He stumbled to the window, pressing his palm against the cold glass. Down in the street, the late-night traffic had stopped. People were standing still on the sidewalks, their heads tilted back, mouths slightly agape. They were all listening.

Elias woke up with the taste of copper in his mouth. He sat up in the darkness of his apartment, the neon bleed from the city outside painting his sheets in bruised purples. He could feel the vibration in the pit of his stomach—a low, rhythmic thrumming that synced perfectly with his heartbeat.