Page 28 of Hounded: Ashes to Ashes

Knotting off the top of my popcorn bag, I tied it to my belt loop then made a beeline for the paint. If I got an extra sack from the Thai place, I could get everything back to Sully’s apartment,and she’d be none the wiser. Surely Evander wouldn’t mind if I played with his toys while he was away. As long as I stayed out of trouble.

It was after midnight when I decided to go down to the gallery and get the untouched easel and canvas and drag them up to Sully’s apartment. The spray paint I’d borrowed—stolen, whatever—from Evander formed a semi-circle on the floor around me. I had repurposed the pages of Sully’s Enchanter’s Almanac for masking and took a cup from the kitchen to make round planet shapes.

For art, I told myself, a whisper in the darkness.

I’d sampled the colors first, by sight and smell. Their plastic lids were removed and arranged like a tasting flight. Each one got a little spritz of color before I cupped it to my nose for a nice, long whiff. The noxious fumes went straight to my brain, and something lit up inside me like a bell ringing yes, right answer. So, I huffed them again and again until the aerosols tasted like the goddamn rainbow.

Now, the canvas was dripping with too many layers of paint, and I had the munchies. I balanced my pad Thai leftovers in one hand and shook the rattle can with the other, preparing to lay down a smattering of stars.

A muffled groan preceded Sully emerging from the bedroom hallway. She scrubbed her scalp, then dragged her fingers down her face before squinting at me.

“Indy?”

“N. D.,” I chirped in response.

That was going right on the corner of this galactic masterpiece. Big letters. N.D. It used to be a tattoo on my arm. I remembered that. But tattoos, piercings, and endless applications of hair dye washed away with every rebirth, and I came back as a brown-haired, boring, basic bitch.

Sully repeated my name. She sounded pissed.

“What are you doing?”

“Art,” I replied. “Inspiration struck.”

I spritzed the canvas with white, speckling the dark skyscape.

“Well, I’ve beenstruckby a hell of a migraine.” Sully’s nose wrinkled. “You can practically see the fumes in the air. Why didn’t you open the window?”

Because I liked it.

Didn’t need it, but I wanted it.

The smell made my head swimmy, and the pillows on the floor looked like a lopsided smiley face. I smiled back, deep-diving into my earliest memory about the man who put me in a cage and cut my hair and pulled my feathers. He called me N.D. Marked me with it.

Just N.D.

Sully muttered a few words, then swept her hand toward the wall. The gauzy drapes fluttered as the window opened. Wind gusted through the apartment, creating a vacuum that momentarily stole my breath. It cut like a draft pouring out into the night. Then the glass slid shut.

I stood, holding the spray paint limp at my side. My attention traveled from the cityscape outside to the bookshelves that flanked it. Tucked between other oddities, the taxidermized creatures watched me with black, beady eyes.

I smiled at them, too.

“Indy.” Sully shook me.

When had she gotten so close?

I looked at her, putting every piece of my fragmented focus into holding her gaze.

“You got paint on your nose,” she said.

“In it, too.” I snorted a laugh. “Up it.”

The angry lines forming valleys in her forehead began to smooth, and her eyes softened along with her voice as she said, “You’re high.”

“Oops.” I grinned because it was funny. Didn’t she see how fucking funny it was?

“Notoops.” She leaned around me to survey the scattered paints and the almanac stripped down to its spine. “How did you…” She shook her head. “Where did you even get all of this?”

“I know a guy.” I gave the paint can a shake. “He’s an angel.”

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