Sying rose and floated across the white carpet, like a hellish apparition, flawless, not a chip in her armor.
The Slow King held her back and she half fell, half drifted into his arms. “We did it, together. We will see it to the end, together,” he assured her.
Sying gently freed herself from his embrace. Olive almost laughed. She was watching the marital ballet of wealthy mental patients. Perhaps people with great power always floated about like this, disconnected not only from the real world, but from themselves. She felt no pity. Not even for herself.
Survival was everything.
Sammy was making sandwiches in Clara’s kitchen. Forest was confined to the big couch in the living room, staring at the screens he had once stared out of. Allie had wrapped his swollen leg in ice and put it up o
