I must’ve nodded off because I realized I was waking up as we arrived at Antun’s home. My everything ached but most especially my ankles and wrists. Even the air stung them as my rope burns were exposed. I knew that cleaning them was going to feel like hell.

  Using a code on his door keypad, Antun let us all in. He invited Syla in last, glancing at me as if to confirm, is she good?

  I rolled my eyes, a good enough answer for Antun, and Syla walked in. Stunned at the modern architecture of the place, she spun in a slow circle, taking everything in until she noticed our group walking up the stairs. She quickly followed, not wanting to be left behind in this unfamiliar place.

  Antun led me to the bathroom to clean my wounds. I turned on the tap water, just a little cooler than room temp, putting my wrist under. My knees nearly buckled. I sucked in a huge breath through my nose and groaned, trying not to scream aloud at the pain.

  Michael put his hands under my arms when my knees looked weak, helping to hold me up through the pain.

  As Antun helped wash my wrists, he looked at the damage. “It looks like there’s blisters all the way around and a few raw areas. I’m sorry this hurts, I promise we’re almost done.”

  I only nodded, indicating that I just needed him to hurry up. Once we were finally done washing my wrists, Antun grabbed a big gauze pad, dabbing at the wounds to dry them as much as he could.

  “Let’s hope this doesn’t scar too badly. You’ve got good skin.”

  I glared at him. Gee, thanks asshole, like I needed another thing to worry about, I thought.

  He got the message, ducking his head, whether in apology or to grab the ointment, I wasn’t sure. He carefully dabbed the ointment onto my wound with a gloved finger, trying to be as gentle as possible. He wrapped my wrists loosely with a gauze roll, using medical tape to secure the end.

  “Alright, Love, time for those ankles.”

  Right.

  Shit.

  Luckily, they didn’t hurt as badly as my wrists, but they did still hurt quite a bit. I sat on the edge of the tub. Michael stood behind me as Antun carefully washed my ankles. Antun saw the bottoms of my feet. “Hon, I’m washing these too, after.”

  He took a cupful of clean water and poured it over my ankle.

  I flinched with the sting and Michael put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m okay,” I told him through gritted teeth, but he kept his hand there, an anchor while the world was unstable.

  Antun was quick and efficient; it made me wonder if he had spent some time studying medicine in the last 500 years. He carefully washed my foot after, as promised, double checking that the sole was uninjured. He repeated the same procedure on the other side, having found a rhythm as he cared for my wounds.

  After what felt like ages with the pain, we were finally done. The tender skin pulled and stretched as I tried to walk.

  “Would you like a lift?” I turned around. Michael had his arms out, an invitation. I gave only a moment of thought before I nodded and he scooped me up, careful not to jostle my wounds.

  Michael set me down on the couch next to Syla and she immediately hugged me. I stiffened in surprise but accepted her hug, knowing that it was as much for her as for me.

  I yawned as Michael sat on my other side, sandwiching me in the middle of them. I took a few deep breaths, feeling a little stifled until Michael shifted away a few inches, all he could if he wanted to keep his butt on the seat. I smiled my thanks, and he smiled back, not nearly as brightly.

  His concern softened something inside me and I put my hand between us on the couch, inviting. His eyes brightened as his hand gently clasped my own, my wrist gently resting on top of his arm.

  Syla noticed Michael’s precarious seating, scooting over so he could be fully on the couch as well.

  Antun sat bent over across from us in his usual seat, elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled in front of his face. “So, there’s a little bit to unpack here. Drew, mind giving us your version of events there at the end?” At the end, he must mean when Nikola…

  “I had managed to hide a fork in the waistband of my pants earlier. I stabbed Nikola after he bit me. There was screaming. Then everything started going dark. I remember thinking I didn’t want to die. Then…” I was still trying to believe what happened next.

  “Then, I heard a voice asking if I wanted to live.” Both Michael and Antun gasped. Syla was confused by their reaction but her answers would have to wait. “I said yes and then it told me to “hold on.” I was kinda pulled back in, I think, from dying. Then you were there. That’s it.”

  Silence followed. I yawned; I couldn’t help it.

  “Why don’t we rest now, regroup in the morning?”

  No one fought Antun’s suggestion. Syla and I followed him to the guest room, and I think he got Michael set up on the couch with blankets afterward. I wasn’t too sure. I don’t think I was even awake by the time my head hit the pillow.

  I slept like the dead, no dreams at all. Just empty blackness. I squinted at the light shining through the window slats, starting to wake me up. I tried to sit up, my wrists reminding me of last night. They were tender today, but Antun said he had some acetaminophen; maybe I could ask him for some. I swung my legs out of the bed. They felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, but I stood up, groaning at the various aches and pains that were more obvious to me now that the adrenaline of last night had worn off.

  Michael was sitting up on the couch downstairs, a blanket still partly on his lap as he scrolled through his phone.

  “Hey,” I said, surprising him a little.

  “Hey,” he replied. “How are you feeling?”

  “Is ow a good enough descriptor?”

  Michael chuckled and nodded, moving the blankets and patting a spot on the couch for me to sit. I walked, my ankles tender, over to the couch.

  “How’d you sleep out here?”

  “It’s always weird sleeping away from home, but that said, I was out like a light as soon as I hit the pillow. Didn’t even dream.”

  It felt like someone had injected my veins with lead, everything was heavy. “Huh, same,” I said, yawning again. “Have you ever seen Antun’s kitchen? Do you think he has a coffee maker, I’m dying.” Another yawn punctuated the end of my statement.

  Michael shrugged but Antun walked in the room just then, coffees on a tray. He carefully set it down, handing a mug first to me, then to Michael.

  “Cream, sugar,” he said, pointing, “If you want any.” I did my usual mix while Michael drank his coffee straight.

  “Mmm, Antun! What kind of coffee do you use? This is fantastic,” Michael gushed.

  “Oh, I’m a snob with my coffee. Most of it tastes like shit in my humble opinion. I have to special order mine from a friend down in South America. He’s a good man, knows a good bean from bad if his coffee is anything to go by.”

  Michael nodded his agreement. I tried it. It was really good. I might’ve been able to even try it straight for how smooth it tasted.

  I heard the guest room door open and close. Syla started coming down the stairs, awakened by the aroma. She accepted a mug graciously and sipped at her coffee, her shoulders relaxing as she inhaled the calming smell.

  We all sat in silence save for the sounds of sipping. It might’ve been awkward if I was a little more awake, but right now I just wanted to enjoy my coffee.

  “Drew.” Antun waited for my attention. “I stayed up all night looking through Davor’s journal, trying to figure out what that light was that we saw. I am not very happy to share this.” He took a deep breath and set his shoulders. “I think he took part of your life’s energy.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “My mana?” I asked, a little confused.

  “No. Do you remember how he was trying to steal specifically people’s reincarnation energy? Well, I think that’s what Nikola managed to do, at least until you stabbed him. If he had gotten all of it, you’d probably be gone.”

  His solemn tone helped ground me. “You think he managed to steal a portion of that energy?” He nodded. My eyelids felt heavy as bricks. “Do you think,” I asked, “That whatever he did, made it so that I’m like this? All exhausted?”

  “It could be that. Or it could be that you just escaped the same lunatic for a second time and are actually exhausted. I wouldn’t call anything yet, I’d wait until things are a little more normal again.”

  “Heh, normal,” I scoffed. Nothing had been normal ever since I saw Michael bite Kelsey’s neck. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said, waving my hand at the stern look he gave me. “So, what is the plan, then? I can’t just call off work…”

  “You can for the day. I’ll go in, why don’t you stay here and get more rest.” I nodded at his suggestion, not worried about the floor being in his hands.

  I headed back toward the guest room, his idea making my feet move of their own accord. “I think I’ll do more of that right now.”

  I called Trevor on my way to the room. “Hey Trevor, this is Drew.”

  “Drew, my God you sound terrible! Are you okay?”

  “I am not. I don’t think its food poisoning this time, more likely that 24-hour bug that’s been making the rounds though the building.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. Sucks though. So, you’re calling in sick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alright. I hope Michael makes it in today, maybe the floor won’t catch fire that way.” I gave a pity chuckle at his attempt at humor. “You take care now. Bye Drew.”

  “Bye.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed, all my joints and muscles sore like I had done all kinds of exercises wrong.

  Syla had followed me, and stood in the middle of the guest room, internally struggling as she debated what to do.

  “I’m sorry, Drew. For all of it; for what Nikola did, for my part in it…” Her voice trailed off as her guilt ate at her. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of all the people who never got out, of her complacency.

  “Syla, it wasn’t your fault.”

  She looked up, eyes round and glistening. She wanted to believe me.

  “You are as much a victim of Nikola as I am. What matters is you did something about it; you took back your agency. Even after I escaped the first time and he hit you, you still helped me escape again. Only a good person would do that.”

  She had tears in her eyes as she crossed the room, hugging me tightly. “We’ll get through this, won’t we,” she said, some conviction returning to her voice.

  I smiled wide, “You know it.”

  Her brows drew down as she thought about something. “Drew, do you think that the light really was part of your energy?”

  “I don’t know, I think so. What else could it have been? Maybe if not the energy itself, it was showing where it was?”

  Syla’s shoulders lifted, her shrug telling me that she was just as confused as I.

  I felt as if I was going to fall over and off the bed from being so sleepy. “Let’s talk about it more another time. Don’t know about you but I’m ready to sleep.”

  I groaned as I laid down, needing Syla’s help to lift my legs onto the bed. I could not remember a time when I had been more bone-wearily tired. It didn’t take long for me to drift back into sleep.

  ? ?? ?

  I lost track of time that week. One day bled into the next, but my exhaustion didn’t improve. I stayed at home while Michael went to work, having to take a leave of absence while we figured out just why it felt like someone had poured cement into my body and told me to walk through it.

  “A leave of absence? This sounds really serious, Drew,” Trevor fretted.

  “Just until I can figure out what exactly is going on. You don’t want me passing out on the way to work, right?”

  “Of course not!” he hurriedly replied. “You take the time you need. You trained Michael so at least we won’t be entirely without a QCE while you’re gone.”

  “Do you even need me back?” I quipped.

  “YES!” He cleared his throat, embarrassed at the outburst. “Of course we do. Our floor without Drew Nelson just wouldn’t be the same.”

  “Alright. I’ve got to go now, I need to go take some medication,” I didn’t entirely lie.

  “Of course. You just get yourself better. See you when you come back.”

  “See you then. Bye.” I hung up, winded from the short exchange, although I’m sure it had more to do with Trevor himself than my condition.

  The internet thought it sounded like fibromyalgia, but to have it suddenly onset literally overnight like this had is not very common. I knew it wasn’t anything natural. I tried not to cry whenever I couldn’t make it to the couch, my legs too sore to move my body from my bed at times.

  The other day, I had even tried to do the dishes while Michael was at work so he wouldn’t have to do them later. I barely made it to the sink without my legs giving out. I sat on the ground and screamed, my frustration mounting. I finally managed to make it to the couch, the dishes untouched.

  Antun had to admit that I might’ve been right. The working theory was that Nikola managed to steal a part of my reincarnation energy but not all of it, leaving me as drained as I was. I rubbed at my chest, no mark remaining but the ghost of his bite still there.

  My blisters continued to improve at least, even if I hadn’t regained my energy. It was as if all the energy or mana or whatever I had remaining was going towards improving my wounds. While it would be nice to be rid of these sores, a lot of the time I was wishing for a little bit of my energy back. Just walking from one room to another was exhausting, leaving me out of breath and dizzy.

  I thought about reincarnation. All I had really heard about it before was that it was something Hindus believed in. What was reincarnation like? Did it follow the traditional definition or was this more existential? I had always thought there was some kind of afterlife; how did reincarnation play into that? Without all my energy, what would happen when I did die? Would I only have enough energy to reincarnate as a plant or something?

  “Do you think I’ll be able to reincarnate, if I don’t have all of my energy? Or am I already screwed?” I asked Michael one day while we were on the couch.

  He looked at me, horrified. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, “My brain has had too much time to think and not enough work. I’m going bonkers but I’m too tired to do anything! It is extremely frustrating. If this is what having fibromyalgia is like, it sucks.”

  Michael sighed, bumping his shoulder against mine. “I don’t know, all I know is my best friend is suffering and it feels like I can’t do anything to help her.”

  I smiled. “You being here helps. After how long you’ve lived here, we may as well put your name on the lease.”

  He laughed, and I laughed. Oh, why did laughing have to take so much energy? “Are you due to change those?” He pointed to the bandages on my wrists.

  “Probably.”

  “Would you like some help?” I nodded and he got the small kit of blister care stuff that Antun had made for me out of the bathroom. He knelt on the ground in front of me as he took care of them.

  He sat up when he finished, his face mere inches from my own. I’m not sure who was more surprised between the two of us, but neither of us moved. Michael looked to my mouth and swallowed. His lips parted as he looked back up to my eyes. His mouth, that birthmark. He looked as if he’d say something.

  His mouth… I want to kiss him so badly but I’m scared. What if this ruins things between us?

  He leaned in before I could think – and kissed me. Our kiss was soft and slow, a gentle press of our lips before his lips parted from mine. I lifted a hand to his face and drew him back in.

  He had the barest bit of stubble, as if he didn’t shave yet that morning, scratchy against my mouth. He leaned back, parting our lips, his eyes finding mine. I put my other hand to his face, pulling him back in again. I wanted, needed more of him, and he seemed quite willing to give it to me. He pushed closer, pulling my body closer to his, our bodies pressed together.

  I hissed in pain and he immediately backed up, his eyes wide with worry. “What’s wrong?”

  As I had moved my hand to reach for his hair, my wrist had brushed against something on the way. I held my wrist, and he seemed to understand without me saying anything. My dejection felt like a palpable lump in my chest.

  “Hey.” His gentle tone made me look up, his face still close. He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, going no further. He smiled, “At least we seem to be on the same page.” I chuckled in agreement. Who knew if we were actually on the same page, but we seemed to be in the same book at least.

  Just that little burst of activity had drained me again. I growled. “Really tired of being tired already.”

  Michael gave me a sympathetic smile, knowing that I was going stir crazy.

  “But yeah, we seem to be on the same page.”

  His eyes glowed with a kind of happiness I had never seen in him before. He looked to my mouth once more, then back to my eyes.

  He shook his head, clearing his throat and asking, “Um, are you due to take more painkillers yet?”

  I nodded, still a little dazed from the kiss, and he went over to the kitchen, getting a glass of water ready so I could take them. He brought it back and I popped the pills into my mouth. I swallowed them down with some water, my nose scrunching at the bitter flavor left behind from the tablets.

  “Guh, hate the taste, but I’d rather not hurt so bad.” Michael’s gaze softened as he mirrored my grimace. I moved as if I would stand and he was immediately there, offering a hand for me to grab as the other hand went to support my back as I stood.

  “You’re acting like I’m senile or something.”

  “Well, stop walking like you’re senile and I will.” I stuck my tongue out at him, earning me a grin. He helped me up, one hand holding mine and the other on my elbow to give me leverage. I let out a weary breath. I tried not to let it get to me, but it was so discouraging to feel like this all the time.

  “Hey,” Michael said again to get my attention. “You’ll get past this; I know we’ll figure something out.”

  His faith warmed my heart, and my smile was genuine as I said, “Thank you, Michael.”

  “For what?” He looked confused.

  “For all of it, but right now,” I steeled myself, “Thank you for being my best friend. I can’t imagine going through this without you. And when it seemed like I might never see you again, I couldn’t help but think…” My voice trailed off, embarrassment taking hold. “I couldn’t help but think that I’d never have a chance to tell you how much you mean to me. You’re more than my best friend, whatever that’s called, and I wanted to have the chance to tell you that.”

  My face felt hot, but I finally said it, as much as I could say. I was sure my entire body down to my toes was flushing with my statement. I hoped that my broken words made enough sense for him.

  Michael hooked a finger under my chin, raising my face. “I think you’re more than my best friend, too, whatever that is.” His eyes dropped to my mouth before lifting to my eyes again. “Drew…” his voice was low, a rumbling baritone, and the sound of my name from him was like a purr, gentle and caressing. His hand found its way to my face, and I leaned in to his touch. He sighed, “How badly I want to kiss you again… but your wounds. Once you’re all better…” his eyes glowed with predatory intent, barely leashed. If I hadn’t already been blushing, that look certainly would have done it by itself.

  “I think,” I pulled on his shirt, making him bend down, “That you’re thinking too much.” And I kissed him, hardly more than a peck, but enough to let him know that I, too, felt impatient for more than one reason. In that moment, I didn’t feel like a broken, drained thing. I felt alive.

  Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and follow!

  I recently set up a Patreon with bonus content, including pictures and lore. Go scratch that itch, you know you want to.