Gray would love it. Shadow would make sure Gray eventually recognized him as worthy of licking.
He just needed to know enough things about Gray, but how was he to continue gathering information when Gray went to take a shower? Shadow glanced at Gray’s backpack, and the answer was obvious. Even without Gray around, there were ways to find out more about him.
Shadow had learned that people’s possessions said a lot about them. Like the leather vests with patches the Kings of Hell wore most of the time, the ruby ring on Beast’s finger, or the phone Elliot constantly used to make videos.
So he poured the contents of Gray’s backpack onto his bed and sorted them into piles. Food, medicine, a Band-aid, a cell phone, more protein bars but also a single-portion pack of cookies, and then, a small book-like thing bound with leather and secured shut with a strap.
He opened it to find it was a notebook with slots for plastic cards, and also held what looked like a car key. Shadow shook it for good measure, to make sure he didn’t miss anything, and he’d been right to do so, because three pieces of paper fell out. Two were notes with numbers that told Shadow nothing, but the third was something else altogether.
A photo.
At first, Shadow just stared at the picture, unsure whether this wasn’t an optical illusion. Gray was in the photo in the company of… another Gray?
One had a toothy smile and held a lit cigarette in his fingers, the other hid the lower half of his face behind a bottle of beer, as if he were embarrassed to smile in public. They sat together on a beat-up sofa with more empty bottles lining the shelf above their heads.
Neither Gray had the silvery hair Shadow was so in love with, but when he stared into the photo for long enough, he could tell that the Gray with the bottle was his, the other—an impostor. There was something about their body language, something intangible in their eyes that told Shadow the truth.
A different thought struck him like lightning and tore him in two.
What if… what if the man in the shower was the real impostor? Was the real Gray, the one who would have instantly felt a connection with Shadow, trapped somewhere? Then again, Shadow vividly remembered rising from the floor, and he hadn’t left Gray’s side since then. On the other hand, they weren’t physically inseparable anymore. The swap could have happened at any time.
What if Baal had called upon the wrong shadow? Wouldn’t Shadow have known something was wrong? Invisible ants crawled under his skin faster with each passing second.
The sound of falling water ceased while he examined the picture, but Shadow was still surprised when the door to the bathroom opened all too soon. Gray stepped outside with just the towel draped around his hips, and his usually fluffy hair lay flat against his scalp. Unlike the other bikers, Gray’s beautiful skin had been mostly left in its natural state, but the tattoo on his solar plexus remained a mystery. Inked on the canvas stretched over hard muscle, as subtle as Gray’s beauty, it depicted a circle containing a black and white side, and Gray wouldn’t tell him what it was.
Shadow got up and held out the photo to Gray, breathless from the tension inside him. “Which one are you?”
Gray, who only then looked straight at him, froze like a spider trying to remain unseen to avoid capture. His eyes widened, and his chest expanded slightly as he took a shallow inhale. For the briefest moment, a part of Shadow wilted, convinced he’d discovered something that would send Gray running, but then Gray’s face twisted, and he bolted at Shadow. “Give this back!”
“Not until you tell me what this means!” Shadow held the photo up so Gray couldn’t reach it. “Which Gray are you?”
Gray sucked in air through his nose, his pupils moving frantically to take in Shadow and the photo at once. His face, which had been so ripe and rosy from the shower, was now drained of color, and there was a slight, barely-noticeable tremble to the outstretched hand.
“No. This is mine. Mine.”
“Do you not understand? What if I’m his shadow?”
Gray’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he let out a choked sound. “No. I am his shadow. Now give me back my photo or I swear I’m going to kick your ass back into the basement!”
Shadow stuck the photo into Gray’s hand quicker than he could think and stepped back, even more frightened than before. “I need to know. I’m trying to understand you, and all I get is more questions.”
The moment the piece of paper was back in Gray’s possession, his movements gained energy, as if the picture had the power to grant him far greater strength. The flimsy knot on the towel untied, sending the damp fabric to the floor, and it might have been a conscious attempt at distracting Shadow, because the next thing he felt was a punch that knocked the air out of him and sent him to his knees.