I wake before the alarm, as if some ancient clock inside me has struck the exact hour. The room is quiet; a gray haze seeps through the curtains. For a second, I forget where I am, the rented house, the open suitcases in the corner, the gauze and bandages on the dresser, until the black cloak hanging on the door pulls me back. I see the tailor’s mirror again, the purple lining fanning like wings, and Killian’s look when he said, “Magnificent, but deadly.”
I roll onto my side and touch the Ankh at my throat. The metal is cold, but not indifferent. A faint vibration runs along the chain, as if a tiny heart beats inside it in time with mine. I breathe deep and sit up, feeling the day settle onto my shoulders. It isn’t just the outfit or the car waiting outside. It’s what comes after the gate
