Alice lay in bed, her body burning up as her temperature soared. The shivering grew worse, and she felt as if she were freezing from the inside out. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Oddly enough, that didn’t bother her. Quite the opposite. She was almost relieved she couldn’t quite process the fact that she hadn’t made it to bed on her own. And it obviously hadn’t been Marcel who got her there. That left just one person.

  Given the fever, she decided to believe it was the cleric. Or maybe one of her neighbors. In her condition, any nonsense seemed perfectly plausible. She closed her eyes as the chaos in her head intensified. It almost amused her. Technically, she could have been back on her feet in a few hours. All it would take was restoring her body’s baseline pattern through meditation. But that wasn’t happening. Not like this. Her focus couldn’t last more than three minutes at a time, let alone through a full meditative state. Clearly, her body had its own opinion about how to handle the virus. She disagreed but didn’t have the strength to argue. The absurdity of that made her want to laugh. Too bad she didn’t even have the energy for that.

  Then she felt a hand on her forehead. It was such a pleasant sensation, so calming, that she immediately assumed it was just a fever dream. Still, she gave in to it completely. The hand was dry, cool, gentle yet strong. It radiated something unmistakable: power.

  “No, no, no…” she groaned, trying to pull away. “I’ve got this. Go away.”

  “I know,” he said. It might have sounded sweet, even encouraging, if only he’d stopped there.

  “Yesterday, you proved it again. Using a cleric? That was a hell of a move. Considering you even managed to desecrate a temple in the process.”

  “It was just the sacristy, okay?” she growled, still trying to escape that maddeningly wonderful touch. “It’s not like we fucked on the altar.”

  “Still pretty impressive. And I didn’t think you’d be able to seal the wound on your own. I was standing right there, ready to offer a helping hand, but, just like always, you went with cleverness over common sense.”

  She didn’t have the energy for this conversation. She wanted to sink into the ground. Die. Shatter into a thousand pieces. Everything hurt. She had a fever, chills, coughing; no runny nose yet, but that was just a matter of time. Nausea was probably on its way too. And of course, she was drenched in sweat. Her clothes could probably fill three glasses with it. She felt absolutely disgusting. But what really got to her, what truly made her want to vanish, was the fact that he was seeing her like this. The Not-a-Doctor. He always saw her like this. He was always watching. She knew it. Even when his eyes weren’t on her, some part of his mind tracked her every move. She was painfully aware of it.

  “Why me…?” she whimpered.

  Silence followed. It was a loaded, deliberate silence. That bastard was definitely smiling, and it was that subtle, perfectly controlled smile he’d mastered over the years. And no, it wasn’t comforting.

  Then something happened she hadn’t expected. He sat down on the bed beside her and laid a hand gently on her forehead again. Her symptoms began to fade, little by little. She still had no energy, but her mind was clearing, making it easier to focus.

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  “You agreed to it,” the dark-haired man said in his soft, melodic voice. “I could give you a long, detailed explanation. I could tell you who you used to be, what you did, why you chose this path… but the truth is, you don’t need to know any of that. You were born to die at the right moment. I’m just here to make sure Death doesn’t forget about you.”

  Alice stayed silent. The Not-a-Doctor had nothing more to add. Her heart beat steadily but somehow louder, somehow different. She’d known all of this for a long time. So why did it still hurt to hear it?

  Tears welled up in her eyes. She scolded herself. Now was not the time for self-pity. She’d been down that road before. It never changed anything. She blinked a few times, forcing the tears away. She was strong enough for this.

  “Life’s a bitch…” she whispered, and a strange thought popped into her mind.

  Alice was almost sure there was more to that line, but she couldn’t remember the rest.

  “…and I’m her pimp,” the Not-a-Doctor finished quietly.

  “Those were her words, weren’t they?” Alice asked, the whole scene beginning to feel unreal. “God, this is so surreal. I feel like…”

  “…like a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong jigsaw,” he said, smirking again.

  “Yeah,” she sighed, closing her eyes.

  Sleep came instantly. The man lifted his hand from her burning forehead. He’d given her just enough energy to deal with an ordinary flu. Not that it posed any real threat to her life, and that wasn’t why he’d been forced to manifest in this world anyway. No, that would’ve been too simple. And during times like these, times of great upheaval, nothing was ever that simple.

  He rose from the bed and studied the girl carefully. Everything was proceeding perfectly, exactly as it should, except for one thing. The world had gone mad faster than anyone could’ve predicted. They’d had to accelerate everything again, push Alice into situations she was never supposed to face. It wasn’t easy, and it sure as hell wasn’t pleasant. But it was necessary. This was war, and the worst kind of war. Total war. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t the one calling the shots. None of this was his decision to make. It simply had to happen. He reached toward her but didn’t touch. There was no need. The energy was already flowing freely. When his palm had rested on her forehead earlier, he’d managed to pinpoint the core of her soul. He hadn’t meant to. God knew he’d tried to avoid it from the start. But apparently, that choice wasn’t his to make either.

  When the flow of energy began to stall and the core pushed back against awakening, wrapping itself in tighter and tighter defenses, he increased the pressure, crushing most of the barriers. He had to be careful. Total destruction of the shields could’ve been catastrophic for the fragile construct that was the human psyche. Not to mention, the unleashed power might reveal the girl’s true identity. It would be a side effect they couldn’t afford. No, this kind of brutal breach required finesse, and no one combined violence and precision quite like he did. He felt it. There’s no better word for it. He felt the majority of the barriers pop like soap bubbles. A few remained, the weakest ones closest to the core. It was enough for now, at least. The rest, Alice would tear down on her own.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, already preparing to leave this world. “But I’m not even a little bit sorry.”

  And then the black-haired man was gone, leaving behind only a strange emptiness.

  A violent jolt ripped through Alice’s body. She had no idea. Her mind had fled to a state of unnatural sleep, a gift from him that spared her from the worst of what was to come. But her body couldn’t stay indifferent. The core had begun to awaken, and with it came a surge of energy like poison. Matter broke apart under its force, only to rebuild and reassemble itself moments later. Even unconscious, tears streamed from her eyes. Her jaw clenched tight, every muscle straining beyond its limit. The pain flooding her brain was staggering. If not for the induced sleep, she probably would’ve gone mad from the sheer onslaught of sensation. Tissue after tissue split and reformed, and from her throat came a soundless scream so high-pitched it fell far beyond the range of human hearing.

  The process would go on for hours. No one would have noticed, if not for the frenzied howling of the neighborhood dogs.