaged. I craned my head around, chasing my own wing tails in a few stumbling circles, but I couldn’t see any rips. My heart lightened. A bit of good news, amongst all this other trash.

I clambered down the ladder, and as his hot copper smell faded a little, my brain started working again. I had to find Stalkerboy, find out what he’d done with the mirror. I cast around for my bag, checking the floor, the couch, the kitchen bench. Nowhere to be seen. I stuck my head out the glass balcony door. Nothing. I must have dropped it on the way down.

I sighed. Great. I’d already lost the diamonds and the ruby skulls to Peter at Valentino’s. Now I’d lost my purse and my phone and everything else that remembered who I was. If I died and they found my body, they’d never know my name.

I flipped the kitchen tap on full and thrust my wrists under. Water splashed up my arms, blessedly cool, calming my jerking blood. I had no clue who Stalkerboy was, but he seemed to know me. Back to the Court, then, see if I can sneak in without paying, make a spectacle of myself some more and he’d find me. Easy peasy.

I splashed my face, letting the drips run down my fevered neck onto my chest, and took a few deep breaths. But unease still shimmered in my stomach. I swallowed, faintly sick, and snapped the water off. Swimming through quicksand. It wasn’t a very good plan. But I didn’t know what else to do. Might as well make the best of it.

I shook myself dry, splashing drips onto spotless marble, skipped over to the door, and flipped it open.

Blue eyes, so bright, I blinked. Tanned shoulders scrawled with ink, rain-soaked dark hair, tiny steel spikes glinting through his skin.



Stalkerboy.

Notes

Hey my Beautiful Bats, hope you enjoy this one, kinda just a little filler
(hope it doesn't suck though...still have this migraine so i probably did some pretty confusing sentences. Plz don't kill me)

Stay Weird
- Grimm