"You should sleep," Ulan said. It was awkward, like he was announcing his presence to me even though I already knew he was there. I don’t know if he really knew I’d felt him moving around inside the entire warehouse, but I assumed it. I never did give him any real idea of my range, which was probably bigger than anything he’d likely estimate. Part of me knew I was being unfair by keeping so much a secret from him. Part of me reveled in punishing him by not telling him.

"I can’t sleep," I told him. "Recalls. Oncloy hasn’t worn off."

He nodded, then sat in a chair adjacent to the couch. I think he knew my reasoning was only a half-truth. My knees bouncing in rapid succession was enough to convince him that he didn’t need his psycho abilities to figure out that I was still being reluctant about what I told him. I could feel him edging me with them, though, trying not to prod me too hard.

"I don’t dream much anymore, Ulan," I said, trying to satisfy his ache to understand what had become of me. That sympathetic part of me gained some ground. "Most times I have Recalls instead. Oncloy makes it more numerous, more intense. And all the other accessory abilities are high-strung now too."

He sat a glass of water and two pills—Onclav, a Skipper’s cure-all—on the low table rather than hand them directly to me. "Drea said you could take them now. That it should be safe if you... cuddle him?"

Cuddle would be Drea’s phrasing. I looked from Ulan to ‘him.’ Feral Icon was sleeping, deeply, like a short-term hibernation, on the couch. I sat, cross-legged, on the floor, facing Feral, stroking him. Head, shoulder, arm, hip, back. Back, hip, arm, shoulder, head.

"Touch helps him heal," I explained. My voice was low, intimate. It wasn’t to avoid disturbing Feral Icon’s sleep. The intimacy of it fed him like touch could. "She asleep?" I meant Drea, of course.

"Yes," Ulan said. He’d either taken my manner of speaking as a hint, or his empathy picked up on it, because his voice held the same low, intimate quality as mine did now. "I’ve heard rumors about pack-weres," he continued. "Wouldn’t it be quicker if she did it too? And me? Even though he doesn’t know me."

"Yes," I said, sweet-toned, whispery. "Drea is depleted. Guiding his shift to completion exhausted her. She emits hardly any...glow—for lack of a better word."

"You can feel that, spatially? I mean, that’s how your spatial sense feels her?"

I shrugged. Too wound up to go into detail of it, too tired too, and knowing how much was still to come was making me feel like someone put boulders in each bra cup to drag me down. It was beside the point at the moment, anyway. The point was, I explained, "She has no reserves for him to draw on. It could maybe kill her, and he’d draw on her death, pulling him in that direction too."

"Like with Vampires, when they drink past their victim’s death?" His tone betrayed his attempted tolerance and nonchalance.

"Some breeds, yes." I said, still stroking Feral’s side. Head, shoulder, arm, hip, back. Back, hip, arm, shoulder, head. "You, well, I’m just not sure. I know your difficulties with social closeness," I said, trying to be judicious with how I worded it. "And with being empathic—"

He shook his head, habitual denial. I got the idea that his experiences told him people tended to be even more leery of someone reading emotions than of someone reading thoughts.

I raised a brow and he accepted it with a deflating sigh.

"Death, unease—they’re equals," he said, confirming. He was keeping it sterile and academic, now, I could tell, still low, but less intimate.

He was uncomfortable, hesitant. His body language all but screamed it. Even living with all these changes for the last several years, most people still related to many of the transformations in hearsay terms. A person’s scope of experience was limited to what occurred in the sphere they carved out of the universe to be his or her life. Reading about a vampire attack that took place even in your city was still different than having your lover, mid-sentence, pounce on you with a bloodlust newly born. Ulan was awkward, socially, before the changes. After them, well, I assumed it worsened ten-fold. He had a nimble mind though, and was levelheaded when dealing with a topic in conceptual terms.

"Drags him under in a less than positive way?" Unsurprisingly understated. "And we’re short on recovery time as it is."

"Exactly," I said. I was trying to make my strokes—head, shoulder, arm, hip, back, back, shoulder, arm, hip, head—guide the tempo and tamber of my voice.

"And gleaming from the static I get off you, too much of your contact could be like giving him surgery when all he needs is stitches?"

"Basically."

"And so combining Onclav with—" he was still having difficulty with the intimate concept "—cuddling him would be beneficial to both of you?"

"I’d likely sleep, maybe even dream instead of Recall."

"So...?"

"Why don’t I?"

He nodded and I felt it through my currently hyper-sensitive spatial sense. Chills up my spine. Knees bouncing. Thankfully, stroking Feral soothed me some, helped focus me. Head, shoulder, arm, hip, back. Back, hip, arm, shoulder, head.

"We need to get on the move soon," I answered, recollecting our status. "It’s been three hours already. Drea and Feral can’t do anything to help. I don’t trust you yet. Sorry, but everything about you still seems too convenient. So, that leaves me to solve this."

"You’ve got a plan, then?"

"No." I frowned. "Well, yes, but I don’t want to do it." A sigh. "But, we don’t have any other choice. The car’s not up and running yet, and they could trace the plates anyway."

"And the Traveler’s out, same reason. Computer and phones too. And how come whoever did this to him hasn’t come for us yet. They obviously sent him here. Or know where we are. He was ported here by a Traveler or a person who can teleport and neither came here with him."

"I know."

"So...?"

"The plan?" I felt him nod, so I continued. "To trust you."

Cryptic words, for sure, and they didn’t go without penalty.

I couldn’t stop smiling. I cuddled closer in his embrace, an arm hugging me close. The boardwalk was empty. Past midnight on a weeknight in a town whose night owls were comprised of scientists too brainy to button their shirts correctly or realize that their dinners went cold hours ago, so the solitude wasn’t startling. But I liked it, and Jeroen seemed to like it too. We were alone, not lonely.

The stars weren’t all that clear. The weather wasn’t as cool as we preferred it. The slivered-moon barely reflected on the water that wasn’t still as glass or pounding towards shore. An occasional swish revealed the infrequently stronger wave frothing onto the pebbly beach. Jeroen squeezed me closer, pressed a kiss to my temple, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

It was wonderful.

The sun was rising. It seemed too quick, the night stolen away too soon, and we were reluctant to let it go. Jeroen squeezed me closer, pressed a kiss to my temple, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

The sun cleared the horizon, and it never occurred to us that we weren’t facing east, and thus shouldn’t see it rise. The sun arched up and over the slivered-moon, then set, granting us back our night. Jeroen squeezed me closer, pressed a kiss to my temple, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

Larger and fierier, more ardent, as if angry that the moon had our favor, the sun rose again. It arched over the moon and set. Again. Jeroen clutched my shoulder. I stood, pulling him up with me. It wasn’t right. It’d only been a few minutes.

The sun burst up again, even larger, even brighter, even quicker, then arched over the moon, and set. It was circling the moon, I realized, the bottom of its arch dipped it entirely below the horizon, out of sight. So quick it sped, the night was just a blink. A few more rotations and there was no darkness at all. Faster, faster, faster, it circled, circled, circled, larger, larger, larger, brighter, brighter, brighter. We clutched each other tighter, shivering, stunned, in awe, until there was just a white glow throwing us back over the bench where we’d sat just moments before. And then all we saw was light, burning, searing light.

We couldn’t hold on to each other through the shock waves.

I blinked. The night sky was matted blue and black, the worst bruise. The stars were bright, but formed no constellations. I was on my back, lying down. I reached up and felt the ceiling. It was empty and black and vast, but I could see it, reach it, touch it, and be grounded by it.

"Jeroen..." I breathed.

The Heaven-bed wasn’t as scary without him, but that didn’t mean other things weren’t. I rolled over the edge, hung from the frame by my hands, and dropped. I was too tired, too worn out to raise the floor to cradle me down, but it was too high to just drop from, detached and rubbery as I was feeling, so I mustered the energy to make the floor bouncy enough to lessen the impact for me.

"Talia!" Ulan was at my side, steadying me, as I headed for the couch to check on Feral Icon.

"He’s fine," Ulan said, reading my thoughts. "I woke up Drea when you blacked out. She told me to put you in the Heaven-bed, then she laid down with Feral."

I guess my eyes widened or something... or he just read my thoughts again because then he said, "She’s fine too. She’s stronger than you give her credit for."

I relented with a nod. "Time?"

"It’s been fifteen minutes." He lowered me into the very chair he was in before I blacked out. "Recall?"

"Yeah. A tough one."

"Sorry."

I shrugged him off. At least, I thought I did. I wasn’t sure. I was a bit woozy from that particularly overwhelming Recall.

"I don’t mean to rush, but..."

"The sort of plan," I said, sure it sounded slurred. I fumbled in my pockets for a folded piece of paper. Finding it, I placed it in his hand, folded his fingers around it, squeezed, and without looking at him, said, "Don’t fail us."

I let him go and he started unfolding the paper. I stopped him, gently. "Not yet. Walk in any direction. After an hour, find a computer. Doesn’t matter where or how. Library, cyber café, steal a laptop—" he flinched at that "—whatever you want. But only after you’re an hour away, and then be speedy about it."

"Am I contacting someo—"

I shushed him with a finger on his lips. I was so tired. So, so tired. I needed more rest. "Don’t fail us."

I don’t know if I even repeated that last part out loud. I must’ve fallen asleep. I woke up a while later from a Recall I couldn’t remember once I woke up. They were fickle things, Recalls. By all specific terms, they were a perfect multidimensional memory of my own, yet I couldn’t always remember which memory I had relived after it ended. Sort of how like dreams could work, though they weren’t dreams.

Ulan was gone. I assumed he was carrying out my plan. Regardless, he left me to wait and see if my forced trust in him panned out. I didn’t want to know the time, how much had passed, how long since he left, how long until he got to a safe outside line, so I busied myself. I ate and drank some water. I packed some essentials for us, then stopped. It wasn’t wise to take anything with us. I had no way of knowing if anything had tracers planted on it. Sounds paranoid, I know, but if Ulan pulled through, it’d be stupid to sabotage it because I brought a change of panties, or even my prescription. At the same time, if Ulan didn’t pull through like we needed him to, then it wouldn’t matter if I packed. It also wouldn’t matter if I really slept then, either. I’d probably be dead. All of us.

I took the two Onclav with the glass of water that Ulan had set on the low table earlier. Drea had pulled Feral onto the floor, to spoon him from behind, since they wouldn’t both fit on the couch like that. I went to them, lying at Feral’s front, then affixed my back tightly against him so that he was spooning me. I drew his arm around me, snuggling his hand and forearm like a teddy bear. The warmth of it was lulling, comfy, and I slept. And I Recalled.

It was the most common of Recalls, though, thankfully, not the most painful of them.

When I woke next it was to the stench of the rankest breath I could ever remember smelling.

"Oscar!" I exclaimed as I sat up and threw my arms about Borneo’s first teleporter. His proximity had never been sweeter.

"Aww, and here I thought I was finally gonna get to tickle ya," he said, rumbling with laughter, as he hugged me back. "You know it’s been my life long dream to make ya pee yer pants, Talia."

"Damn, it’s good to see you, Oscar," I said, pulling back. "Rushing here like this..." I looked around him, but I didn’t see anyone with him. "Not even stopping to wash out that mouth..." Drea and Feral were still spooning on the floor. "Makes a girl weak in the knees." The bathroom door was open and it seemed to be empty.

"Quit yer worrying, girlie," Oscar said, ruffling my hair. "Gibbon’s getting him."

He always could call me on that stuff. I shoved him away, playfully, and didn’t even bother to fight the grin that was splitting my cheeks.

"Now get yer things, and lets get going. If yer calling on us for help, I doubt ya got time fer getting mushy with me ‘til we got ya squared away in the bordello."

I rolled my eyes at that ridiculous title he still clung too. Borneo definitely had his hands full with his bunch. Speaking of which... "Does he know yet?"

"Nah. But, screw it! He can chew my vomit if he doesn’t like it."

"That was disgusting." My stomach suddenly regretted that I ate earlier. Still, oddly, it was relieving to hear it. Oscar was about the grossest person I’d ever known, but he was a good friend to have when you needed rescuing. I hadn’t seen him since the WordOne trial ordeal.

"Shut up and get yer stuff."

"This is it. The three of us," I said, indicating Drea and Feral along with myself. "And leave the clothes."

"Now yer talking!"

I swatted him again for his crudity, but I laughed, loving him for it. "It’s to lose any tracers."

"Paranoid as ever."

"I’m still alive, and out and about, aren’t I?" I grabbed a handful of Onclav. The bottle couldn’t come, but it would’ve been more dangerous to go without any on me at all. I could keep it in my balled fist for the trip. "Plus, it might help convince him into giving us a warmer welcome. He always did like skin."

"Not as much as blood. Yum!" Oscar scooped me up, rolled me onto his back, expecting me to just hold myself on, then bent down to grab hold of Drea and Feral. "If we’re quick enough, I’ll reach Gibbon before he ports back and let him know he can strip yer boy." He hoisted Drea and Feral up and stood. With a glance over his shoulder back to me, he asked, "Should he warn yer boy or not?"

"You naughty boy, you, Oscar." I laughed. "What the hell, don’t tell him. We all could use the laugh."

Yeah, ‘cause Ulan was sure to react to showing up naked in a strange place filled with strange people the same way he’d react to being tickled. Sarcasm, the cynics cure all.

"A birthday surprise it is, then," He said with a wink at his own pun. Oscar still thought it was witty to call it a birthday suit.

He hopped back, his silly way of initiating a port. Before we descended, before we blinked out, I caught the briefest sight of my shirt flinging through the air ahead of us.

Into the lion’s den, we went. Or, more accurately, the into vampire’s kiss we went. Our safety would carry a blood debt. Ulan was just going to love that. Yeah, right.