Chapter 22: Company
I wake up to the sight of a familiar wood-and-plaster ceiling, and spend the next few moments pushing away the sick weight of a bad dream.
Voices in the next room drag the nightmare into reality.
“She did what?” Susan laughs over the clatter-slosh-clink of dishes.
“You should have seen it!” Ravel’s voice is smooth, confident. The master manipulator at the height of his powers.
I stumble through the doorway, scrubbing sleep from my eyes and trailing knotted bedding.
“You’re up.” She raises a soapy hand in greeting, smiling, though she won’t quite meet my eyes.
“Sleepyhead,” Ravel calls, flicking a dishtowel in my direction.
Ravel. Casually doing chores in Susan’s kitchen.
He looks strange without his usual ostentatious paint and ornamentation, his dark tangle of
