Gremma stood just outside Whiteaker dormitory. She lounged against the brick wall, her arms crossed. She wasn’t smiling. “Well, well, well,” she said. “I think I’ve heard this story before.

“It was a dark and stormy night. A girl does what she should—she stays inside and minds her own business. Only, she hears a wailing at the window, a ghostly cry. So, tell me. Does our intrepid hero venture outside to see exactly what kind of swamp creature would try to coax her into the terrors of the night? Or does she leave the creature on its own?”

Dee shivered. She was soaked through, her hair caked with mud and rainwater. They’d had to slog all the way back to the road from the market, where Dee had called a cab. The driver hadn’t been happy to have two muddy girls clamber into his backseat, but he’d taken them to Brannigan without comment.

“I didn’t wail at the window,” Dee said through chattering teeth. “I texted you.”

Gremma nodded at the girl standing a few feet behind Dee. “And who is this?”

“Please,” said Dee. “It’s an emergency. Can you distract the dorm monitor while I sneak her inside? She needs a place to stay tonight.”

Gremma’s pale, freckled arms were crossed over her chest. “Tell me what’s going on,” she said. “No bullshit this time.”

Riley stepped forward. The rain dripped off the edge of her hood. “Listen, if this is going to cause trouble—”

“Not you,” said Gremma, shooting Riley a quelling glance. “Dee.”

Dee looked at Gremma, at her red hair bundled into a frizzy bun, at her pajama shorts and her slippers shaped like bears. The faded remnants of red lipstick edged her mouth, and she looked like some beautiful wild creature, her mouthed stained with old blood.

To hell with it, Dee thought.

“I’m working for a demon,” said Dee. “My scholarship ran out, and I’m working for a demon in exchange for money.”

Gremma went still. It reminded Dee of the times she watched Gremma cut into a dead frog—her body frozen, eyes narrowed and focused. Those eyes now slid over Dee, presumably checking for missing body parts.

“My heart,” said Dee, and Gremma sucked a sharp breath between her teeth.

“And this girl,” said Gremma, nodding at Riley, “and that art guy.”

“We’re all working together,” said Dee, the words tumbling out of her. “It’s temporary—a two-year contract. But it’s screwed up and dangerous, and Cora thinks we’re fighting angels, but I think we’re fighting an eldritch abomination but I’m not sure, and Cal died, and Riley needs a place to stay.”

Gremma shook her head. “And I thought you were a drug runner.”

Dee laughed, and it felt like a release. “It’d probably be safer.”

Gremma’s mouth puckered up, as if in thought, and she nodded at Riley. “All right, then. I’ll go to the dorm mom and tell her I need a tampon or something—you take her in the back.”

“Thank you,” said Dee, unable to hide how grateful she felt.

They went up the stairs, going barefoot so as not to leave muddy footprints. Dee veered into the bathrooms first and gestured for Riley to follow.

Riley hesitated.

“Come on,” said Dee. “We both need a shower. Everyone’ll be doing homework or something. No one will even notice that you don’t live here.”

With a little doubtful sigh, Riley walked into the bathroom and began stripping off her muddied clothing.

Dee stepped into an adjacent stall and twisted the water on full, not bothering to get undressed first. Head bowed, she watched swirls of brown circle the drain. Then she began pulling at her sodden clothing.

It wasn’t easy, getting undressed in an already-running shower. She tugged at her shirt. Working the buttons free took far longer than it should have, her fingers clumsy with cold and exhaustion.

As she worked, she heard a soft sound.

A tiny sob. Muffled, as if someone had pressed their hand to their mouth.

“Are you okay?” Dee asked, loudly, above the sound of the shower.

“I’m fine,” Riley’s voice snapped out.

Dee went back to working on her clothes.

Riley had a backpack with her and clean pajamas, and soon the two girls were sitting on the floor of room 209. Gremma was perched on her bed—a box of tampons next to her.

Dee explained things. About the demons, about her theory, about the knitted hearts being the only thing keeping them alive, about the voids, about the giant thing made of human body parts—

“Holy shit,” said Gremma. “That’s what they do with them? I thought they ate them or something.”

—and how those homunculi were sent into the voids to destroy them. About the duffel bags full of river rocks and C-4. (“Okay,” said Riley, “now that part could be fun. I like explosions.”) About how the Daemon seemed to be an oddity among his kind, tearing the hearts from teenagers rather than building creatures without a heart. About Cal. And lastly, about Cora’s desire to stop the demon.

Riley listened while Gremma insisted on feeling for Dee’s wrist.

“You don’t have a pulse,” said Gremma.

“I told you,” replied Dee. “No heart.”

“That’s… well,” said Gremma. “Think about it. You’re, like, frozen in time or something. But you’re still breathing, why are you still breathing?” She pressed a hand to Dee’s forehead, as if trying to take her temperature. “Maybe it’s habit. Are you still eating? Peeing?”

“Pretty sure being heartless doesn’t come with a fever,” said Dee, scooting back. “And, yes. Although it’s none of your business, I have been doing both.” Her eyes fell to the tampon box. “I haven’t had a period since then, though.”

“Okay,” said Gremma, “now that’s a perk I want.”

After Dee thought she had explained everything that Riley needed to know, she made her a bed out of blankets and pillows on the floor. “Thanks for letting me stay here tonight,” said Riley. “I’ve got a few other friends I can ping tomorrow, see if they wouldn’t mind me crashing.”

Dee climbed into bed and pulled her own covers up, shivering slightly. Her phone buzzed.

She let out a breath of relief when she saw the familiar name.

James: r u ok?

Fine, she texted back. You?

i look like i crawled out of a bog. but cora looks worse.

Cora’s okay?

Pissed off. I asked her about the gun and she said something about a concealed carry license she got when she turned 18. U know most people just buy cigarettes or try to sneak into a bar, but nooo. Cora just has to be original.

She could almost hear him say the words and she smiled. Hey. Do you have room in your apartment for someone to crash for a while?

A moment later, he replied: sure.

Dee rolled over, looked down at the nest of blankets and pillows. “Good news. I just secured you temporary lodging.”

Dee went to the dining hall in the early hours, before anyone else would see her piling food onto a tray and sneaking it back into the dorms. On one plate were scrambled eggs with cheese, toast, and bacon. On the other was fruit, cottage cheese, and a bagel. Riley emerged from the blanket nest, her hair sticking up in every direction.

“You,” said Riley, “are officially my newest favorite person.”

They ate breakfast on the floor, crowded around the tray. Gremma sipped black coffee and devoured a cinnamon roll in three bites. Then she was up on her feet, declaring she needed a shower.

Only when they were alone did Dee feel more comfortable speaking about their shared predicament. “So,” she said. “What’d you sell your heart for?”

Riley swallowed her mouthful of cottage cheese with care, as if using the time to consider her answer. “Isn’t that sort of like asking how much someone makes at their job? Taboo and all?”

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.” Dee shrugged. “I was just curious. It seems like the icebreaker question for the heartless troop. The only person who keeps it a secret is Cora—and I don’t know why.”

Riley ate another two mouthfuls. Then she shrugged. “Trans,” she said simply. “No money. Parents who disapproved. Need I say more?”

Dee drew in a breath. “So you found a demon.”

Riley let out a small breath. “I’m a teenager,” she said. “I was on my parents’ insurance policy—and they wouldn’t have allowed it.” Her gaze darkened. “If you’re like that other girl—what was her name. Cora. If you’re going to tell me what I did was wrong, you can fuck right off. Making a deal was my decision and—”

“Oh,” said Dee, surprised. “No. I mean, I’m not judging you for making a deal. I mean, I did, too.”

Riley’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “And you asked for money for school?”

Dee smiled in return; also, not a happy smile. “Bad home life.”

“Ah.” Riley’s face softened. “Well. Thank you for letting me crash in your dorm.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” said Riley with quiet insistence. “You said you sold your heart to stay here? Couldn’t you get kicked out for smuggling someone into the room?”

Dee looked down. “Well…”

“Thank you,” repeated Riley. “And thank you for asking that heartless guy if I could crash for a few weeks. It’ll be temporary, I swear. I’ve got a part-time gig as a barista and another friend who’s also looking for a place. We were planning on finding something together.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Dee. “Out of curiosity, how do you feel about paint fumes?”

Dee sat on one of the stained couches and watched as James put together a bedroom.

Well, sort of.

“Is that supposed to be a curtain?” asked Gremma. She strode through the apartment’s open front door, flopped down beside Dee, and tossed her purse onto the coffee
table.

Sure enough, James was on a ladder, attaching large swaths of cloth to the ceiling. “This place doesn’t have a lot of walls,” Dee replied. “He’s decided the best they can do is curtain off that far corner, put in a mattress and storage, and Riley can sleep there for now.”

James wobbled atop the ladder and Riley rushed to grab one of its legs.

“Wow,” said Gremma. “It’s like watching the world’s crappiest home improvement show.” She spotted the bottle of champagne sitting on the coffee table. There were four plastic red cups—Dee’s was untouched.

“A toast,” James had said, “to new housemates.”

Gremma took Dee’s cup without having to ask if she would drink it; Gremma knew her. She drained it in a few gulps. “So is this going to be weird?” she asked. “Your boyfriend living with another girl?”

Dee made a face. “I’m not sure which part of that statement I disagree most with. That you think James is my boyfriend, or that you think if he were my boyfriend he would be so easily swayed by another girl, or that Riley would steal my boyfriend. Which he isn’t,” she added hastily.

Gremma gave her a flat look. “You kissed him. I saw you in the car.”

“That was on the cheek.”

“I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“He’s nice.”

“He painted you.” Gremma crossed her arms. “If that’s not interest, I don’t know what is. And you want to jump him.”

“What makes you say that?” said Dee.

Gremma looked away. “Because you trusted him with your secrets long before you trusted me.”

Dee opened her mouth, but only silence emerged. It—it was true. She had trusted James first. And part of her wanted to claim it was only solidarity, that both of them having no heart drew them together. They faced life-or-death situations together; that was sure to forge a bond.

But she hadn’t felt that way about Cal or Cora. She’d liked Cal well enough and she was wary of Cora—but James—James was—

She looked at him. He was still on that ladder, arms lifted above his head, trying to attach the curtain to the ceiling. The gesture lifted his shirt, exposed a sliver of skin along his stomach. She had one of those thoughts that simply comes to a person with no warning—what might it be like to see him without the shirt?

Oh, hell.

She did want to jump him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning her attention back to Gremma. “It’s nothing personal. I never not trusted you.”

Some of Gremma’s hurt seemed to slide away. “No, I get it.” She chewed on the edge of the plastic cup. “Some secrets you keep all tangled up in yourself, so tight that to pull them out is physically painful.”

And that was it. Dee had bound so much of herself up in the appearance of normalcy, hoping the mask would someday turn into the real thing.

Or maybe everyone felt this way—caught up in their own demons, trying to put on a good face for everyone else.

Riley came over, sat on the opposite couch. Even sweaty, with rumpled hair and no makeup, she was still beautiful. Between Riley and Gremma, Dee felt the tiniest bit frumpy.

“Have you heard from Cora?” called James. He was descending from the ladder, stepping back to survey his work.

“No,” said Dee. “I figure… well. She’s probably pissed at us.”

“Would the demon really have hurt her?” Riley asked.

“Daemon,” said Dee and James in unison.

“Call him the Daemon,” said Dee.

Riley’s nose crinkled. “Why?”

“Because Agathodaemon is a bit of a mouthful,” said James, unrolling the mattress. “And the one time I tried to call him Aggie, he talked about ripping out my liver.”

This comment had its intended effect—laughter rippled through the group, breaking the tension. James was smiling, content with his achievement. Dee knew that he was doing his best to fill the void Cora had left. He wasn’t a leader; if anything, he was a class clown. But he had a way of defusing a situation and making people feel comfortable, and he would use it to his best advantage.

He was trying to take care of them.

He was a far better person than she’d first thought.

When he went to the fridge to retrieve more drinks, Dee followed him. “Thank you. For doing this, I mean.”

He straightened, a bottle of water in each hand. He set the bottles on the counter, and their sides were already clouded with condensation. “For water?”

“For taking Riley in,” she said. “For trying to make this better, when you didn’t have to.”

He blinked. As if that were a strange statement to make. “It’s what anyone would do,” he said with a half shrug.

No, it wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine her father doing such a thing. Dee had grown up with a desperate need to be self-sufficient, to never rely on anyone. Accepting help made her feel awkward.

She’d never felt that around James, though. Perhaps because he didn’t make a big deal out of it; helping people was just what he did.

They stood in silence for a moment, and then he said, his voice quiet, “I’m worried about Cora.”

She drew in a breath. She had been thinking about Cora, too. “You said she was okay.”

“She was okay.” James rubbed at the creases in his forehead. “Physically. Emotionally, well, she was pretty angry. I think—I think she was pretty dead set on keeping the Daemon from making any more of us. She feels responsible somehow. Like seniority gives her the automatic mom role.”

“She’s a good person,” said Dee. “I think that’s why she has more trouble with this than the rest of us. Someone should call her, see if she’s doing all right.”

James frowned. “Did you just call me a bad person?”

“I said ‘us.’ Remember, I count myself among those ranks.”

James laughed quietly. “You’re a good person, Dee.”

“How do you know that?” She looked at him. “I could secretly be hiding a dark side.”

His smile softened. “Because the first time we met, you thought I was homeless and you offered me money—despite the fact you came into that basement intending to ask a demon for money.”

Oh. Well. She had never really thought about it like that.

“It was just going to be for a bus,” she protested. “It wasn’t like I offered you fifty grand or anything.”

“Doesn’t matter.” There was a fondness she hadn’t expected to see in his face. “You offered to help.” His hand came up, fingers tracing her chin.

If she’d had a heart, it would have been hammering.

But she did not pull away—not when he leaned in, not when his breath mingled with hers, not when she felt the gentle touch of his lips.

“I chose this,” she said, very quietly, and kissed him again.