Everyone Knows It's Wendi

           “Why not? She is more than capable, she knows you—”

           “I don’t want to involve her. Besides, her dad hates me.”

           He rolled his eyes. “He does not hate you.”

           “It doesn’t matter; she doesn’t even need to know that he’s here.”

           And Christian closed his mouth, nodding at the table.

           William looked up for the first time. “You told her, didn’t you.”

           He grinned.

           “My God.” He set his phone on the patio table.

           “She’s my friend! We talk! How was I supposed to not tell her, ‘Oh, by the way, William’s seventeen-year-old self got warped to our time and he’s crashing with us for a while.’”

           Now William leaned forward. “It’s actually a very simple concept. You just don’t say anything about it.”

           “Maybe for you, but not for normal people,” Christian chided. “I didn’t mention what the plan was to her. But I know if I did, she would want to help.”

           William scratched his chin. “Is she the only ex you’re still friends with?”

           The younger pondered for a moment. “Yep. I guess she is.”

           “… She was a good one.”

           “I know. That’s why we’re still friends.” He smiled and splayed his knees apart, rocking them inward and outward in his swimming trunks. “Kinda why I think Granger hates me more than he hates you.”

           William scoffed. “Yeah. He hates you more for dating his daughter than me for murdering his best friend.”

           “Who murdered who’s best friend?” Will stepped out on the patio with a bag of chips and shut the door behind him.

           William glanced over his shoulder. “No one.”

           Will made a noise and sat down on the swing and stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth, some crumbs falling on his shirt.

           “Hey, Will, you wanna swim?”

           “Dad Vibes over here said I’m not allowed to swim in my underwear.” He gestured at William, eliciting a sneer from him.

           “We got you swim shorts, dude. Mom bought you some the other day.” Christian twisted around in his chair.

           “For real?” He sat up excitedly and the patio door opened again.

           Nikki stepped out in her sports bra and yoga pants, putting her hair back into a ponytail. “Hey, William. Let’s spar.”

           The captain replied, remaining seated. “I’m not feeling it today. Sorry.”

           “Chicken.”

           “A little.” He looked at her. “Why don’t you ask him?” He nodded at Will.

           She turned to look at him on the swing. He looked back at her with another mouthful of chips. “He is you.” Her eyes lit up. “Hey. I bet he’s faster than you, right?”

           William nodded with a raised eyebrow. “And no S-A misfires yet.”

           She turned to the teen fully. “You. Let’s spar.”

           He put more chips in his mouth before he answered. “Nah. I’m good.”

           “Why not.”

           “I’m busy.”

           Nikki perched her hands on her hips. “Yeah? Gonna be busy drinking more hand sanitizer?”

           “No,” Will rebutted, then mumbled. “Sam hid it somewhere.”

           “Come on.”

           “I don’t want to.”

           “Because you know you can’t beat me.” She tested.

           “I don’t care.”

           Nikki turned to William. “How does this work, what do I do here.”

           He didn’t look up from his phone. “Try food.”

           She turned back to Will. “Spar with me and do your best and I’ll buy you a large pizza, any toppings, with hot wings.”

           “And breadsticks?”

           “Of course.”

           Will promptly stood from the swing and wiped his chip fingers off on his jeans and led the way to the open part of the yard with the basketball goal. “This’ll be quick,” he mumbled.

           Nikki laughed out loud as she followed him, and William said, “Oh yes, please. Go in with that attitude; this will be hilarious.” But suddenly, as abrupt and overtaking as any intrusive thought he’d ever had, an idea. A solution to the biggest problem he’d ever had in his life, arguably. It was so simple and so effective that he couldn’t believe it was just now dawning on him.

           “Oh, I’m getting front row seats for this,” said Christian, standing with his towel.

           “Hey.”

           The blonde looked at him with his eyebrows raised receptively.

           “Go ahead and ask Rose for me. Please.”

           He grinned. “You got it, Boss. You gonna come watch this?”

           “Yeah, in a minute. You go ahead.”

           Christian trotted off the patio to follow Will and Nikki.

           William quickly navigated to Odette’s contact and tapped ‘call’.

           “Alo!” she sang when she answered.

           “Hey,” he sighed.

           “Uh oh. I know that tone,” she said. He could almost hear her dropping what she was doing. “What’s on your mind.”

           He took a breath. “… If the universe presents an opportunity for you to take back your biggest mistake, wouldn’t you be obligated to take advantage of that?”

           She was already a couple steps ahead. She always was. “… Will cannot have any memory of being here or meeting you or anyone else, Cat,” she said softly.

           “I know. But—if I asked Rosaleigh for her help with wiping his memory… I know that she would have control over what he remembers. What if there was a way to plant a seed… to keep him from doing one of the worst things I have ever done?”

           There was a brief moment of silence from her end. “… You mean Todd.”

           William dipped his chin with his phone to his ear. “Yes.”

           Now she took her turn sighing. “If you removed Todd from your history, you would have never left Scarlet. And you would have never started Ability Control, and we would not be anywhere as close to eradicating her as we are now. The literal fate of the world depends on your encounter with Todd.” She spoke gently and slowly.

           “I don’t mean never meet him,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and moving from the patio chair to the railing to lower his voice. “Just don’t kill him. Let him say what he says, let it still do its thing, but let him live.”

           “We have no way of knowing what impact that would have—”

           “Odette, I’ve wished my whole life,” he lightly tapped his fist on the railing, “that I could undo this one thing and now I can. Everybody has always told me all my life about fate and destiny, and I have never felt that once until right now.”

           “… I’m going to ask you some questions that are going to upset you.”

           He closed his mouth and listened.

           “One. How much of your regret of killing Todd would be removed if you had never met the twins and Sam.”

           If she had asked the question differently, he would have had a retort that he would not have had time to consider the validity of. But because of the way she worded it, he couldn’t verbalize anything before he thought about it.

           “Two. What about any other regrets? You… did a lot of things and were witness to a lot of things. What about that little town. The one that got you a new name in the media. And what about Danielle.”

           He clenched his teeth. When it seemed she had made her point, he mumbled, “I didn’t know you know about Danielle.”

           She maintained an even and tender tone. “You told me years ago when you were drunk.”

           He took a deep breath. “Those too. Right them all.”

           “Uil’yam,” she all but whispered. He sighed and she continued. “Do you see though? If you change one thing, you should change them all. And you must not change them all because there absolutely would be massive, potentially negative differences in the resulting future. Will’s arrival was never supposed to happen—”

           “But it did,” he interjected. “How could you know it wasn’t supposed to happen when it did happen.”

           “… You can’t do anything to jeopardize the creation of Ability Control. I’m sorry. I know this is burdensome for you. But your obligation is to your future now. Not your past, nor anyone else’s.”

           He dipped his head again. He should probably give some confirmation that he heard her, but it would sound too much like he agreed with her, so he said nothing.

           “So, have you decided to ask Rosaleigh to alter Will’s memory?”

           He scratched his jaw. “Yeah.”

           “I’m glad. You already know her. And from what I’ve heard, she’s a very versatile, talented telepath.”

           “She’s the best I’ve ever met,” he murmured.

           “Let me know what I can do to assist.”

           “Will do. Talk to you later.”

           “Goodbye.”

           He hung up and slid his phone in his pocket, filling his lungs to maximum capacity and holding it for a significant moment before releasing it through his nose. William traveled to the section of the yard where Nikki and Will appeared to be finished sparring by now, the air still charged from their clashing temperatures. He came to a stop next to Christian and crossed his arms, watching the two pant as the energy faded from their hands.

           Will was doubled over with his hands on his knees, his dark hair sticking to his forehead. “Where… did you learn… to fight like that,” he gasped.

           Nikki grinned, her shiny chest heaving. “You!” She stretched her triceps. “That’s the best workout I’ve had in ages!”

           Will dropped to his butt in the grass and rubbed his ankle where some ice had crystallized around his sock.

           “Come on. I promised you pizza.” She tightened her ponytail and went back to toward the house.

           William could still feel the chill emanating from her as she passed, but his eyes were stuck on Will. So many thoughts—too many thoughts—were prevalent now that he knew of a way to manipulate time. Rationally, Odette was right. He knew that. But wasn’t there something to be said for his chance to do it over landing in his lap? When Will met his eyes, he didn’t have the civility to look away. Will looked away first, peeling himself off the ground to go ride with Nikki to the pizza place.

           “You good, man?” Christian shook William from his stupor. Mostly.

           “… Yeah.”

           “Still so crazy isn’t it? One for the books.” The blonde clapped a hand on his shoulder as he went back to the pool.

           “Why not? You said you were gonna find someone to wipe my memory before you sent me back anyway.” He had a drink of his orange juice.

           “I am. But I think another reasonable goal would to be to avoid causing you another existential crisis in the meantime.”

           Will inhaled. “I’m sorry I lost it last night. I should be happy that… I turn into you.”

           William furrowed his brow into the fridge.

           “And you have such a cool place, a motorcycle, an awesome car, all this food, a hot girlfriend. And so much money.”

           Ah. That sounded more accurate.

           “You’re obviously doing something right. It just freaks me out how different we are.”

           William flipped the pancake over in the skillet. “It freaks me out too.”

           “Yeah, but… at least you already knew we were this different.”

           That was true. But he’d also spent a long time trying to forget.

           “So, what happens. Does she majorly piss me off? Does she leave me behind before I wake up again and I just say fuck it?”

           “We’re not talking about this,” William shook his head. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now do you want more strawberries and whipped cream or is this one gonna be just syrup.” When he didn’t receive a reply, he turned around. Will’s seat was empty. “… Where the—” He heard rummaging in his master bathroom. William set the pan off the hot eye and swept into his bathroom to find Will on the floor in front of the cabinet, digging through contents therein. “The fuck are you doing?”

           “Why do you have… so much shampoo. And conditioner?” He held up a bottle. “This is for GIRLS.”

           “Conditioner is for people with hair—”

           “Well, your hair is still really nice, so I’ll let that slide,” he said with his head back in the cabinet.

           “Get out of my shit—”

           “Ooh!” He held up a box of condoms. “Big dick energy.”

           “Put—… where did you hear that.”

           “Christian.”

           “Figures. That’s not even the right conte—will you get out of my cabinet?”

           He picked up an orange medication bottle. “Here we go! ‘Paliperidone’,” he pronounced slowly. “Is this what you gave me last night?”

           “No—”

           “What’s it for?”

           “It doesn’t matter, get the fuck out—”

           “Lithium?” he said, holding another bottle. “You take lithium? Isn’t that the shit they put in batteries?”

           “It’s not the same—”

           “Looks like fun.” Will opened the bottle.

           William snatched it away before he could empty any pills out. “It’s for the hallucinations, all right?” He secured the cap. “You know how you see and hear shit that isn’t there? Well, it’s not normal. And this stuff helps.” He put it back in the cabinet, growling at how Will had ruined his organization under his sink.

           “Everybody I know sees and hears shit that isn’t there,” the teen said, holding his bare feet together and “flapping” his knees like wings.

           “That’s because you’re all the same flavor of fucked up.” He closed the cabinet door. “Now get out of my bathroom.”

           “I wanna take another bath.”

           He sighed. “Fine. But stay out of my stuff. And use the towels from your closet upstairs.” William left and went back to the kitchen to have his own breakfast now, some cold eggs and the last piece of bacon Will had left with some black coffee. After Will had started his bath, William went about checking his email on his phone to see if there had been any reply from any of the Deviants with telepathic Special Abilities. No dice. Soon after his focus had been repositioned, something stole it away again. Will was singing in the bathroom. He couldn’t hear the words, but that melody grasped him and whisked him away to another time. It was whimsical, so he knew it wasn’t a song that he necessarily liked and wanted to listen to all the time. But there was something to it. He rather impatiently waited for Will to leave the bathroom and looked up eagerly from the television when he walked through in a towel, his wet hair hanging in strings in front of his eyes. “Hey. What… was that song you were singing.”

           Will stopped and looked at him. “What song.”

           “The… the—” He hummed the tune.

           “I don’t know really. Uh…” He bounced at his knees a little and sang. “Hold your horses now~”

           “We sleep until the sun goes down,” William nodded as it came back to him.

           “Through the woods we ran,”

           “Deep into the mountain sound.” He smirked. “Why that song?”

           “It’s stuck in my head. Because after our first night, Sheridan sat on the roof and sang it while she braided my hair.”

           “Sheridan!” He shook his finger. “That’s it.”

           “That’s what.”

           “That’s… the nostalgia I was feeling. When I heard you singing it.”

           “I don’t really like it a whole lot—”

           “I don’t either, but…” William nodded. “That was a good night.”

           “I like the…” Will started slapping a fictional bass guitar and making the sound with his mouth.

           “I know. Ah.” He picked up the television remote and flipped to another application. “I know some stuff you haven’t heard that you’ll like.”

           Little did William realize he had actuated the rest of their day. As it turned out, once they started talking about an interest they shared, nothing could shut them up. Neither of them could keep up with how many songs they wanted to listen to once it had begun. William was arguably having as much fun as Will was. It was something special to witness.

           Their access to a functional radio in Alpha clan was very limited. So much so that when they found one that worked that ran on batteries instead of electricity (because Pop could never control his Ability and would always fry the thing), they rationed its usage much like they did their food. The Wolf Pack took turns on different days listening to the station of their choice. And when That Song came on, everyone was instructed to shut up and vibe. Will had never had anything but a radio and a nearly dead iPod for a week. To be told he could listen to a song on repeat as many times as he wished was like telling a child who had picked a toy at a store to go ahead and pick another.

           Will was bouncing and jabbering into the wee hours of the morning, working on his fifth can of Dr. Pepper. They had started a hundred separate music artist conversations (and maybe hadn’t finished one) by the time William realized how late it was when the soreness in his eyes alerted him that he needed sleep. “I godda hit the hay,” he said, standing up from the armchair. “But look at this app on the T-V upstairs. Just go crazy.”

           “Seriously? You don’t care?”

           William massaged his brow. “Sometimes.”

           There was a short moment of silence before Will slammed the brakes hard enough to throw William into the dashboard.

           “JESUS FUCK,” he cursed. “WHAT?”

           “The FUCK do you MEAN sometimes?” Will yelled back.

           “These are PRISTINE brake pads, I swear to God if you do that again—”

           “My S-A just STOPS WORKING?” His adolescent voice squeaked.

           “Moments—seconds! OCCASIONALLY there are… misfires and it doesn’t work for SECONDS—”

           “WHY?”

           William pulled his hand so hard down his face he could have peeled it off. “Brain damage.”

           Will blinked at him. “From what?”

           “From too many nights like tonight. Can we fucking go?”

           The younger stared at him long enough for William to watch his pupils shrink in what little light was present, his mouth slightly agape. He turned his vacant gaze on the steering wheel.

           The captain sighed. “It’s… just a contusion that didn’t age well. Our line of work happens to be quite generous with the head injuries.” He shrugged. “It just is what it is.”

           Will slowly turned his head back to him. “… What did you just say?”

           William clenched his jaw. He had forgotten how opposed to that saying he used to be. There was a time when nothing set him off worse than someone saying that to him, and he was an idiot for forgetting that Will was from that time.

           “If this is my future—if YOU are my future? Fuck. This.” Will snatched the nine-millimeter from William’s thigh and pressed the tip of the barrel to his own temple and pulled the trigger.

           Click.

           William stared harshly. “You didn’t think I was gonna empty a clip back there, dipshit?” He jerked the gun back and put it in the glove box. “Get out. I’m driving.”

           After a short delay, Will slowly opened the door and got out. They switched places and William drove in spite of his constricted chest and intermittent struggle for a breath. Before they had reached home, Will had started mumbling to himself. Mumbling graduated to talking, and soon yelling. Yelling in response to voices no one could hear but him. Through his irritation with the kid, he attempted to bring him back with his own voice and his touch, but it seemed to only make it worse.

           When they made it back to his apartment, Will wasted no time in closing himself in his bedroom. William ran his fingers through his hair with a deep sigh, standing in the living room briefly, then retrieving one of his own “emergency pills”. He went up to the guest bedroom and entered, crouching next to the teen who had crammed himself in the corner with his knuckles knotted in his hair. “Hey.” William took the water bottle from the nightstand then tapped his hand. “Take this.”

           Will sucked a few breaths in and eyed the pill momentarily before grabbing it and slapping it into his open mouth. “What is it,” he gasped right before a sip of water.

           It wasn’t wise to tell him another condition he had right now, so he just said, “It will make the voices stop.” When Will went back to squeezing his temples together, he made an attempt. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot. It’s… a lot for me too. You being here.” He swallowed. “But I have a purpose. You have a purpose. And I know you can’t see it right now, but it makes it a little easier to be alive when you understand why. It balances out some of the bad shit. Makes some things worth it.”

           “I don’t know who the fuck you are,” he squeaked, on the verge of hyperventilation. “I—I knew I shouldn’t have made it as far as you, I knew it.” He slammed his head back against the wall.

           There was nothing he could say. All the things he wanted to say like, “that’s because I tried my hardest to not be you,” or “stop thinking of yourself for a second” or “you will never have the success I have if you don’t change,” meant nothing to him. He had no frame of reference. And, doing the math quickly in his head, wouldn’t even begin to be in a place to listen to such things for another eight or nine years. So, William left and went downstairs to sit in his armchair with his phone. He hovered over the Call button on Sam’s contact momentarily before tapping it.

           “Hey!” she chimed.

           “Hey. I… did something stupid. And I need your help.”

           “How bad is it? Are you at the hospital?”

           He caught himself before saying no and realized that perhaps maybe he should have gone in retrospect. Making his confession multi-faceted, against his better judgment. “Scratch that. I did a couple of stupid things. And I need your help.”

           In listening to him explain what happened, Sam followed her typical pattern of a sickly sigh and anxious silence before gathering herself and calmly and concisely replying. She scolded him—only once—for attempting to go alone and then for involving Will. And as per her nature, she segued straight into the next problem. She didn’t blame him for having not thought of not telling Will about his condition. And as a solution to the current situation, she offered to come over, which was what William was hoping for.

           When she arrived, he tried to articulate once. “I don’t know what to do. I’m not the guy to help, clearly. He won’t listen to reason. He wouldn’t understand. He doesn’t yet… have enough self-awareness or… sympathy to even hear what I’m saying—”

           “You are the guy, honey,” she said, slipping her shoes off. “You are literally the guy.”

           He blinked.

           “It’s not about how you’re different.” She hung up her coat next to her purse. “It’s about how you’re the same.” Sam faced him. “Now, I am pretty sure I know how to calm him down. But how about a pop quiz?”

           William stared.

           “He’s you, babe. When this was happening to you, when you had bad days… what do you now know that you needed that you didn’t have?”

           He blinked again and took a stab. “Understanding?”

           “Yeah. But something even simpler than that.” She winked and went upstairs. William followed as she quietly pushed the door open and lowered herself to her knees beside the distressed teen. William watched from the doorway as she cooed soft words of reassurance. Little by little, she coaxed his head onto her shoulder. And within the next couple of minutes, William was rather amazed when Will had wadded himself up flush against her, mostly in her lap. Soon, the youngest stopped chanting and mumbling, his sounds being replaced with Sam’s nurturing and soothing voice as she hugged him close and brushed her fingers through his hair.

           Now he understood. Having been receiving regular psychotherapy for a few years now, one of the things his therapist had often mentioned was his confusion on what a maternal figure’s role was in his life, while also being starved for a mother’s affection. He didn’t even need anyone to tell him right now that things were going to work out for the best, or that the voices didn’t know what they were talking about. He just needed a mom to hug him. Normally, he might have guessed Will had an ulterior motive, like copping a feel or making him jealous. But this was sincere. And Sam was right. It was fairly simple.

           “Colonel McPherson,” William said, his low tone echoing lightly throughout the concrete halls.

           “It’s not Colonel anymore,” he mumbled, not lifting his eyes from his book.

           William took a breath. “I’m William Milord, this is my colleague, Odette Malinovski. We were hoping to have a word with you if you don’t mind.”

           “I’m not doing interviews anymore,” he mumbled again.

           “We’re not here for an interview. Well, not that kind.”

           Finally the man lifted his gaze and stared over the top of his readers, his blue eyes glancing between them.

           William nodded at his book. “You like poetry?”

           “Yeah.” He tilted his book a bit. “He’s not my favorite, but he’s better than Dickenson.” He closed it and set it beside him. “What can I do for you.”

           The burly man shifted his weight. “You were discharged for using your Ability in combat, is that true.”

           “Dishonorably,” McPherson corrected, taking off his glasses and setting them on his book. “Dishonorably discharged.”

           “And they put you in here just for that?” Odette said, exasperated.

           “I also nearly drowned my superior officer,” he stated.

           “So, you’re Water then. So am I.” She smiled.

           “Ah,” he smiled with a polite nod of acknowledgement. “So you’re both Deviants wanting what from me, exactly.”

           “How would you like to not have a superior officer.” William lifted his chin.

           “I’m done with the military,” he retorted.

           “What about a branch made of Deviants.”

           McPherson’s eyes focused back on him. William saw the interest that sparked within and waited for his response. “You’re shitting me.”

           “Just got approved. And I need a general.”

           McPherson blinked. “And you want me.”

           William nodded.

           The inmate started laughing, shaking his head at the floor.

           William looked at Odette. She looked at her partner. “On ekstsentrichen.”

           “Funny you use that word, eccentric,” McPherson said, making both of them suddenly look back at him. “Isn’t that just the polite way of calling someone crazy?” He cocked his head.

           William raised his eyebrows at him and dipped his chin. “Net vezuchiy Ugaday?”

           McPherson smiled with closed lips. “Net.”

           The other man looked back at Odette. “And smart.”

           “What the hell makes you think I would be a good fit for this… new military branch as its general.”

           “I read your file. Among others. You were the one who had everything I was looking for.”

           McPherson gave him a sideways look. “Including the assault of a commanding officer too, I bet.”

           “Between the three of us?” William glanced down the hall then whispered with a wrinkle of his lip. “Especially that.”

           The inmate stared for another moment then sighed as he stood up and approached the bars. “Listen, kid,”

           William furrowed his brow in confusion. Kid?

           “I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m an old man; my time is precious. And if you’re wasting it, I consider that a serious offense.”

           “Precious time, yeah? Sitting and reading Yeats for two more months until you get out, then what?” William didn’t back down.

           The older man chuckled. “So, you want me to be your general. I suppose you came with six grand ready to bail me out today then.”

           “Better,” said Odette as she pulled an envelope from her bag and held it through the bars. “A Presidential pardon.”

           The grin on his face disappeared and he stared at the envelope before he quickly took it and flipped it over, finding the seal of the Oval Office. William watched him carefully break the seal and pull out the paper within delicately. He started to squint at it before he turned around and snatched up his readers and shoved them on his face. William and Odette watched him pore over the document until he blindly sat back down on his cot, still staring at the piece of paper he held in both hands. When he had finished, he looked up at them again.

           “Is that legit enough for you?” said William with a lazy blink.

           It was a moment before he spoke. “What branch were you in before.”

           “We weren’t.”

           McPherson glanced at William’s build and looked back at the paper to fold it carefully the way it had been to begin with. “Could have fooled me.”

           “Are you in or what.”

           “Wh-why now,” he stuttered, “You… made up a new branch of the military solely for Deviants—for what.”

           “Predominantly to fight Scarlet and her followers,” William answered, “but also to maintain peace between Deviants and humans. Ghosts and humans. Ghosts and Deviants.”

           He subtly nodded. “I’ve—said we have needed this for years. Literal years.”

           “We got it. It’s happening.”

           “You two. You did this? By yourselves?”

           “It wasn’t easy,” Odette said quietly. “It took a long time to get to this point. Now we just have to put it all together.”

           “And you want me to be the general.”

           William nodded.

           McPherson looked back at the paper in front of him. “… I would get to meet President Mauntell?”

           “Since technically she would be your commanding officer, yes. You’d probably have to.” William replied. “And I don’t recommend assaulting that one.”

           The older man started laughing. This time it wasn’t a condescending laugh. He was genuinely amused. He stood up and approached the bars again, this time sticking his hand through. “All right. I’ll do it.”

           William inhaled with a smile and sturdily shook his hand.

           He watched the skinny, gangly thing finish off another bag of potato chips. He had to shake off the surrealness of watching his own, much younger face enjoy food he himself hadn’t eaten in years. William picked up the remote and turned the volume down on the television. “I hate to ask. But I need a favor.”

           The younger, who the twins had dubbed Will to reduce confusion, met his eyes.

           “I… could use some extra firepower. For a… skirmish that’s going down tomorrow night that I am not supposed to know about. And if I ask my organization for help, I’ll be in trouble because I’ve been this close to being discharged for like nine years—”

           “Why the fuck did you join the military anyway,” he interrupted. “I can’t… imagine any future of mine where I’d be someone’s goddamn soldier.” He looked back to the TV.

           William blinked. “That’s… hilariously ironic. But the twins are unavailable, and I wouldn’t want to involve them in this anyway.”

           Will briefly furrowed his brow. “Mmmmno. I’m good.”

           The eldest stared. “… You know them.”

           The other looked back to him.

           “Dorian… Alex… Marko… Jane…”

           Will grimaced in disgust. “Ugh. Jane is still alive?”

           “Not for much longer,” he replied, watching him finally sit up.

           “Look,” Will dug a cigarette out of his jeans pocket. He froze when William promptly plucked it from his fingers to reinforce the no-smoking inside rule. The teen sighed. “The way I see it, I’m not even supposed to be here anyway. So, one, as far as I’m concerned, this is my only opportunity for a vacation from the shit you plan to eventually send me back to. Two, isn’t it bad for people who—have known us this long to see us together? And three, if something happens to me, that’s bad for you. And…” he waved his hand about and added an eyeroll, “apparently the whole world.”

           William looked away. “Fair enough.”

           “Why do you even have to get involved?”

           “Because people will die if I don’t.” He paused before an append, realizing the first statement had no meaning to him. “And I’m really outnumbered.”

           “About how many.”

           William rubbed the scruff on his jaw. “Twenty-five. Thirty.”

           The younger looked back at the TV. “I can take thirty. If I can take thirty, you can. Unless you’ve lost your touch.” He turned a soda can up to his lips.

           The older gave a singular, subtle nod and went toward his bedroom. “I guess we’ll find out.”

           “Hey.” Will turned and leaned over the back of the couch.

           The other stopped in the threshold of his bedroom, visible down the short hallway.

           “Why is that hilariously ironic.”

           “Who is Alpha clan’s combat leader?” he quipped with a couple bats of his eyelashes before shutting the door between them.

           Will paused before turning back to the television with a scoff and upping the volume.

             There was only so much that William could prepare for. He went in with the plan to cut off their access to the compound the followers had planned to raid, but with so many and just himself, he very well couldn’t trap them all inside a fiery perimeter with him. So, his plan of going in quietly and picking off who he was able to was working just fine. Both his advantage and disadvantage was how dark it was out here in this automobile cemetery.

           And what he did not account for was two Special Abilities being among them, one that helped him identify the guy as Santiago Perez, a Deviant who was able to produce concussive waves that were lethal within close proximity, and another who he did not recognize with the severely unfortunate Special Ability to create magnetic fields. It didn’t take long for his cover to become a death trap.

           William took to running as far and as fast as he could between rusted cars before attempting to duck out of the radar again, but the gal was flinging cars aside like they were throw cushions. The vehicles were popping off the ground like there were bombs underneath them. And the chaos was still heading in his direction.

           He managed to roll under something that used to be a Jeep long enough to take out three more who were blindly shooting electrical and water attacks around. But the sound of warping metal was nearly on top of him. He shuffle-crawled out from under the Jeep and as he was about to dive under another, his chosen target for cover flipped toward him. He narrowly tucked and rolled as it passed over him. On the other side, he flowed seamlessly up to his feet in time to hit the brakes hard to keep from running into Santiago. He felt the tug at the base of his skull, but was about one second too late. Santiago thumped William’s chest with his palm and dealt a forceful boom.

           He was certain his heart and lungs stopped at the same time. William dropped to his knees and fell on his side all before he was able to draw a molecule of oxygen. And even still his organs acted like a full-system meltdown had left them in reboot mode. Santiago prepared another wave, and William’s mind, as blank as it had been for a second or two, was now flooded with an overwhelming thought of “this isn’t how I thought it would end.”

           A blast of flames owned his sight. The heat briefly stole what breath he was able to take. Santiago screamed in agony, but it was severed by a sharp blade of silence. The flames dissipated. Santiago had joined William on the ground, his head almost backwards on his shoulders. William’s eyes followed up another set of legs.

           Will’s hands were still red hot, casting a soft, orange glow under his chin. “So, you have lost your touch.”

           A stumbling relief overtook him and made his lungs finally open up. William pushed himself up to his feet. The remaining followers were stunned by the sight of them both. By the time someone saw the same scars on both their faces, William and Will shed their shirts in unison in one movement. The heat that exploded from their bodies was enough to incinerate any living thing. Alone, William would not have had enough energy for this fulmination. But with another Level Ten, he was able to watch their faces slip from their skulls, see the remaining windows in discarded cars melt and bend. Entire vehicles slowly shrunk to molten, unrecognizable heaps still long after meat had cooked straight to the bone. He ceased fire first and Will followed suit. The teen inhaled deeply to smell the roast around them and released a contented sigh. William let out a breath of his own before looking at him. “You came. Thank you.”

           Will skipped to about-face, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That’s what she said.”

           William followed, clutching his chest from the constricting pain. “DON’T EVEN,” he barked when Will entertained picking up a piece of someone’s arm to sniff.

           “I think this was Jane.”

           “How can you tell.”

           “You could deep-fry that bitch in chocolate sauce, and she’d still smell like shit.”

           William chuckled as they made their way to the vehicle Will must have brought. Then he cringed, realizing he probably stole his Corvette.

           The twins watched his chest inflate. When he spoke, his voice was ragged and a tad muffled by the bag. “A woman… came into the village. And when people saw her, they—collapsed. Dropped like flies. When they saw her face. And whatever… thing this was, she—gave it to me. I know because… after I put her down…” He spoke as if his throat were constricting itself. “One of the kids saw me. Fell over. Even the… the raccoon-looking thing fell over when it saw me.”

           “She gave it to you?” asked Nikki.

           “Yes,” he breathed, puffing a small dent in the front of the bag.

           Christian perched his elbow on the console. “And you’re sure it’s your face? What if it’s like Cicero and it’s within a specific proximity—”

           “I’m sure.” Before either of the twins could ask another clarifying question, William flinched so hard he rocked the SUV. He panted and put his hands around the bag on his face.

           Nikki looked at her brother. Christian spoke smoothly. “You okay, man? You need your pills?”

           He mumbled.

           “Huh?”

           “I lost them.”

           “… When was your last dose.”

           “… I think… a little over a week ago. They were in my pocket, I was fishing and…”

           The twins locked gazes again.

           William pointed in their general direction. “I know you’re looking at each other, I know what you’re thinking but it’s not a delusion, it’s real, I swear to God.” His voice broke. “The village is fucking gone, I can’t—hallucinate something like that, that’s not how it works.”

           Nikki kept her tone gentle, too. “We believe that’s what happened, William. But don’t you think the part where… she gave it to you and seeing your face kills people now is something that might—”

           “No, I know it.” The bag moved a little, suggesting he was shaking his head inside it. “I can feel it, I know it,” he whispered.

           Christian wasn’t sure he’d ever seen William so distressed. And judging from his sister’s sad features, she hadn’t either. And they couldn’t even see his face. The blonde said, “Are you sure you… didn’t copy her by accident? And maybe this will wear—”

           “I DIDN’T copy her,” he growled. Then he sighed. “I have to go somewhere else… until I know what to do.”

           “You’ve been gone for almost two months; you’re not going anywhere. We’re not leaving you. Even if we have to walk you around with a bag over your head.” Nikki began a Google search on her phone and cursed at it when her limited data was not allowing results to load.

           Christian rubbed his chin, feeling some hairs he’d missed when shaving. “Do you remember a Special Ability like this?” He was mostly talking to William, but Nikki might know just as well.

           “Not to my knowledge,” answered Nikki. “And I know for a fact there has never been a Special Ability recorded that can be… transferred at will.”

           “I didn’t mean to,” William all but sobbed as he pressed his hands over where his ears would be and leaned forward with his head on the console.

           Nikki stroked his head through the canvas bag and spoke quietly. “He needs his medicine if nothing else.”

           “I know,” Christian retrieved his own phone. “I’ll ask Mom if he’s got some at her house still.”

           Nikki slapped her hand down on her brother’s arm. “I’ve got it. Let’s take him to Grae. See if it’s a real thing or not.”

           Christian’s eyes brightened. “Yeah! Tell him we’re swinging by Mom’s first but we’re on our way.” He put the vehicle in drive and pulled back onto the road.

           Unfortunately, Sam had informed them via text that William had no medication left at her house, which prompted her to ask if he was okay when they picked him up. Ignoring her would have been more harmful than not, so Christian lied and said he was all right, just missed some doses and to please call in a refill for him. In the meantime, they elected to go straight to Grae’s apartment.

           The Ghost was immediately on board and opened his door like he was inviting them in for a party after Nikki had guided William up the stairs with his hand on her shoulder.

           Christian closed the door after they entered. “Now, if this is real, man, you’re—”

           “Right, which was smart to come try it on me. I’ll be back tomorrow if it kills me. Get it?” He elbowed the tallest.

           Nikki gripped Grae’s arm and whispered something in his ear quickly before guiding William to sit on the sofa, minding the black cat who did not appear to want to relinquish his entire cushion.

           Christian went to pet the cat. “Another Frankie?”

           “Yep. Franky with a ‘y’. He gets his manhood stolen next week.” Grae sat on the coffee table directly in front of William as Christian whispered an apology to the cat while scratching behind its ears. The Ghost put his hands on his knees. “Do we have to get rid of the bag? I think it’s a good look for you, boyo.”

           “I don’t think we should do this,” William muttered.

           “It’ll be fine.” Nikki rubbed his shoulder and held the top of the canvas bag.

           “Wait—” William snatched the rim near his neck. “Don’t—… you two, look away; turn around.”

           Christian did an about-face toward the bedroom.

           William didn’t let go of the bag. “… Are you both looking away?”

           “Yes,” Nikki said, her head turned and her eyes squeezed shut for good measure. “Let go.”

           The captain paused before hesitantly releasing the bag. Nikki slowly pulled up and lifted it off his head.

           Grae stared as William’s hair fell back down beside his ears. The other’s eyelids were sealed tight. He was shaking. “Open your eyes,” Grae said, unblinking.

           Incrementally and one at a time, William’s eyes came open. They were rather bloodshot, but nothing abnormal. He stared back at the Ghost.

           Grae smiled. “It looks like someone could use a…” He reached forward and pinched a tuft of William’s dark, grown-in beard and tugged in time. “Shave and a haircut~”

           The other exhaled hard, like it should have been a sigh, but he was too discombobulated to make it a real one. “Two bits,” he finished.

           The twins turned to the middle of the living room, both of them looking at William—his face. It was hard to distinguish which was the more overpowering emotion: relief that he was only delusional, or genuine happiness of actually seeing him again after so much time apart.

           Nikki got on the couch on her knees next to him and hugged him tightly around his neck. “You kinda stink a little, too,” she said.

           “Okay, good, because I thought it was me,” Christian put his hands up.

           William finally deflated in an appropriate reaction to the good news and closed his eyes to focus on his breathing. Grae ruffled his mop of dark hair. “Glad to have you back stateside. Let these two take you home and get some rest. And a shower.” He grinned.

           The captain thanked him and soon they left Grae’s apartment and were back on the road, first to the pharmacy. The twins kept the conversation light and between the two of them to let William decompress. Nikki occasionally looked in the backseat to check on him, finding him testing the texture of the canvas bag in his lap. He was likely still trying to work out how much of what “happened” actually happened. Or he was still fighting with some voices. That was all right. But still she said his name. “William.”

           He looked at her.

           “Next time you leave the country, no going by yourself. Okay?”

           He looked out his window. “Yes, Mother.”

           She was sitting next to William’s bed facing him, her head still angled toward her partner but now her glaring eyes fixed on her son.

           He swallowed. “So, Michelle was kind enough to spare me and give you the honor of killing me.”

           She looked back at William.

           Christian rubbed his lips together and solemnly took a seat on the other side of William’s bed. “I just need to say one thing. This… did not go down like—how I was informed that it would. And had I known what the actual plan was, I would have never agreed to do it.”

           His mother said nothing and kept staring at William.

           “He told me… we were supposed to face her together. But we got there, and he went in this house that was cursed for him or something and—”

           “Not. Now.”

           Christian closed his mouth.

           “I don’t want to know,” she said in a monotone voice that sounded as if she’d been asleep. “Maybe never. But definitely not right now.”

           He slowly sat back in his seat, clenching his jaw until he forced his voice out once more. “I’m really, really sorry, Mom.” He knew better than to tack on a “but”.

           There was a brief pause. She kept her arms and legs crossed and her gaze on William. “Your sister in M-I-A. They called me an hour ago.”

           Christian blinked and his stomach did a somersault. “Wh—… Do they know whereabouts on the field she—”

           “No,” she said in a chuckle, making Christian flinch. Her shoulders quaked with a kind of exhausted laughter as she shook her head. “Of course not. Why would they know?” Now she was the one who seemed delirious.

           He had to do something. “… I’ll go look for her. I can find her. I know I can. But—I mean, this is over now. We did it. Scarlet is gone for good. I saw it with my own eyes.” He attempted a grin. “We did it. We—pretty much saved the world!”

           “That’s great.” She turned her eyes on him and sharpened her consonants. “That’s really great. I’m SO glad. That the world is saved at the cost of mine.”

           Christian’s grin faded.

           “For thirty years I’ve watched my family save the world. And for thirty years I’ve sat by the phone waiting for that call again. Because you did it.” She smiled painfully, her eyes brimming with tears. “And I’m supposed to be happy. And proud. Yay! The world is saved! That was my boy! That was my girl, my husband!” She faked celebration. “And I am left with nothing. Every time.”

           He couldn’t bear to look at her.

           “So, forgive me if I’m not feeling very happy or proud. I’m a little bit tired of always being expected to give my family to the greater good.” She stood from her chair and left the room.

           Christian sat rigid for a moment before reaching up to his face with both hands and rubbing deeply. He squeezed some tears from his eyes and sighed. Perhaps now he could look at William, so he tried.

           He was tethered to so many different machines it was difficult to tell which wire went to what. Breathing tube, something that must have been like an EEG, and now he could hear the beeping from the heart monitor. Christian sniffled and reached for William’s hand and wrapped his fingers into his palm. It was cold so Christian pulled some of his blanket to cover his hand. More of all of those thoughts sloshed around in his brain. His mom had every right to be upset and feel the way she felt. For a long time, he’d carried guilt for forcing her to maintain a constant static of anxiety under her skin, and he couldn’t reconcile this guilt with his need to eradicate Scarlet. His mind ping-ponged to William, learning what happened after they were separated at the previous hospital. According to Michelle, his heart stopped. It took six minutes to bring him back, he returned in a seizure, and had been unresponsive since. His mom had been just a few feet away. How long must that have felt?

           A nurse entered and he straightened his posture. She glanced at him before she pressed some buttons on one of the monitors. “I heard you were with him! Took out Scarlet.”

           He entertained a smile. “Did they announce it already?”

           “Sure did. President Mauntell made a national address. I bet you’ll get a medal or something.”

           Christian swallowed. “How is he?”

           She softened her expression. “It’s a little early to tell. But… his vitals are great, brain activity could be better. But in my experience, that’s a good sign so far.”

           He nodded, his stomach still sick. “Does the press know?”

           “I don’t think so. Mauntell didn’t say anything about your conditions.” She looked at him. “Did you make it out all right?”

           He pursed his lips politely. “Better than he did.”

           She gave him another soft look. “We’re gonna take good care of him.”

           The short one put the fish in a basket on the bank and handed the spear to William.

           “Oh God. Okay.” William got in position as the boy had and looked back at him for confirmation that he was doing it correctly. He focused his eyes ahead in the water. Thankfully, it was very clear. So, he was quite able to see any movement within it. William saw a couple fish, but it didn’t feel right, so he let them swim by. But then one came into the perfect position well within his sights. With a couple bobs of his elbow to rein in accuracy, he threw the spear. The shaft floated back up and when he went to get it—the fish was stabbed on the end. “OH! Look!” He held it up for the little boy to see. “I did it!”

           The other smiled and gave him a big thumbs up. In the waning light of day, he saw one of the village residents summoning him. It must be time for his next ritual.

           After having a seat at the fire, he was given a bowl of more rice and okra. Having learned the word for “thank you” by now, he expressed his gratitude. The woman who handed it to him addressed him, gesturing to his bowl. Iwuí sat next to him with his knees up. “She said it is important for you to eat before this.”

           William took a bite and spoke around it. “Am I going to do, like… physical work?”

           Iwuí shook his head. “You are going to drink something to make you have visions. Best to have food in your stomach first.”

           The captain nodded, expecting this would be part of his spiritual journey with the Awá at some point. That was all right. He’d had trips before, none of them particularly pleasant, but certainly not as exhausting as some of the rituals he’d already partaken in since arriving. His first week was spent fasting and meditating per their instructions, with guidance from the shaman and two village elders with regular prayers and blessings. That alone was enough to make him hallucinate. He’d also eaten some remarkably disgusting “items” that could never be construed as food to aid in inner peace and purity. He didn’t tell them he wasn’t able to keep the raw monkey intestines down.

           The fire grew to a lovely, crackling centerpiece for his next test. He removed his shirt and let one of the tribe women paint a symbol on his forehead, and a different one on his breast next to his pawprint. The shaman approached with a bowl in both hands, whispering a prayer over it before handing it to William saying, “Ayahuasca.”

           He repeated the word in a mumble and respectfully took the bowl and watched the shaman speak while listening to Iwuí’s translation. “This is one of your last tests. Tonight, you will commune with the spirits inside and outside of you and hear what they have to say. You will meet your spirit guide and they will bring you a message. Drink the ayahuasca. When you return, report what you have experienced.”

           William glanced between them. “Drink it all?” he confirmed.

           “Yes.”

           He nodded and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment as several of the village residents had gathered to observe, mostly children. He tilted the bowl to his lips and opened his throat, letting it barely touch the back of his tongue (having learned by now it was best to avoid tasting most of their spiritual consumables). The shaman took the bowl back, said another prayer, and went to sit on the other side of the fire.

           When he laid down on the ground, the kids closed in and started climbing on him until their mothers pulled them away. But it didn’t take long for the resident village coati to scamper over with its tail high up in the air to stick its nose in his ear and sniff as if it were trying to smell his brain. The sound became distorted before it stopped. William let his head loll to the side and looked at the animal as it started grooming itself, apparently comforted by his company on the ground. But the fire changed colors and the coati started floating. The voices around him turned to a solid, droning hum. William closed his eyes as gravity shifted under him. He felt a pull in his chest, as if he were being suspended from a tether attached to his sternum. He’d never forgotten how this felt, but it was nice to know he didn’t have to feel guilty afterward this time.

           Right off the bat it was different from any trip he’d ever had. It was still surreal, and he wasn’t totally lucid, but there was an absence of chaos or eeriness that was a typical theme for his drug-induced journeys. No, there was nothing that immediately struck him as malicious, or foreboding for that matter.

           He was in a grassy field, a clearing before a forest. While it was overcast, the sun was quite bright behind the clouds. The tall grass whispered in the breeze and brushed against his knees. Positioned perfectly centered within his sight at the tree line was a white wolf. William was never really sure of the exact species of an animal, but this time was unmistakable. And it was staring at him, sitting on its haunches as if it had been occupying the spot it was in without falter waiting for his arrival. William stared back at it until it stood, turned, and sauntered between the trees.

           Advancing felt more like how he thought it should. While his environment was beautiful, it was so far void of fantasy. But moving his feet was quintessential dreamland; sluggish, slow motion, like his legs weighed fifty pounds. Along the unusually lengthy trek to the trees, the clouds moved over his head at such a fast pace, he was certain there was some sort of time delay attached to him. He’d never seen clouds move like this, changing their depth in value. This may have been the first unsettling note he’d caught, but still very docile.

           In the trees, the wolf had stopped and looked over its shoulder patiently. Only when it continued did the trees in every direction start shuddering. Leaves rained down as their trunks started bowing—away from him. This was strange. They all bent at such an angle they all should have snapped. William managed to keep the wolf in his sight until it stopped and turned to face him at another clearing, sitting on the surface of a sparkling pool of crystal clear water, much like he’d seen Amber do. Since this much was not foreign to him, he stepped into the water, finding his sluggishness had lifted and the little pond was delightfully cool on his bare feet. He waded up to his waist, planting his feet in the slightly shifting mud between his toes directly in front of the wolf.

           It was beautiful, the epitome of regal. Its outlined, champagne-colored eyes were calmly focused on him. All at once, flowers on the bank budded and bloomed, exploding into life all around him. William turned to watch a sea of emerald grass shift to a nearly solid confetti of pinks, yellows, and blues. He’d always appreciated simplistic elegance of flowers before (even if they did make him break out in hives), but this was otherworldly. He was in awe.

           A high-pitched chatter brought his attention forward again. A bird was sitting on top of the wolf’s head, using every breath in its little lungs to holler. The wolf didn’t flinch when the bird fluttered to the bank, fanned out its tail, and dragged one of its wings along the ground as it screamed.

           William furrowed his brow at it as it limped around. Its cries became louder than what should be possible, the frequency ringing in his ears enough to make him cover them.

           The bottom of the pond disappeared. William plummeted underwater with a splash.

           He whipped his head around and he was facing the coati again. It had curled up next to him and apparently fallen asleep. He noticed the fire had died significantly when he sat up. The village elders, the shaman, and Iwuí were still seated by it, looking to him eagerly when they saw him stir. “William? Is everything normal again?” he said.

           His chest was still heaving from his last shock. “I think so.”

           Iwuí smiled and conveyed his confirmation to the others, and they all leaned forward in interest. “What animal did you see?”

           William ran his fingers back through his dark layers. “A wolf. A white wolf.”

           That was an English word they all apparently knew, because all four of them beamed back at him. The elders even stood and came forward to give him a congratulatory series of pats on the head and shoulder. They proceeded to engage in a brief discussion with each other, that sounded much like them agreeing that this was the outcome they had expected.

           “Wolf is very good sign. Very good,” he nodded with a grin. “Means you are great protector. Great leader.” He paused when the shaman said something. “And white means you are a, uh… a savior. A hero.”

           William rubbed the back of his neck as one of the elders kept ruffling his mop of hair. “That’s good news.” To be honest, he wasn’t surprised. And this was not due to a lack of modesty; Amber had been telling him such things for quite some time now. It was nice to have it confirmed through another spiritual resource though.

           “You followed it, yes?”

           “Yeah. It stopped at a… super clear little body of water. And then all these flowers just started blooming out of nowhere.”

           Iwuí relayed his experience to the shaman and elders, who all continued nodding in satisfaction and pride.

           “But there was this bird that was… really loud and then I fell through the water—”

           “What?” Iwuí blinked.

           “I fell through the water. Like I was standing on the bottom of the pond and—”

           “You saw another animal?” Iwuí quickly waved at the elders and shaman, apparently repeating this in their language.

           William glanced between them. Their smiles were gone. “Yeah. There was a bird.”

           “What kind of bird?”

           He blinked. “I—I don’t know. I don’t… really know birds. It was small… brown on its back and white on its front? A couple black rings? Its wing was broken. And it was really loud.”

           Iwuí translated. The others went silent and looked at each other for a moment before their questions began floating around. The discussion became rather vehement as the shaman began shaking his head. So much for the good news. They spoke for several minutes before Iwuí turned back to him and sat closer. “You are only supposed to see one animal. You should not have seen two.”

           His mouth went crooked. “That’s bad, then.”

           Iwuí took a breath. God. “The bird you saw. It… has not been seen in these visions by anyone for many, many years. This bird pretends to have injury to lead danger away from eggs. It represents sacrifice.”

           William stared.

           Iwuí searched for the right words. “Self… Self-sacrifice.”

           His eyes drifted a little. “Oh.”

           “We… will discuss more. And you still have more tests. The spirits may have more to say on this matter. It may not mean… that you will die.”

           He pursed his lips and nodded. “I understand. Thank you, Iwuí.” He gave him a hardy pat on his shoulder. Iwuí gave him a pat back, but it was less in gratitude and more in pity. He stood, a little wobbly, and left the elders and shaman to their discussion over the results of his test as he entered his appointed hut and sat with his knees up in deliberation. The coati returned back to his flank to scratch itself. He absently petted its back and played with its long tail, staring into space. Again, he wasn’t surprised, not really.

           William had never put much weight in fate and destiny, in spite of all evidence he’d received thus far. He remembered when Maxine used to hold his face in her hands and tell him that he was meant for something bigger than he could imagine. While he didn’t conduct his life this way, he wanted it to be true.

           When they let go, William went about his typical routine of making a drink for them both. “How’s Michelle?”

           “Doing great. We think she’s over the morning sickness finally. Which is a huge relief.” He took his shoes off.

           “For everyone,” William mumbled as he poured a small batch bourbon in two glasses and handed one to Christian.

           The blonde chuckled his agreement and took his first sip and followed it with a tight grimace and a hiss through his teeth.

           “Aw, come on. That’s smooth.”

           “To you,” he said, his throat taut. He carried his glass down the hall to William’s music room. “Hey, I am thinking about picking up the guitar again.”

           The captain followed him. “Yeah?”

           “Yeah.” He entered and had a look at the instruments hanging on the wall near the bass on its stand beside the piano. “Spending so much more time at home now that I’m not working, just going to school online and soon a stay-at-home dad, Michelle thinks I should pick up a hobby again. That it will be good for me.”

           William nodded, drink in hand. “She’s right. You still have that Fender?”

           “Yep. Guess I’ll dust it off. Maybe you still got some old music with the training wheels on it?” He picked up some paper from his piano.

           The older put his glass down on the end table nearby. “Uh—no, I don’t have any of the beginner stuff any—”

           “What’s this?” Christian squinted at the sheet music.

           “Nothing, it’s—”

           “‘Words Are Never Enough by William Milord’?” He met his eyes. “Well, what do we have here?”

           “Okay, that’s—” He reached for the paper.

           Christian pulled it away with a grin.

           “Christian.”

           “You’re writing a song?”

           William lunged to snatch it away, but the blonde shot his arm straight up, to a height William could never hope to reach. He cursed and went back to his glass and took a hefty draught. “I was going to talk to you about it when it was ready, but it’s not done yet.” His words ran sharp over his teeth.

           Christian stared, keeping his eyebrows raised.

           William scratched the back of his head. “It’s for your mom. Our anniversary. I… was hoping when I got it done that you would sing it.”

           He pulled the papers to his chest. “You wrote a song for Mom, and you want me to sing it?”

           “Writing. And yes. Please.”

           He felt a warmth spread through his chest as he smiled. Christian was always so used to William requesting Nikki’s help in the field that he often felt he had nothing of value to offer, and at times was quite jealous of his sister. Knowing that he was William’s first pick for something as monumental as this filled him with pride. “I’d be honored, man.”

           “Thank you.” His shoulders dropped with a silent breath of relief.

           “You’re writing the lyrics and the music? Is it for the piano?” He sat down on the bench with the papers in both hands.

           “Yeah. The lyrics are… pretty much done. Still working on the music for them and the piano.”

           His eyes sparkled. “Can I read what you have?”

           William briefly shrugged and took a seat in the chair. “I guess.”

           Christian’s eyes jumped to the page like starting a race, eagerly pouring over the words. It didn’t take long, however, for his expression to soften. In places he felt a twinge that pulled his eyebrows together. His lips tightened as he read the chorus once more, the end of the song. He looked up. “My God.”

           William cocked an eyebrow, as if he didn’t know what this statement was supposed to mean.

           “This… is really really good, man. I—” He dragged a hand over his mouth. “I’m actually getting kind of emotional.” He felt his eyes burning so he took a deep breath to offset it.

           William blinked, seemingly in surprise. “Thank you. I meant it.”

           “I can tell.” He swallowed and laid the papers down. “But… now that I’ve read it, I don’t think I can sing it.”

           He blinked again. “Why not?”

           “You godda sing that.”

           The captain looked at him incredulously. “What? No, I can’t sing. You know that—”

           “I know that you’re not a singer, but I’m telling you, Boss, those words godda come from your lips.” He prodded the papers.

           William sat forward. “No. It’s godda be good. And it won’t be good if I sing it, it needs—a good singer!”

           “Listen, it will be good as long as you’re singing it. You’re not gonna perform this at the Epiphany for an audience, you’re performing it for the one person in the world who loves you more than anyone else. Your soulmate. It’s not going to matter to her that you’re not Ed Sheeran—”

           “It matters to me.”

           Now the blonde leaned forward. “Who is this for again?”

           William sighed and sat back, his fingers making a sandpapery sound on his scruffy jaw.

           “I’m telling you, man. She’ll love it if I sing it, because you wrote it. But it’ll melt her heart if she hears it in your voice.” When he didn’t see the conflict ease in his expression, he made a counteroffer. “What if I help you? I’m not a singing coach by any stretch of the imagination, but what if I promise to help you sing better than you can now between now and your anniversary?”

           He huffed. “Then you have to hear me sing, too.”

           “Yeah, that’s what that means.” The blonde raised his hand. “I swear on my life I will NOT make fun of you.”

           William picked up his glass and mumbled into it. “Gonna have to be a lot fuckin’ better.”

           “Is that a yes?”

           “Fine. Yes.”

           Christian did a short victory dance. “She’s gonna love it, man. What a great gift. The best gift.”

           After downing the rest of his bourbon, William said, “You know, most of those words would sound… really appropriate coming from you, too. In a different way.”

           The blonde tilted his head at him. “I would never let your anniversary with Mom be about me. And I’ve already had my… ‘come to Jesus’ with her. Besides,” he took a breath. “I’m pretty over being the prodigal son. It’s been long enough now, my life is back on track, I’m married, I’ve got a baby on the way. I’m ready to just pretend it didn’t happen.”

           William nodded solemnly, staring down into his glass. “That’s fair.”

           He watched him and lowered his voice before he spoke again. “Did you and I ever have our ‘come to Jesus’?”

           His fingertips lightly tapped his container, still looking downward. “We went to thank Amber. Talked in the truck.”

           Christian watched his step now, well aware he was entering touchy territory. It always was to encourage William to talk, specifically about his feelings. “Yeah. And that was great. I needed that. But what do you need?” When he didn’t say anything, he went on. “I got to tell you how I felt. Mom got to tell me how she felt. Even Nik did. But you never told me how you felt.”

           The younger glimpsed that pang of protest that creased William’s brow as he turned his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not about how I felt.”

           “Boss, I wasn’t the only one traumatized by my running away to Scarlet. I’d be a jackass to think otherwise. It’s about everyone.”

           William inhaled, expanding his chest, looking around the room.

           Christian leaned his elbows on his knees. “It’s been a year. I’m gonna have to ask you to please tell me what your deal with Amber consisted of to get me back. If you won’t tell me anything else.”

           His lips were tight. He only left enough room to part them for words that were proportionally quiet. “I thought you wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen.”

           “I do, for me. Because I’m—healed now, meaning I’m ready to hear what you went through without it making me lose my mind.” He took a breath. “It’s not fair to expect you to just move on too, as if it didn’t have any effect—”

           “I saw your whole life,” he interrupted. “I lived your whole life. Every bad thing that ever happened, every negative thought you ever had, I lived it like I was you.”

           Christian closed his mouth and listened.

           “I know—exactly what you went through and how you felt when you were in school, I know things that Scarlet made you see and hear, and I know that you had recent dreams and visions about me killing your dad, and you, and your mom and Nikki, how you’re afraid of that happening and you try not to think about it and—” He suddenly stood up with his glass and left the room.

           Christian stayed put until he heard William in the cabinet in the kitchen again. He quietly joined him on the other side of the counter, leaning on its surface as he watched William fill his glass and take two harsh gulps. He grimaced the way Christian had from one sip. “I don’t know what to say. I’m really sorry you saw all of that.” He spoke in just above a whisper. “Those dreams, those hallucinations didn’t mean anything, man. They’re just intrusive thoughts.”

           “Except you still have them,” he growled past the burn from a third draught.

           He stared. “… You—can still see—”

           “Nope. That was a test.” His lip pulled out in a smirk, and he emitted a wheezing laugh as Christian clenched his jaw. William shook his head and lowered his voice again. “I don’t blame you. It’s okay.” He finished his second glass.

           The blonde blinked softly, unable to fight off the burn behind his eyes this time. “You saw all that and you still fought to bring me home?”

           He poured a third. “I’m glad you’re back.” William met his eyes. “And I’d do it again.”

           Mallory trotted to follow him and stepped in the plain, neat guest bedroom with the pale blue color scheme.

           He set her bag on the bed. “Please make yourself completely at home.” William gestured around the room. “Everything. Dresser, closet, bathroom. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to find you your own place, so don’t treat it like a hotel. Don’t live out of your bag. Spread out, get comfy.”

           She turned to face him. “William, I can’t thank you enough for doing this. But this time I have to ask and corner you a little bit; are you sure you’re okay with this?”

           “Yes. Because, A, it’s… important to me that you remember what living in a home feels like, and you weren’t going to get that living in another hospital and spending your nights in a sleep observatory room. And B, if you’re not going to be on base, I won’t feel comfortable with you being anywhere else. Now, if you would feel more comfortable if you weren’t the only female here, I’m sure Sam would be more than happy to spend some nights here—”

           “You would rather me stay with you than… stay with Odette or Sam?”

           “Correct. Because the second safest place for you to be is with me,” he said, checking to make sure the television was plugged in for her. But he made eye contact again quickly. “As—long as you’re comfortable with it.”

           She smiled. “I don’t think there is anywhere I would feel safer. Thank you.”

           He gave a brief smile in return. “I’m gonna go shopping tomorrow. Get some more food. Snacks. Any requests?”

           Her eyes grew round. “Can… can I have soda?”

           He chuckled; he hadn’t expected her to actually tell him anything she wanted. “Absolutely. Soda. What kind?”

           “The—caffeinated kind.” She rubbed her hands together.

           “All right you got it. In the meantime, come with me.” He led the way back downstairs.

           “What’s up?”

           William opened his cabinets. “I have… a wonderful happy-discharge-day celebration for you.”

           She softly gasped when he set out a strawberry schnapps. “Oh. My God.”

           He held up a finger then reached into his freezer and set out a small carton of vanilla ice cream.

           “Dude, that’s a great idea.”

           He held up his finger again, reaching into his fridge.

           “It gets better?”

           William set a brick of dark chocolate that had been shaved off the top.

           She stared at it, then at him with a stoic expression. “Please marry me.”

           He laughed and began preparing her treat.

           Mallory walked around his apartment with her bowl of “spicy ice cream”, saving the chocolate shavings in proportioned paired bites. She shook her head in awe in his music room. “That’s such a beautiful guitar. Is it a bass?” When he nodded with his arms crossed, admiring it too, she said, “Do you play often?”

           “No, not often. But sometimes.”

           “And the piano too?”

           He nodded again.

           She turned to him. “Do you have any photos? Maybe even on your phone?”

           “Sure. I have some in frames in my office.” He led her to the next door down the short hallway and stood near his desk where there were about five different photos. William watched her admire them, predicting which one she would ask about and he was right.

           Mallory picked up the frame on the little shelf. “Is this a drake hound?”

           “Yeah. That’s Victor.” He gave a pursed-lipped smile.

           She glanced at him and thumbed over the tuft of fur taped to the top of the frame. “He’s so handsome. I’ve always wanted to see a drake hound. I saw one at a privately-owned zoo when I was a kid, but never since.” She looked at him with a grin. “Was he a good boy?”

           “The best.”

           Her expression softened. “You must miss him a lot.”

           William took a short breath. “Terribly.” He felt his throat tighten up, so he gestured to another picture. “Nikki took that.”

           Mallory had a look. “It’s perfect. She’s a great photographer.”

           They spent the evening after dinner conversing in the living room. William had made her another drink and once she had announced that the beverage had made her delightfully sleepy, she decided to take her leave and go to bed. Before they bid each other goodnight and she went upstairs, Mallory made it a point to thank William for his hospitality and accommodations once more. Then he turned out the lights and entered his office and closed the door to look at some of the things he had missed for work.

           He’d only planned to spend an hour or so checking his email, but it turned into him following up on many different projects, conversations, and schedules and he quite easily lost track of time. It wasn’t until his desk lamp flickered that he pulled himself out of his computer screen and checked the time. 3:03 AM.

           His monitor’s display glitched until it stabilized on what appeared to be a live feed of his living room—except it wasn’t really. There were trees.

           “Mallory,” he breathed as he stood up from his computer chair and carefully exited his office, stepping into a fever dream hybrid of a forest and his apartment. All his furniture was perfectly in place, but white poplars framed his coffee table and there were a few leaves on his sofa and armchair. William inhaled that sickly sweet aroma as he crunched forward across the foliage, further into surrealism. “Mallory?” he called, scanning the familiar-yet-unfamiliar surroundings for the wendigo’s telltale ribcage-like antlers.

           He froze when he spotted movement in the opposite, short hallway that led to his bedroom. A towering figure was approaching out of the darkness. He wasn’t afraid, but he was cautious, so he stood his ground. The sight, however, took his breath away.

           It wasn’t the wendigo. It was Victor. He should have known.

           William held his breath as he watched the great beast lumber forward before sitting on his haunches. He panted happily and his wagging tail rustled the leaves that replaced the carpet. His skin practically vibrated. Every emotion in him fought with every ounce of rationale he possessed. Of course it wasn’t real, he knew it wasn’t. But did it matter?

           He found himself moving toward him anyway. His voice slipped out of his lips involuntarily. “Hey, buddy.”

           Victor’s golden orbs grew round and his pupils dilated at the sight of his human. His whole furry body began to shake with excitement, and he craned his neck forward and once William’s face was within reach, the dog lapped him up with huge, happy kisses. My God, he could even smell his breath. William put his arms around his neck and buried his head into his thick, black mane. His warmth, the fibrous texture of his fur… a sigh escaped him and sank into his companion’s coat. No more words, just a rhythmic strokes, running his fingers through Victor’s hair until he was overcome by it and grabbed fistfuls, inhaling his scent.

           “I miss you, boy.”

           His weight gave forward. Victor’s body dissipated beneath William’s hug, forcing him to catch himself. Floating down to the leaves was a mound of black hair, landing with the softest of rustles. He stared at it. Some had lighted on his bare foot.

           A quiet huff behind him made him look over his shoulder. The wendigo was standing just at the threshold of the hallway beside the stairs. Its thin arms were hugging itself and it bowed its skull-helmeted head and took a shameful step backward, further into the dark.

           “I think part of the deal Odette is cutting is that I have to have weekly visits with a psychologist and a talk therapist and they, like… have a committee where they discuss my care every month or so.” He scratched his scruffy jaw.

           She nodded. “That sounds like a great plan. Because if I’m being honest? I don’t think you belong here.”

           William looked at the ceiling. “Thank you.”

           “I think what happened was a very unfortunate hallucination during a very unfortunate time due to a lot of stress on you. And you were sent here due to military levels of precaution. But you appear to be coping as well as anyone with your level of trauma on the medication you take. All sick people have bad days. And I think you had a really bad day.”

           “My God.” He felt sincerely emotional and rubbed his face. What a relief. “Thank you so much.”

           “That said, I agree that you need intensive care. But I think what Odette is working out for you with less work hours and more therapy time is a better personal plan for you. And I was wondering if there was a way I could continue to be involved in your care. If you’re comfortable with that.”

           He blinked. “Yeah, absolutely.”

           She smiled again. “You sure?”

           “Yeah, definitely. I’ll mention it to Odette. Maybe they could get you on the committee, y’know. Can I ask why?” He huffed. “Usually, doctors can’t wait to scrape me off on someone else.”

           Olive appeared saddened by his comment. “I find you interesting, I think you’re a good person, I respect you, and I think I can help you.”

           William stared like he was waiting for the punchline. “You’re serious.”

           “Of course.”

           He glanced her up and down before putting both feet softly on the floor. “Thank you. That’s… that’s really nice.”

           She straightened her posture again. “I’m also curious about what Mallory’s situation will be. Will she be receiving intensive care like you?”

           He nodded. “Yeah. We’re working on those details, but… the main thing is that she gets somewhere safe as soon as possible. The fixation Scarlet has on her is…” His lips went crooked. “Concerning.”

           Olive nodded, too. “I totally agree. But, having been her therapist for a while now, I would be remiss to not mention that I am concerned about her initial adjustment to any life outside of a hospital.”

           He blinked again. “What concerns do you have.”

           She winced. “I’m entering a gray area with confidentiality.”

           William waved a hand. “Right. Sorry.”

           “She’s just… been inpatient for so long. Will I be able to see her after she leaves, too?”

           He replied without even considering what it would take. “Yes. I’ll make sure that you’re still involved in her care and… maybe you can give an assessment to those who are overseeing her protection and care. Let me just…” He pulled a notepad toward him and began taking notes. “And give you an opportunity to… voice your concerns.”

           “I really appreciate that, William. You and Odette are the dream team.”

           He raised his eyebrows with a nod. “More than you know.”

           She put her fist against her chin. “Care to chat about you and Odette?”

           He took a deep breath with a smirk.

             William found her standing beside the sofa in the recreation room in front of the television, holding a pillow shaped like an owl to her chest. She was watching a news story regarding Scarlet’s recent exploits. It was the first time he’d seen her in regular clothes. She was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting, striped hoodie T-shirt. Brian mumbled something where he was wadded up on the couch and Mallory smiled at him. William approached and she turned to him, beaming. “You ready?”

           Her shoulders came up close to her jaws. “I’m kinda nervous.”

           “That’s okay.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Everyone’s gonna love you.”

           The door to the foyer opened and Odette stepped in. She wasn’t in uniform, but she was professionally dressed in a silk, pale pink blouse and gray slacks. She met them with an excited smile. “Hey, you two! Ready to hit the road?”

           “Definitely,” Mallory said. She thanked Odette when she reached for her bag and handed it over. “Just sixty seconds to say goodbye?”

           “Of course, milaya! Take your time.”

           She thanked her again and turned to the group lingering in the recreation room, who had apparently been awaiting her departure and closed in on her, each taking their turn with a hug.

           William stood next to his redheaded friend and couldn’t help but watch. Some of them were crying, squeezing the breath out of Mallory.

           “They really love her here,” Odette said.

           “She takes care of everyone.” He pointedly looked at Odette. “I mean she really looks out for them. Better than most of the staff.” He winced at hearing one of the other patients audibly weeping. Mallory wasn’t crying, but she comfortingly rubbed the patient’s back as they hugged. “They’ll miss her. I would.”

           Mallory came back to William and Odette. “Okay, I’m ready,” she breathed with a hint of anxiety.

           Odette led the way to the foyer where Doctor Blakely was waiting with her hands behind her back. The three of them paused when the doctor smiled. “I wish you both the best,” she said, extending a hand to Mallory. “Take care.” She shook Mallory’s hand and then William’s. The released patients thanked her and stepped out the final set of doors.

           Odette looked at William. “Mne ona ne nravitsya.”

           He chuckled. Mallory stopped when a red-coated soldier opened the door of the miniature limousine. She thanked them sincerely and took a seat in the back. William and Odette climbed in after her. “How cool is it that we got discharged on the same day?” Mallory grinned.

           “You have her to thank for that.” William nodded to Odette. “The mastermind making our lives better.”

           “Hardly.” Odette reached for a tiny fridge pocket in the back with them and retrieved some water bottles. “Just pays to know the system!”

           When they arrived at their destination, Mallory’s eyes were out the window the entire way from the gate of base headquarters to the main building. William smirked when she rolled the window down and stuck her head out to see the tops of some of the structures. She watched the formation in the opposite clearing with fascination. After they exited their ride and passed the last security checkpoint inside the main building, Mallory started to go rigid, hugging her owl pillow.

           William walked close next to her, nodding in acknowledgement to the people who saluted him as he passed. “Relax,” he said softly.

           “Everyone’s in uniform,” she said.

           “Yeah, because they’re in the military. You’re not,” he chuckled.

           “I still feel underdressed.”

           “Then we both are.” He took her owl pillow from her and hugged it to his belly, eliciting a giggle from her.

           They traveled to the depths of the building and past a certain point, no one was wearing red coats anymore. Instead, they were wearing white lab coats. Mallory automatically smiled when they were eagerly met by three doctors, who first greeted William and Odette before shaking Mallory’s hand. The man introduced himself and the two women as his colleagues who were in charge of the study of Special Abilities. “We understand that you have quite the unique power, Mallory.” He was grinning from ear to ear. William found it amusing how excited they became—not that it was unwarranted.

           “So I’ve been told,” she replied. William expected her to sound shy, but she didn’t have a sheepish note at all. She was actually putting out professional vibes. Even her handshake looked enthusiastic.

           “Well, that’s spectacular and we’re certainly eager to see how we might be able to help you identify some controlling points in your experiences with the wendigo.”

           “I’m certainly looking forward to seeing how I can aid the cause.”

           William puffed his chest out a little at that.

           “Great! All right, allow us to give you the tour.” The three doctors guided Mallory, William, and Odette through halls that very much resembled a regular medical hospital. They were shown examination rooms, exercise rooms, and simulation rooms. Mallory nodded with interest and made acknowledging comments here and there. But when Odette elbowed William and subtly nodded at Mallory’s waist, he saw how Mallory had successfully picked off three ends of her fingernails just in the time of the tour. He even caught her discreetly putting one in her pocket instead of dropping it on the floor so as to not leave a trail of her panic.

           The last room they stepped into William recognized as a sleep observatory, meaning it was a real bed with a nice duvet with a homey nightstand, but it was sitting in the middle of a stark white room with a giant pane of glass on one wall. When the man introduced this as “her room,” William spoke up. “Pardon? Her room?”

           “Yes.”

           He blinked. “You don’t mean this is…” He looked at Odette. “I thought we were able to swing the apartment wing for her on the…” He pointed East.

           “I… thought so too—Mallory’s not ready for sleep studies right now; who told you this was where she would be staying?”

           The doctors looked embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was given that information by Colonel Marshall.”

           “It’s all right, we’re not blaming you. But that was not the arrangement Colonel Marshall was informed of.” Odette turned to William. “Ona ne mozhet ostavat’sya zdes’. Ye nuzhno chto-to bol’she pokhozheye na dom.”

           “Oh—no, this is fine!” Mallory said. “It’s a lovely bed! It looks so cozy!”

           “I’m just making sure! You looked a little wobbly—”

           “I’m not wobbly.”

           “All right!” she hissed.

           Ed unlocked the door ahead of William and Maxine nearly shoved past her husband to scurry to the hall closet. “Now, you go ahead and get comfy on the couch.”

           The young man rubbed his shoulder. “No, thanks, I think I’ll just go to my room and chill for a bit—”

           “NO, sit down, lay down on the couch. Here.” Maxine hurried to position a pillow against the arm and another about where his knees would be.

           William felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Ed winking at him and giving him a pat as he took off his shoes. The younger turned back to Maxine. “Okay. Thanks.” He took a seat and leaned back per her instructions.

           She fluffed the pillow under his knees. “How’s that? Not too high?”

           “It’s perfect, thank you.” He took his shoes off when he realized he forgot, finding it odd that she didn’t bark at him for it.

           “Can I get you anything? Glass of milk?”

           He blinked. “Yeah, that’d be great, please.”

           She poured him a tall glass and brought it to him. “I’m gonna make you a shepherd’s pie.” Maxine patted his bicep twice.

           William could almost feel his pupils dilating. “You… You don’t have to do that.”

           “I’ve got ground lamb that needs to be eaten and it’s your favorite, isn’t it?” She began setting out ingredients.

           He sheepishly picked at the cotton ball that had been stuffed inside his left ear. “Yeah…”

           “That’s what I thought.” She turned a knob on the stove to heat an eye.

           Ed sat down in the armchair adjacent him and turned on the television. Just about the time he started rubbing the lump on his head, Maxine brought him an icepack to hold against it. He smiled at his wife and thanked her as he put up the footrest with a contented sigh. “How ya feelin’, son?”

           The truth was his burst eardrum hurt quite a lot. He had a full headache in addition to a strange sensation of pins and needles when any part of his body touched anything at all. “Well. My tongue stopped itching, so that’s a good sign, I guess.”

           “You got lit up like a Christmas tree!” Ed teased, “I bet ya looked like a Looney Tune, skeleton flashin’ and everything, haha!”

           “Did Bugs Bunny get a hole blown in his foot?” William pulled his ankle up and removed his sock to scratch the bandage taped to his sole.

           “No, and Bugs Bunny certainly never jumped in front of anyone to save their life by taking millions of volts of electricity,” Maxine added as she approached. “Here. They said we could take the bandage off when we got home.”

           William responded by sitting up and hunching over, still picking at the tape on the bottom of his foot that was itching between his toes. Maxine pulled his shirt up over his head and carefully peeled the bandage away, yet another uncharacteristic moment. He heard her sigh. “What,” he said.

           “I didn’t know… it would spread like that. Ed, look.”

           When Ed made a noise of surprise, William attempted to look over his shoulder to see what the spectacle was. Maxine snapped a picture with her phone and handed it to him. He took it and squinted at the photo. It was the oddest mark he’d ever seen on a person’s body before, on the Internet or anywhere else. And it was right behind him.

           Of course there was the terrible hole in his shoulder where the lightning struck, blackened and red on the edges from an awful, instantaneous burn. But that wasn’t the weird part. It was the lines that branched out from it. They were mostly red, but blue and green in places, like a watercolor tree root system. Some of these lines had strange, feathery textures. While staring at the picture, he reached a hand over his shoulder to see if he might feel one, but he couldn’t really tell.

           Maxine pulled his shirt back down. “Does it hurt?”

           “It’s a little sore I guess.” He handed her phone back and reached for his glass of milk for another sip. After he leaned back again, he must have dozed off, because the next thing he remembered was opening his eyes to the television where Ed must have turned on The Twilight Zone. It was the episode about a mean stepfather and a vindictive doll. Now he definitely felt worse though. His muscles all throbbed as if he’d pulled a semi-truck along behind him. It was enough to make him wince, but he still lifted his head at the aroma coming from the kitchen. Shepherd’s pie.

           “I was wondering when you’d wake up,” said Maxine near the stove. She was getting down a bowl from the cabinet. “Just in time to have some while it’s still hot.”

           He sat up and she brought him the bowl on a tray. It looked wonderful, the way the mashed potatoes had gained a golden, crispy layer on top. Just before he stuck his utensil in to pick a bite, she brought him his glass of milk.

           “I put it back in the fridge for you so it would be cold.”

           He froze. A sudden and overwhelming feeling of anxiety caused him to set his fork down and lean back.

           “You had a nice little cat nap. Do you feel better?”

           William saw visions when he blinked, pictures of the past in the dark intervals. Scarlet scooting his chair up to a table filled with sweets. He bit into an apple slice dipped in caramel when she told him his next task. He opened his eyes and it was his serving of shepherd’s pie.

           “What’s wrong?”

           He could feel his heart beating in his chest, and it seemed to stab his injured eardrum. William swallowed. “Um… Sorry, I’m not hungry right now. Can I have some later?”

           She didn’t answer right away. “Sure,” she said gently, again, kind of out of her nature. He felt a tremor take hold of him. Maxine took his bowl back to the kitchen before returning to sit near him on the sofa. “Are you sick to your stomach?”

           He shook his head. “No, just not hungry. Sorry.” He should probably say something about how he was looking forward to it, but at the moment he was gripped by impressions of impending doom. When he glimpsed a white-garbed figure passing from the guest bathroom up the stairs, he took to rubbing his eyes roughly.

           The old woman took a breath. “I know I should probably be… coddling like this more than I am.” She turned her head, keeping her posture straight. “Ed always said I wasn’t a nurturer. And I suppose I’m not, but… there’s times it calls for it. And I think that nearly getting yourself killed to protect me and Ed would be cause for some extra babying.” She looked back at him. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

           He stared ahead. Somewhere he could feel crimson eyes on him and he anticipated he might feel a thump at the base of his skull soon. His skin practically vibrated with the sensation. “I’m not really used to it, I guess. At least not without it coming before something bad,” he chuckled. William tilted his head. “Or after.”

           She watched him. Most people might have inquired as to what he meant, but she said, “She was nice to you to manipulate you.”

           It was conflicting. Yeah, that had to be the truth. But part of him still believed that she was nice to him because she cared about him. At least sometimes. “Or she felt guilty about something she’d done.”

           “Did she do that a lot?”

           He shook his head slowly this time, almost like he was in a trance. “No. Just made it really confusing when she did.”

           Maxine kept her hands in her lap. “Well, I want you to know that my only motive is to show you how much I appreciate you.”

           He lightly pursed his lips. “I know. Thank you.”

           “And let you know how proud of you I am.”

           William nodded.

           “For everything.” Her voice broke.

           He looked at her, finding her fighting tears. “Oh,” He patted her arm and chuckled. “It’s okay, Maxine.”

           She threw her arms around him and nearly plowed him down with her mighty hug. The old woman put her mouth in his shirt. “You’re a good boy!” she cried. “I don’t care what all you ever did, you’re a good boy! And don’t you ever let anyone tell you different!”

           He hesitantly held her, shocked by such a sudden and raucous display of emotion from someone he wasn’t entirely sure was capable of it. William patted her back. “It’s okay, Maxine.” When he thought she might let go, she didn’t. So, he held her until she did.

           She quickly dried her eyes as if she were embarrassed, and stood up. “Can I get you anything?”

           “No, I’m good.” When she started to walk away, he touched her wrist. “Maxine.”

           She turned back to him without making eye contact.

           “I’m really lucky and grateful… to have you and Ed taking care of me. And I appreciate you.”

           Her chin dimpled up as she gave a stiff nod and left the room.

           Nikki crossed her arms—not really in a haughty way, but in a protective way. “I don’t tell her unless I feel like she needs to know.”

           He wanted to snap, something to the effect of how Sam didn’t need to know the last thing she told her. But instead, he rubbed his lips together. “Maybe… from now on, you could tell me what you want to tell her and… we could talk about it. And if you really think she needs to know, maybe I should be the one to tell her.”

           Nikki smirked. “That’s pass interference.”

           He huffed with a short grin of his own. “Maybe not.” William inhaled through his pipe. The smoke came out in his words. “But I would have disagreed this past time; she didn’t need to know all of what you said.”

           She moved to sit next to him on the swing. “She needed to know what no one else would have learned had I not watched it happen. She needed to know that you didn’t say stop.”

           “But you told her he was holding me by my hair—”

           “She needed to understand why it was so incredible. You were never going to tell anyone; not because you don’t want anyone to know, but because you don’t think it’s important, but it is. It’s THE most important thing that happened.”

           William kept his voice steady. “I think there’s a fine line here. Between… things she needs to know and things that will make her sick to know.” He stroked the side of the hand-carved pipe, testing for imperfections as he often did. “She’s not like you and me. I don’t even think Christian feels things on the level that she does. Odette says your mom is super empathetic, particularly toward the people she cares most about. She gets really upset about… the more unsavory chunks of my history. News that would ruin most people’s afternoon ruins, like, the next four months for her. It affects her health. And that’s why I think we need to be really critical and picky about the things she learns.”

           Nikki kept her arms crossed across her middle.

           He lowered his voice a bit further. “I have to try and protect her from some of it at least. And that sounds honorable, but there’s another part, the very real part that she will dump me if I stress her out too much. And I’d like to avoid that, too.”

           She shook her head. “She wouldn’t do that.”

           “She should.” William had another puff.

           Nikki looked at him. “You’re better for her than you think you are.”

           He waited a moment before changing the subject. “Please tell me you didn’t tell her any details about Jordie.”

           “No. I didn’t see anything he did to you. But she knows he raped you this time.”

           He coughed when he inhaled too fast. “What? How?”

           She furrowed her brow at him. “She’s your emergency contact, William, they gave her the results of the S-T-D screening.”

           “God damn it.” He rubbed his face in distress. “From now on, you’re my emergency contact.”

           Nikki chuckled. “You’re kind of an idiot sometimes.”

           “I am an idiot,” he mumbled.

           She pulled her feet up in the seat of the swing and hugged her legs. “Has anyone asked you what you’re going to do yet?” She nearly cut herself off. “I’m not asking you what you’re going to do, I’m asking if anyone has asked you.”

           “No, no one has asked me yet.”

           “Good.”

           William tapped his pipe with his middle finger. “But I need to figure it out.”

           Nikki looked at him again. “You need to heal.”

           He had a leisurely inhale and exhale. Pushing with his feet slightly, he started moving the swing. “Calkin is a loose cannon. The kind that Scarlet likes to wind up and watch it go. He’s the perfect distraction while she keeps plotting behind the scenes. I godda… get a gameplan, see if we need to redistribute or… just fuckin’ take him out.”

           She raised her hand. “I’m all for taking him out.”

           William smirked. “I know you are.”

           Nikki kept her eyes on him. “How are you.”

           He continued swinging lightly. “I’m fine.” When she didn’t take her eyes off him, he glanced at her, sighed, and rubbed his face again. “I don’t know.”

           “Still processing?”

           “I guess.”

           “That’s okay. This was a big one.” She looked at her lap. “Do you acknowledge that you refusing to say stop was… paramount to the whole thing?”

           William took his time with another drag from his pipe. “I suppose I did after you pointed it out. I mean when your mom told me.”

           Nikki turned her gaze on him again. “You weren’t thinking about that when it was happening?”

           He blinked. “I—wasn’t thinking about anything except how I was going to get out of there.”

           Now she blinked. “Then why didn’t you say stop?”

           The captain shrugged. “I mean I wasn’t thinking about… the big picture. You connected the dots and… made it pretty,” he chuckled. “But I don’t think my intentions were so noble in the moment. I think I was just being spiteful.”

           Nikki stared until her eyes drifted across the patio. “I suppose not giving him the satisfaction is the same as not wanting to give him power over you.”

           There was a pause before he said, “Not really.”

           “We’ll pretend then.”

           “I’m good with that.”

           She huffed and shook her head.

           “What.”

           “William Milord, the Accidental Hero.”

           He opened his mouth.

           “Ah-ah. Yes, you are. It’s not up for debate anymore. You have surpassed the phase of canceling out your past and you’re into the hero phase now.”

           “Jesus. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” He sat down on the sofa slowly.

           “Our only relative was a drug addict, so they tried to put Theo in a group home and me in assisted living. Since I was eighteen, I couldn’t go with him; they thought it would be better for me anyway. He refused.” She shrugged. “Not like a sixteen-year-old would do well in a group home anyway.”

           Camuel wrung his hands as he listened.

           “So, I became his legal guardian thanks to a really good lawyer. And Theo immediately got a job, working fast food, sometimes leaving class early under the guise of having a doctor’s appointment so he could get to his shift on time and work all night and go back to school the next morning. Did the same thing through college until we couldn’t afford tuition anymore.” She positioned her wheelchair near the sofa. “And I suppose you get the gist of the rest from there.”

           He nodded absently, thinking about Theo.

           “I really appreciate you letting him into your operation and giving us the buffer we needed so we weren’t just treading water. I have something else to ask though. Another favor.”

           “Okay.” He wrung his hands again.

           “I want you to turn me.”

           Camuel’s lips tightened. He saw this coming. “… Charlotte, I—”

           “Did Teddy—Theo tell you about my disease?” she interjected.

           “… He said it’s called… muscular dystrophy.”

           She nodded. “Uh huh, did he happen to mention that it’s fatal?”

           He blinked. “N-no.”

           “Mhm,” Charlotte sat back in her wheelchair and crossed her arms. “Wanna know something he doesn’t know?”

           Camuel stared.

           “At my last check-up they gave me about seven more years. Four until I’m bedridden. Or in one of those fully automatic wheelchairs we could never hope to afford.”

           He swallowed.

           “Here’s the problem with that: we’ll be broke again when I’m hospitalized and after I’m gone, Theo will be drowning in debt for another decade and he won’t even get to enjoy adulthood without having to take care of me.” Her icy blue eyes locked on his. “I will not let that happen. I can’t. Do you understand?”

           Camuel’s lips remained tight against his teeth, like he was trying to hide his fangs, though he wasn’t sure why.

           “Now. I either off myself while we’re still able to get by, or you cure me, and I have every opportunity in the world to pay him back for everything he’s lost because he’s a better brother than I deserve.”

           When it appeared she was now awaiting his response, he swallowed again. “Well… that’s a convincing argument if I’ve ever heard one.”

           She nodded as if to say she already knew.

           He kept wringing his hands. “There’s… no chance you’ll ever get better?”

           “No. My muscle function will continue to deteriorate until I need a ventilator.”

           He flinched at the statement, though it barely fazed her. Camuel inhaled. “I—I know you know this. But I need to hear you say it… before I agree.” He saw a twinkle in her eyes at the word “agree.” “I need you to verbally acknowledge that you will be trading one disease for another.”

           She blinked. “I’m aware. And I’d much rather have the one that doesn’t make me a timebomb.”

           “You’d—still be a timebomb,” he clarified, “You just have to keep… adding time to your countdown. And if you let that clock run out…” He took his turn locking his eyes on hers. “It’s not just you it will hurt.”

           For a moment he thought she might try to keep arguing how it was hardly a decision, but then she said, quite somberly, “I acknowledge and accept that responsibility.”

           They stared at each other for a moment. He took a breath and sat back, nodding at his lap slowly. “Okay,” he said in just above a whisper. “I’ll do it.”

           Charlotte’s chest expanded and she straightened her posture as much as she could. “Will you do it now?”

           He was frozen in thought for a moment, his mind still glancing across things like Theo’s feelings about this, Charlotte’s expiration date, her challenges she was bound to face after turning, was this the right thing to do. Camuel asked himself the question again. Was this the right thing to do? … Theo didn’t deserve any more hardship than he had already endured. And Charlotte did not deserve a premature death just because she was genetically unlucky. Camuel nodded. “Yeah. I can do it now.”

           She looked exhilarated. “We’re gonna need a washcloth.” She rolled out of the living room toward the bathroom. He was only left with his own circulating thoughts for a moment before she had returned and parked her wheelchair in front of him. “Is there… like, a spot you prefer?”

           He shook his head. “I’ve never done this before.”

           Charlotte gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve never bitten anyone?”

           “No. But it doesn’t matter. Wherever you don’t mind having a scar.”

           She pondered a moment. “Well… if you’ve never tried it from the vein, I want you to be able to get a good taste.” After a second, she held up her arm and tapped near the bend. “Right here?”

           “Sure.”

           Charlotte took the wet cloth and scrubbed vigorously on the spot she indicated to clean it. “I read that it can make you feel kinda high when you bite someone. I know I won’t pass out, but I want to be sure that you won’t.”

           He smirked. “I won’t.”

           She wiggled a bit. “I feel like I should salt it for you or something. Okay. Go ahead.” Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut.

           Camuel carefully held the bottom of her arm. “You’re sure this is what you want.”

           The raven-haired young woman opened her frosty eyes on him. “It’s not about me wanting to be a vampire, Camuel. This is the only way I can ensure Teddy will be able to live his life.” She didn’t correct herself and call him Theo this time.

           He nodded. “All right.” He waited until she closed her eyes and scrunched her face up again before he lowered his mouth to her skin. To be honest, his heart was racing. His first bite. Camuel thought he shouldn’t do it slow, as this might make it more painful. But he also didn’t want to do it quick for fear of startling her. Perhaps neither, an in-between speed of puncture would be best. So, he opened his jaws, pressed down, and latched.

           And his first real taste. It was true. Just like they said. It was sweet, sour, and savory all at once. He felt an immediate, almost electric shock, mild, like a warm tingle. It coursed through his very veins—not her blood but whatever was in it that made him feel spectacular. Camuel carefully pulled his fangs out of her flesh and leaned back, being careful to not drip. He closed his dry lips and lifted his eyes to her.

           Charlotte covered the dots on her arm with the cloth. “Good?”

           “Yes, very. You okay?” His brain was buzzing.

           She dipped her chin at him. “That wasn’t much at all. You literally just, like, stuck me. You want… a little more?”

           “Oh, no, no thank you.” He waved a hand.

           She must have been able to tell, because she rolled her eyes and took the cloth away. “Come on, get a real drink.”

           When she pushed her arm toward him, he answered as he leaned into it. “Okay, maybe just…” His fangs were in her again. When her blood touched his tongue his eyes closed autonomously. He caressed her arm and gently sucked, drawing a flood of deliciousness in, enough to submerge his bottom teeth. This time when he unlatched and leaned back, he’d made a mess. He hadn’t yet the wherewithal to wipe his mouth, still blissed out almost like after an orgasm. Camuel was still dissociated when Charlotte put another washcloth in his hand. Only then did he come to and rub it across his mouth. Then he sighed. “Wow, that’s so good.”

           “Yeah?”

           “Yeah, it’s really, really good. I can start to kind of see why people attack people for it now.” He shook his head a little to focus. “Okay. Bandages.”

           She chuckled. “In the medicine cabinet.”

           Camuel retrieved them from the bathroom with some antiseptic and returned. “You didn’t even flinch. Did it hurt bad?”

           “No more than anything else.” She let him clean the holes on her arm then bind it.

           He made sure to secure the bandages tight, but not too tight. “You may feel sick for a couple of days. Have you read about turning?”

           “Yeah. I’m prepared. Thank you.”

           “Just stay hydrated. Don’t consume any blood until you feel hungry for it. You’ll know the feeling when you feel it.”

           “Hey.” She put her hand on his shoulder to make him look at her eyes. “Thank you.”

           Camuel exhaled. “You’re welcome. I look forward to you feeling better.”