Strays

Chapter 19 *Edited*

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do I look bedridden?"

He threw his hands up in defeat. "I was just asking out of friendly concern."

I started toward the floor jumpers, ignoring him. I knew I was being rude, but at least I refrained from telling him where to shove his 'friendly concern'. What the hell was his angle?

The studio on the fourth floor was empty when we made it up there. One of the sets had been partially destroyed because of a 'fire' that occurred in the programme and the smell of witch smoke was thick in the air. It wasn't as potent as the smoke from regular fire — witch smoke burned pure energy, which sucked a lot of the impurities and toxins out of it — but it still smelled pretty bad.

"We're dismantling the rest of it," Ricardo explained as he rolled up his sleeves. "Anything untouched by the fire can go downstairs in one of the storage rooms. The rest is getting thrown out."

I set to work, starting with the faux staircase in the centre of the set. There was no 'upstairs'; the stairs spiralled upwards into a hole in the ceiling where it abruptly ended in darkness. I jogged up as far as I could and sat down on the top stair, setting to work on the wood. It was still in good condition so I had a feeling Ricardo wouldn't appreciate me punching through the beams and splintering the wood, but it was oh-so-tempting to try.

I sighed and worked on the screws, twisting them carefully until the first beam came loose. When it was free, I called down to Theo and he held his arms out, ready to catch it. We worked together like that for a little while; when he had a good armful, he took a trip downstairs and when he came back, I'd have another one waiting for him. Ricardo began tearing down one of the walls, showering the place in plaster, and it looked a little like snow floating in the air around me.

The first two hours slipped by easily. I was near the bottom of the staircase, after taking apart most of the steps and sending Theo off with another load, when I heard the door creak open.

"There's a new load," I said as I dropped another plank down onto the pile, not looking up. I started on the next one but when I didn't hear Theo's footsteps approaching, I frowned, twisting around to see what he was doing.

But it wasn't him.

My mother was standing inside the door, her face as blank and implacable as ever. She was watching me — studying me, sort of — in a way that made me feel like a lab rat on display. My fingers tightened around the wood in my hands, squeezing a little too hard, and I felt something splinter. I remembered what Theo had said to me before — "She was watching. You, I mean." — and irritation surged through me.

I shook my head and looked away.

Not going there.

When I twisted back around, I caught Ricardo standing on the other end of the set, staring at both of us. Recognition slowly dawned on his face. We weren't that much alike, apart from our hair, but I was still surprised that he hadn't figured it out earlier.

His brows lifted in surprise.

The door opened again and I heard Theo's heavy footsteps on the ground, followed by his sigh of annoyance when he caught sight of the pile of wood I'd left him.

When I glanced back up, she was gone.