Derrick Jangoral pushed the cat off his face, an automatic gesture from years of living in a pet store. “No, Bugsy. Go sleep at my feet.” There was already a Golden Retriever curled up there, and she growled at Bugsy.

“None of that, Chihiro. You know my rules. If you want to be in my room, you have to listen to me. Not that you don’t listen to me all the time, but I promise not to abuse that power.” Derrick wagged a finger at the animals and lay back. A hamster squeaked and scurried down his shirt. Derrick didn’t begrudge MD that, as it was a cold night. There may have been a ferret sleeping in the crook of his elbow, but he didn’t care.

Oh, Taylor. The only human that cared about him was an ocean away, and had been gone for two weeks now. Was it a mistake to propose to her before she left to be a missionary? No. It wasn’t. It was only eighteen months, and he could be sure of her coming back for him, even if it was only to give the ring back if she met some handsome Thai man.

“Eighteen months!” It was more a sob than a phrase.

Under the rules of being a Sister Missionary in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Taylor could call her family twice a year, and her fiancé never. Letters took a week to arrive, and she had little time to write, being busy doing service and proselytizing. Derrick wasn’t exactly swimming in time either, since he was running Junglelaughter’s Pet Pavilion single-handedly until Taylor’s best friend Joy came to work for him as a substitute for Taylor. There was a rash of unhappy people lately, the only people who ever found the store. Perhaps the election shattered his customers’ spirits.

Derrick sank back into sleep, hoping that he would stop dreaming about Canyonar. When Taylor met him and fell in love with him, she said she knew him from a previous life. Mormons didn’t believe in reincarnation, but she believed that she, Derrick, and her friends Joy and Art had once lived in another world, in a land called Canyonar. In her lifetime the world had ended, and her memories returned at the age of sixteen.

Ever since becoming engaged, he had started to remember. And he didn’t like it.

He dreamed of a bonfire, in which they threw textbooks, history books, and literature indiscriminately. Five hundred teenagers filed into long halls, listening to lectures about weapons, violence, and why they should invade the neighboring countries, kill all the adults, and start anew. He remembered a plague that spared only those aged eleven to twenty, striking down everyone else. Derrick’s mother, not his American mother but another one, was pale and weak, clutching at his hand, shaking, shivering, and dying. “Riq, Riq, Riq,” she repeated. He remembered this used to be his name.

A sixteen-year-old girl, unconscious, lay at his feet in a prison cell. He had a rifle and a uniform, while she was ragged and dirty with waist-long, tangled hair. She was so starved he could cut himself with her cheekbones, and she was covered in purple bruises. She called herself Ty.

He dreamed he watched people beat her and shout at her, asking her questions that she would not answer. Her screams tore through his intestines. He never touched her, but he let people cut her with small pocketknives, slit after slit until her blood filled the floor.

Then her friends saved her and captured him, and they did not hurt him at all. They read him books he had never thought about, just destroyed. He pledged himself to their cause, and they untied him and let him move freely, only handcuffing him to the furniture at night.

Ty was having a nightmare, and she sobbed in her sleep, so thin, so very thin and covered in scars. Not knowing what he was doing, he held her in his arms. “I love you. I won’t let anybody hurt you. I love you,” he whispered.

His dream skipped ahead, when he called a dragon and the enemy shot him three times. He fell, and he heard her anguished thoughts…

Derrick woke, sitting up, panting. The animals continued to sleep. Taylor? he thought. Taylor or Ty, I don’t care which one, I need you. I can’t let anything happen to you again. I have to pay.

He shouted in surprise when Taylor’s voice filled his mind. Derrick, what are you doing in my head? I’m in the middle of a discussion, and I think he’s gong to convert.

What do you mean? This is three AM.

Not to me, Riq. There’s a twelve-hour difference between the US East Coast and Thailand.

Aren’t you astonished?

After knowing you, nothing astonishes me. I appreciate that we have a telepathic mind-link, and I’m sure that will make many a sleepless night much more pleasant, but right now I’m busy.

How did this come to be?

Her thoughts were amused, happy, but slightly annoyed, as if she was explaining something to an adorable, yet troublesome, small child. You have retained more of your previous life powers than any of the four, though I remember Canyonar best. Back then we could talk to each other without speaking, though we couldn’t read each other’s minds. We could only perceive what the other imagined vocalizing. It only works between us, though. Don’t try it with anyone else. I tried back in Canyonar and I got a migraine.

Will I be able to do this with Joy, too?

I doubt it. I think we can only manage it when it’s needed.

I want to say that I love you and I miss you and I can’t believe this and I’m so excited…

Honey, please be quiet. I’m busy. We can make use of this ability later.

But, but…

Shush. Goodnight.

Derrick slithered down into the covers, dislodging a rat that had been entrenched outside his pants. He felt like a strange person in an even stranger world.