Chapter 10

A quiver raced across my shoulders since zero hair reinforced my decision to chase after Ellison. But also because without my normal blanket of warmth, the air pricked a chill from my scalp to my toes. No wonder Pop wore a stocking cap all the time.

Moon opened the folding door, and stabs of early morning sunlight burned red behind my eyelids.

"Have a nice day," the robotic voice said.

"Fuck you." A butchering was not my idea of a nice day.

I stood and reeled into Moon. The tiny booth pitched and swayed under my feet. Without the weight of my hair and chains, my head felt lighter, like it might float to the ceiling and pop. Rusted balls, that was a bad analogy for someone who was about to hurl themselves into deep space. I braced a hand against the seat back and waited for my equilibrium to adjust.

"You okay?" Moon whispered over her shoulder.

"The worst is over," I said, and I hoped that was the truth with everything I had.