𝔸𝕧𝕒

Light peeks through the curtains as I slowly wake from sleep. My body aches and my stomach is in knots. Despite sleeping for hours, I feel more tired now than I did when I went to bed.

I stretch my arm out to find Zane, but instead I'm met with a cold, empty mattress.

Did Zane get up already?

He should've gone to bed later than me, so I expected him to sleep in today. The clock says it's only 7:30 am.

I hop out of bed and slip on a loose gray sweater and black leggings before heading downstairs. I follow soft sounds of movement to the kitchen, where I see a man's silhouette against the window light. As he turns around, I realize it's not Zane, but Morgan.

"Morning, Killer," he says, his voice hoarse and dry.

"What are you still doing here?" I ask. "Weren't you supposed to head home last night?"

"Yeah uh... after you went to bed, Kieran and I started watching a movie marathon and uh... well, about four beers and three dinosaur movies later, I ended up sleeping on the sofa."

"Oh, I guess that explains why you seem so tired."

"You seem pretty knackered yourself, love. Rough night?"

"Yeah um... not the best night's sleep I guess. Hey uh... have you seen Zane this morning?"

He furrows his brow and looks deep in thought for a moment.

"No. It's unlike him to leave you alone, isn't it?"

"I'm sure he's around here somewhere," I say, peeking out the window to see if he might be in the yard.

"Mmm... sorry, I don't think he is."

"What?" I say, my heart pounding harder as anxiety begins to build in my chest.

What does he mean by that? Where could he be if he's not here?

"If he were here I would be able to sense him."

"But you said that you can't tell the difference between his emotions and yours. Are you sure you're not just getting your wires crossed?"

"I'm sure. When he's around, I can sense his feelings for you. You're brilliant, but uh, I don't feel that way about you when he's not here. No offense."

The uneasy feeling in my stomach twists and expands.

Where is he? Did he get home safely last night?

"He came home last night, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he got some time after eleven... maybe midnight? Relax, Killer," he says, stepping toward me and giving me a reassuring pat on the back. "He probably just ran out to the corner shop."

"Yeah..."

I don't even believe myself as I say it. This isn't like Zane at all. He wouldn't just leave without leaving me a note or something.

It just feels wrong.

"You don't believe that," he says, shaking his head.

"Not really," I say with a sigh. "Something feels wrong."

He pinches his mouth into a narrow line and looks into my eyes.

"Trust that feeling," he says, his voice deep and monotone. "You have good instincts. If you say something is wrong, I believe you. But if I can't feel him... you still can."

He's right. If Zane's in trouble, I should be able to feel it.

I close my eyes and concentrate on any sensation that might be able to tell me what has happened to Zane.

I feel anxiety, pain, fear... I'm pretty sure those things are all my own.

"There," Morgan says. "I could feel him for a second."

"You can? How?" I ask, opening my eyes. "All I feel is my own anxiety."

"It's not all yours. Concentrate. What do you feel?"

I close my eyes again and take a deep breath in.

"Fear. And pain."

"Get specific," he says.

Fear—it's a deep fear, but it's...different. I feel... inadequate. It's a deep self-loathing. A fear of... myself?

Why would Zane feel that way?

"He's in trouble, he's scared," I say. "He's... sad. He's upset with himself. He fears himself. I don't understand."

I open my eyes to Morgan's concerned face.

"It sounds like whatever's happening with Zane isn't supernatural... it's personal. I'll wake up Kieran and we'll go find your boy."

In a few minutes, a reluctant and drowsy Kieran shambles into the room in a distressed band t-shirt and jeans. His hair is a tangled nest that he has just barely swept from his eyes.

"So... Morgan said something about Zane being missing and I guess we're going to find him or something? I'm gonna be honest I'm like... less than 12-percent awake right now. I'm not even entirely sure I'm not dreaming."

"Let's go," Morgan says, his entire demeanor shifting. When there's a task at hand, he becomes cold and focused.

We head out the door. The cool morning air hits me before I even realize I don't have any clue where to go.

"Where are we supposed to start?" I ask, turning to Morgan.

"This is up to you, Ava," he says. "You can feel him. But more importantly, you know him. You know how he thinks. He's afraid, he's in pain... where does he go?"

"I don't know!" I say with an exasperated sigh. "We've only been in England for a couple weeks. I don't know the area at all."

"But you know Zane. His car is here, so he didn't drive anywhere. Did he take the train? To Kami's, maybe?"

"No." I shake my head. "He doesn't like asking for help. He always tries to handle things on his own."

"When you guys broke up, he got really drunk and trashed his house," Kieran says. "I mean, obviously he's not home right now, but maybe he's getting drunk?"

"I doubt it," Morgan says. "If there's one thing I've learned about this guy, he'd never get wasted while he's concerned about Ava's safety."

"Ahh, good point."

I wrack my brain for any idea of where Zane could be.

When he's not destroying things... how does Zane deal with panic?

"Water," I say. "He's always dipping his feet in the pool. When we broke up... he fell asleep sitting like that."

"Okay," Kieran says, tapping at his phone for a moment. "According to the map, nearest water is a creek a bit that way. I don't see much else within walking distance, so we start there."

We walk a few minutes down a path through the nearby woods.

"Hey," Morgan says. "I'm picking him up. He's nearby."

I start walking faster until I'm jogging, then running until I spot a familiar silhouette beside the creek. Morgan and Kieran have stopped following, probably to give us space to talk.

I still don't know what has Zane so shaken.

"Zane," I call as I approach.

His head swivels around and I catch his defeated expression. His eyes are bloodshot and raw, his skin puffy and his cheeks damp with tears.

I run up to him and wrap my arms around him. He seems stunned by my sudden appearance, but lets out a sigh of relief and pulls me in.

"You had me so worried!" I say.

He blinks a few times before his gaze drops.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"What's going on? Why are you out here? Did something happen yesterday?"

"I..." He steps back and runs his fingers through his hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging in frustration.

"Talk to me," I say. "Don't hold out on me. What's up?"

"Really?" he asks, his expression turning slightly sour. "You want me to be open with you then? You first, eh? Want to tell me about the dreams you've been having?"

I freeze.

I knew this reckoning was coming, but I was hoping I could put it off for at least a few more months. Or, in a perfect world, forever. Yeah, forever would have been ideal.

"Zane... I... Okay." I take a deep breath in. "I was having dreams about... you—sort of. It wasn't really you, though. It was more like when Asmodeus pretended to be you. It's just... it's my brain's way of dealing with everything that happened, you know? It's my fears and anxiety. It's not reality and I know that, and you should know it too."

"It is reality. You know who I am. You know what I am. And your mind—rightfully so—is telling you to run. It's trying to protect you. From me."

I watch as tears spill over from his eyes and he tries to hold back a sob.

"No!" I say, holding his face in my palms. "Look at me. That is just not true. I love you and I am not afraid of you. Not one bit."

"You were screaming, begging me to stop in your sleep. Not Asmodeus, me!"

I feel his sorrow radiating through my bones. He's in so much pain, and it's my fault. I should have found a way to tell him. He never should have found out like this.

"Do you trust me?" I ask. He looks deep into my eyes as if I've asked him the most ridiculous question. "Do you?"

"Of course."

"Then I want you to listen to me and do what I say. No questions. Just trust me, okay?"

He nods, wiping a tear from his eye.

I take his hand in mine and I bring it up to my neck.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his eyes wide with concern.

"No questions, remember? Trust..."

He takes in a jagged breath and nods.

I wrap his fingers around my neck and resist when he tries to pull away. I place both of my hands over his, holding it in place.

"You can feel me through the bond. Close your eyes." He follows my instruction reluctantly. "Can you feel me?"

He nods.

"What do you feel?" I ask.

"Concern," he says. "You're worried."

"Am I afraid?"

"I don't- I don't know. I don't like this. I don't want to be... I d-"

"Your hand is around my neck. You're a million times stronger than me. We're in the middle of nowhere in the woods. You could kill me right now, couldn't you?"

"Don't say that," he says, tugging at his hand slightly. "I don't like this. Don't."

"Am I afraid?" I ask, our eyes locking.

"No." He looks down and another tear falls from his eyes.

"Dreams are just that, Zane. They're not reality. My reality is complete and utter faith in you. It always has been, and always will be. My subconscious can have a field day and come up with whatever worst-case scenario it can, but you—the real you—I will always trust with my life. You understand me?"

He reluctantly nods and chuckles slightly.

"You scolding me, love?" he asks with a smile.

"You bet I am. It's freezing cold and it's early and I just ran like half a mile. You're in big trouble and you owe me a pancake breakfast."