Two Shots

”Hey, ‘Dagi?”

Adagio didn’t answer. She stayed as she was, fully clothed and wide-awake, tucked under the thin, stained bedsheets. She knew her sister would continue anyway.

“This place sucks.” Ah, eloquent as always. Adagio stared up at the broken lightbulb hanging from a broken ceiling fan and swallowed hard. But, then again, her sister wasn’t much for words. This was about as close as she got to spilling her guts.

“I know,” she said back. Her voice was hoarse and ragged. Stupid. She finally turned to Aria on the couch a couple feet from her, who was sitting up against the moth-eaten pillow. Aria’s face was haggard with shadows and the dusty light from the streets outside, and her lips were pressed into a straight line.

“I hate this,” Aria hissed. Her eyes were like moons. “I really do.”

Adagio gritted her teeth until it felt like her jaw was about to break. “You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, but her voice lacked any malice. She was far too tired to be angry.

Aria’s gaze softened as she leaned back against the couch and fell silent. Adagio watched her for a moment, the awful feeling that had been following her all day clawing back up her throat. She was their big sister; their guardian—God knows Sonata needed one—and what had she done for them? She glanced down at her youngest sister, blissfully asleep by her side. She had let them lose their amulets and their voices, and watched their life go staright down the drain, that’s what. After they couldn’t control anyone anymore, the homeowners had snapped and kicked them out on the streets, with only the clothes on their backs and a couple 20s to their name.

And now they were here, in this shit-hole of a hotel—where the shower was overrun with roaches, the walls were cracked and dripping, and the bed was moldy and rotted. Adagio, loathe as she was to admit it, was scared. She just wanted to go home. (And home? Where was that? None of them knew.)

“I know,” she repeated. Softer. She reached out a shaking hand to Aria. Her sister curled up around her lone pillow, her eyes squeezed shut. She took Adagio’s hand ever-so-gently. “We’ll get through this.” Adagio settled herself on her back again, tightening her grip on Aria’s hand. She didn’t know how, or when.

She looked out the window where she could see the faintest glow of moonlight on the floor. But, hey, they were the Sirens; they’d manage.