Dreams of Shreds and Tatters by Amanda Downum

wearđ fēasceaft funden...”
    By the time Hrothgar built his mead-hall, she was asleep in his arms.
    H ours later , r ae sat on her bed, safely enclosed in familiar walls. She tilted the vial, watching lamplight gleam against the curve of the glass and in the golden fluid inside. A little murkier than it should be, like tap water after a storm. What was Stephen cutting it with? Arsenic, maybe, or strychnine—one of the usual poisons.
    She needed to slow down, be careful. The side-effects were impossible to ignore. Auras and tracers she could handle, but not these walking, stalking shadows. And if they weren’t hallucinations...
    She wrapped her arms around her knees, hair falling in long black tendrils around her face. This was too weird, too dangerous. But the stars itched in her blood, calling to her, and it was getting harder and harder to resist.
    Her stomach growled, the first hunger pangs she’d felt in days. All they had in the kitchen was ramen, though, and MSG always made her sick.
    Chemicals, man—they’ll fuck you up. She laughed softly against her knees.
    She needed to get out of here, but she wasn’t sure which here she meant. Away from Jason, maybe, but two years weighed like an albatross around her neck. It wasn’t really his fault he didn’t make her happy anymore. They wanted different things, but that was a stupid line, and she didn’t know what she wanted anyway. She could call her sister, but the thought of going home to Fort Charles was nearly worse than the shadow monsters.
    After three AM already: Jason would be home any minute. If she was going to do this she should get on with it. Mania’s disassociative effects happened randomly and sometimes not at all. Sitting in the dark talking to colors wasn’t what she needed tonight. She needed out. Her body would be safe here in the welllit room. She’d even dragged a lamp in from the living room to keep the shadows out of the corners. If she could only reach the singing stars, all this would be worth it.
    She unscrewed the vial and tilted her head back. Hard not to twitch away from the drops, no matter how many times she did this. Cold and sharp, and she shuddered as they spread across her eyes. Bitter chemical tears beaded on her eyelashes when she blinked.
    It started slow: a tingle in her fingers and toes, a shiver creeping under her skin. Then came the warmth, slow and rich, filling her veins with liquid sunlight. The constant winter chill faded and Rae sighed. She lay back, floating, watching the plaster twist across the ceiling. Waiting for the moment when she could slough off her too-heavy flesh and fly.
    Instead the world opened beneath her and dropped her into the dark.
    Falling. Floating. Drifting in freefall until something caught her and spun her into its gravity.
    She stood in a hallway lined with doors, watching a hand that wasn’t hers reach for a doorknob.
    The door opened and the world exploded.
    Light and heat and color, shattering on her skin. The smell of wine and honey and rot-sweet roses. A wild cacophony rose around her, pounding drums and a screaming refrain: Euan euan eu oi oi oi! Rae stumbled, but hands held her, bore her up till her feet learned the steps. Round and round they circled, chanting and laughing as she took up the chorus.
    Euan euan. Iä iä eu oi oi oi!
    Her hair flew as she twirled, skirts whipping her legs. She’d never felt so wild, so alive. A dark-haired woman took her in her arms and kissed her, all wine-sweet lips and sharp, sharp teeth. Rae looked up into a maenad’s laughing black eyes.
    And fell into the darkness again. The bacchanal vanished, leaving her gasping and dizzy on the bed. Her throat ached as if she’d screamed.
    Jason leaned over her, his hair brushing her cheek. “Babe, are you okay?” He sighed when she focused on him, shoulders sagging. “Shit, I thought you were having a seizure.”
    The fire still burned, too hot for her to speak. She grabbed his neck and pulled him down,