Page 102 of Claimed By the Mothman

Words appeared as sharp as a knife.

The bond may have claimed you, but it has not yet cleansed you.

Goldie stepped forward. Her face blanched. “What the fuck isthat?”

Nell didn’t answer. She folded the note closed, fingers shaking slightly. A ward-light overhead flickered then blinked out with a crack like a ball shattering glass.

“Hey,” Goldie said quietly.

“Yeah,” Nell lied. “Really wasn’t expecting my Friday to start with metaphysical guilt mail, though.”

“Okay, what thehelldoes that mean?” Goldie whirled towards her purse, starting to rummage. “Also we can burn it. I have lighters. Plural.”

Nell managed a shaky laugh. “I’ll let you know.”

She slid the folded note into the bottom drawer like it was venomous.

“I was really scared, you know,” Goldie said suddenly, turning with a pen and a tape measure in hand. “You didn’t call. I figured you were getting spiritually railed into nirvana, but I also thought, like, what if something went wrong? What if Greymarket Towers got greedy? What ifhe—”

“I’m okay,” Nell exclaimed, holding up a hand. “Something happened, but definitely not in a bad way.”

Goldie nodded. Then, she dropped what she was holding, fluttered her hands outwards, and gave a dramatic cry. “I mean, I cried while applying a sheet mask, Nell. Do you know what that does to the adhesive? Isuffered.”

“There’s my girl,” Nell murmured, a smile twitching her lips.

Goldie pounced. “Tell me everything. Timestamps. Positions. Wing logistics. But, wait—” She vanished into the break room and returned a minute later with two mugs, a glitter pen, and a suspiciously thick notebook labeledMonster Smut Field Notes.

By the time she slid into the chair across from Nell, Nell was blushing and doing a poor job hiding her delight.

“Alright,” Goldie said, cracking her knuckles. “How bad was it? Scale of one to friction burns.”

Nell took a slow sip of tea. Then, deadpan: “He fucked my brains out numerous times and thanked me every second.”

Goldiereeledlike she’d taken a hit to the chest. “Stop. I will perish. Did he—oh my gods—did hepurr?”

“Absolutely,” Nell said.

Goldie screamed in delight.

“Also, we ran into Edward and Elinore at the farmer’s market.”

Goldie dropped everything and slammed her palms onto the table. “I’m sorry. Youwhat?”

Nell shrugged. “Sig went full Harbinger. Not subtle.”

Goldie wriggled in her chair like a child at a cursed puppet show—horrified, delighted, unable to look away. “You absolute slut for drama. How are you just casually dropping this?! Did he smite them? Didyousmite them? Was there fog?”

“No fog, but the temperature dropped by ten degrees easily.”

Goldie crowed. “I’m ready. Give me angles. Dialogue. Mood lighting.”

Above them, one of the library lights buzzed in satisfaction.

—

Nell had not been gone long, but the bond already felt stretched.

Sig stood in the center of the apartment. His antennae hung low, twitching in slow, unsettled arcs.