Cold flashed through his mind. Cain slammed out the hallway with a snarl twisted through his lips. His aura blazed outward, and caught on the sorcerous maelstrom, glasses and papers tore through the air. Her wine glass collided with a canvas in a burst of discordant shattering, shredding the art on its frame.

The stink of rot ran high and nauseous through the room.

Cain pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, motionless. Breathe. Breathe. Deep breaths. His head throbbed and his aura throbbed in time with it, sick cold sorcery raging against his skin. Breathe.

Now what? The promise of an evening away from utter emptiness the best way he could think of spending it ripped out from his grasp, and not just that it had been taken but the way she’d left. Hardly a word. Hardly a goodbye. No sense of regret while Cain felt sick with it.

How was it she managed to evoke these feelings in him when no one else could? The highs were breathtaking but if he could escape these lows forever, he’d excise every memory of her just to achieve it, but that was the only thing that could, because how could he ever leave it behind so long as he could close his eyes and picture her face?

Oh, he’d tried, back in the days of their apocalypse where she fought against everything he’d built, but even before he’d truly come to know her, she’d been a plague on him. The flash of sunshine that left his darkness stained and impure.

So now what? Nothing for it but to escape the memory of what could have been. Pitiful, truly, but he ever picked up the needle to escape – reality, boredom, pain, memories, the chill that haunted his bones – so why not the memory of her? Perhaps it was boredom he escaped after all. How could he turn his mind to anything when she played on it so?

Just something to fill his empty night.

A long, low sofa bracketed off the lounge from the rest of the room, and behind it, across vast, white tiles, an open plan kitchen filled the back corner of the apartment. Cain circled the sofa to it, absently pushing a chair back beneath the glass dining table as he went. She never did tuck the chairs in.

He typed a text to Casper while he flicked back the days on the desk calendar. Four different stabs at ‘Are you alright?’ before he found the black X inked in two weeks ago. Plenty of time between doses. Cain marked today off and gave up on the text, tossing the phone on the sofa.

Just a little something to smooth the edges.

His phone buzzed as he slid the needle out of his arm. Amber bliss surged through his veins and already the warmth flooded his mind as he snatched it up with clumsy fingers. Ella. Grinning, Cain unwrapped the already loosened belt from his arm and gave his body up to the sofa cloud.

Sorry I had to run. You better not finish that wine without me!

Then even as he stared at the first text, dopey smile on his lips, another buzzed through. Images of her sitting beside him flickered in a white halo, whispering the words with a bright chirpy grin.

And don’t think you’ve gotten out of party planning that easy!

Cain laughed. Dreams flirted at the edges of his vision, and he had to squint at the keyboard to hit the right letters.

Unfortunately, I’m currently attending the wine’s funeral. I’ll add my own to the agenda – will that get me out of party planning?

Her next message took too long. Cain stared at the phone for a while, scratching at the warm itches spreading up his sides, before tossing it onto the sofa. Music twinkled in the background and echoed in the empty corners of the flat. The white walls cut a hostile waste around him, clashing against the hollowness in the centre of his skull.

Had he missed her message? No. He flicked the TV on to some ancient Midsomer Murders re-run. That filled the silence a little, at least, but where it should be the orchestra to his mind slipping away, it stuck. Good hits put a burst of tingling at the hollow of his throat like a knot of static noise, but this time there was little more than fingers pushing against bone. Not nearly enough, and Ella still crawled under his skin

Eventually, her message came through, buzzing just before he pressed on the screen for the thousandth time to check.

RIP wine, it read, followed by a little skull. If it’s your funeral then it’s mine too! I’ll DIE if I have to do this without you buying fifty gallons of lube with me

Maybe there was that heroin warmth, blooming in his chest as his lagging mind finally ticked over her message. Maybe it hadn’t been stupid offering to help her. Maybe she really did want him to.

Il alays be there tl percs excesibe vols on sexy sundries witj yo.

The spelling improved with an edit.

This time his phone buzzed even as he let it drop against his chest. My hero, she wrote, followed by a winking face.

Laughter burst from his lips again, blooming on the hot air in his chest. Her hero. Cain’s eyes fluttered closed.

Her eyes would dance as she said that, fingers sliding into the side of his hair and her thumb running over his jaw. His heart thundered just to think of it. An impossible, breath-taking ache. His thumb dawdled over the pages of brightly coloured emojis until he spotted the vivid red of a heart.

He’d almost forgotten he’d sent it when her reply came, startling him awake. One word.

Huh?

Cain’s heart jumped up his throat. Shit. He sat up and dragged his hand over his face. Shit. Shit. Shit. How long had that taken her? Thirteen minutes. Thirteen minutes of staring at the stupid little cartoon heart with nausea most likely swarming through her gut. Just like it gripped him now. My hero. That had been a bloody joke, not some confession. Now what?

Cain flicked through the pages of emojis again. What was next to the heart? Nothing but more hearts. Shit. What about…?

A little needle with red liquid spurting out the top. Cain tapped that one and threw the phone across the sofa. Why did he keep replying so stupidly fast anyway when she took so long? Like he didn’t have an ounce of a life outside her. Well, he’d wait on this one. Focus entirely on Inspector whatshisname as he questioned some doddering old woman.

The buzz had him jerking upright again. He had his thumb poised to tap in his password before remembering he wasn’t going to reply to this one straight away. Just five minutes. Keep it casual. What had he sent before anyway? Oh the bloody heart. Bloody hell. Definitely keep it casual. Cain dragged his hands over his face and fixed his eyes on the TV. Just five minutes. Maybe another hit…