Chapter 54 The Monsters

• The cold felt heavier that morning. Not colder, but heavier—like the air itself weighed more. It clung to Lucy’s skin even beneath her coat and scarf as she stepped out to tend the rooftop greenhouse. Thin daylight filtered through gray clouds, the city’s skyline blurred by frost and drifting mist.
• Inside the greenhouse, the air was marginally warmer. Condensation clung to the inside of glass panes, and the green leaves of her herbs shimmered with tiny beads of moisture. Lucy moved between rows of sage and frost-moss, clipping delicate stems with a small pair of shears.
• Downstairs, Daren was awake. She’d heard the soft creak of the floorboards and the faint clatter of a cup in the kitchen. He didn’t call up to her. He never did.