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Softness touches Elias’s face as he slowly smiles. It’s as if the comfort and joy of hiding out at Kyle’s house in Nowhere is returned at once, just by the two of them being in each other’s proximity again. There is hope in his eyes, in both their eyes.
Then Elias’s smile vanishes. “Kyle, who’s that?”
Kyle doesn’t need to look. “Probably security. I gave them quite a workout, chasing me down a hall or two, maybe up one of the stairwells. Nothing wrong with a healthy dose of cardio, right? Good for the heart.”
“That isn’t our security or anyone I know.”
Kyle frowns, then turns.
A set of misty blue eyes meet his.
Cold fingertips drag down his face, softly, sweetly.
Kyle’s eyes rock back, the world twists away.
24.
All Kinds of Bad.
—·—
Wake up.
Wake up.
Go ahead, wake up.
Yes, you.
Can you try to open your eyes for me?
If not for me, perhaps for your friends. They’ve been waiting so patiently for you.
Well, perhaps ‘patiently’ isn’t the right word.
To be honest, they are actually in quite a state of distress. Totally inconsolable. Like children, really.
But compared to you and me, they are children, aren’t they?
You and I, we are timeless.
We are forever.
We are the opposite of temporary.
I might recommend you wake up soon, at the very least to gather your thoughts before you meet Markadian, Lord of Vegasyn.
That’s his real name, by the way. I didn’t make that up.
He also demands the title always be said with his name.
A bit overly dramatic, don’t you think?
I have never been one for theatrics. I suggested once that he go by just Mark. I regretted suggesting that immediately.
Are you ready to wake up yet? No?
Anyway, I’m afraid I may not be able to help you out of this one, my love. I’m sorry.
These people, these bureaucrats of our world, they can be terrible.
I wished I could have kept you away from their clutches.
I suggested we stay hidden forever. I suggested you stay hidden forever. I suggested we live on our own in the woods, in a town lost to time, in the wilderness, even Canada, hidden forever and ever.
Now you’re there. And I’m here.
And you still won’t wake up.
Perhaps this is my fault. I wasn’t serious enough. I expected you to take me seriously, to stay hidden, and instead you broke the internet with your heroic theatrics, you angered Markadian, Lord of—really, it’s so exhausting to say the whole title—and now look at you, in this prickly pickle.
I expected you to heed my words. To understand, to learn.
But you won’t even heed my suggestion to wake up right now.
Of course, it is only a suggestion, you’re not obligated to obey. You can stay sleeping if you want. Just for a while longer. A little while.
You probably have a lot of questions for me.
You might even hate me. I’d understand.
God, how I’ve missed your pretty eyes.
By the way, did you know that I—
“WAKE THE FUCK UP, KYLE!”
Kyle stirs, blinking rapidly.
Brock’s panicked face, haggard, bags under his eyes, hair a mess, hovers over his own.
Kyle sits up at once, blinks away his sleep, looks around. A boardroom of an office, small, a rectangular table pushed to the wall next to a stack of chairs, a dry erase board, one door.
“What … What happened?” hisses Kyle.
Brock, still in his t-shirt, shorts, and one slipper—the other must have gotten lost somewhere—breathes a sigh of relief. “I’d thought you fuckin’ died.”
“Obviously he didn’t, he was breathing the whole time.”
Kyle turns the other way and finds Elias seated on the floor right next to him, back against the wall, then realizes belatedly that his head must have been resting on Elias’s lap.
Elias offers a tired smile. “Hey, Kyle.”
“E-Elias!” Kyle turns completely to face him, on his knees, takes hold of Elias’s face and puts a kiss on his lips. He feels the warmth surge into his system like liquid gold. He can’t even be sure if it’s from his Reach, from Elias, or his own joy and relief at their reunion. “Elias, I’m so fucking glad to see you.”
Elias kisses him right back, fingers clawing into his shirt. “I sure missed that mouth. Damn, you’re a good kisser.”
“What happened?” asks Kyle. “I was on the roof with you, and … and I turned around and saw …”
Cool fingertips brushing against his face. Misty blue eyes.
Then that voice in his dream.
Except it wasn’t a dream. He hasn’t been capable of dreams for twenty-seven years. That was—
“Tristan.”
Elias’s grip on Kyle’s shirt eases. “Tristan?”
“Tristan,” Kyle repeats. “He’s … He’s alive.”
Brock stumbles toward him. “The fuck did you just say?”
Kyle stares off, as if trying to remember the face he saw just before everything went dark. “He put me out. He used his Lull on me. I saw him. And then I … I heard him. Just now. While I was asleep, I heard him speaking to me, through my mind …”
