Page 71 of Avelina

I shrugged. “Which one do you want?”

“Protection,” he said immediately, “but I don’t think it will work. Protection can’t be absorbed, so it probably can’t be given.”

“We’ll see,” I said, rubbing my palms together.

“And,” he continued, closing his eyes for a second, “I’m not sure what you would see in there.”

“What do you mean?”

Ward spoke slowly, as if every word needed to be planned. “I’m not right in my head anymore, Lina. I came back . . . different.”

I stared at him, bewildered. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge. I’ll only try to help you. I promise.”

He wrinkled his nose again, then sighed. “Okay,” he said, though he looked like he wanted to run and hide.

“Good. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to do this, and I think it would be easier if you were facing away from me. Will you come lie on the bed?”

“Are you insane? What if Aaron walked in? Worst idea ever.”

“Fair point,” I said, “but I think it might be important for you to be comfortable. I won’t lie down with you, I’ll just sit next to you, holding your hand.”

Ward groaned. “Fine, but if Aaron kills me, I’m not coming back this time.”

“If Aaron tries to kill you, you’ll protect yourself because this is going to work,” I countered. “Come on, it’ll be just like old times. Except for the excruciating pain part.”

He pinched one side of his mouth. “That sounds exactly like old times,” he said. “Get out of the way.”

I got up, and he followed me to the bed. Luckily, he’d finally bathed. That was three days ago, but it was better than nothing. I stepped aside, letting him lie down. He sank into the oardoo-feather mattress and released a low groan.

“Oh, it is so not fair that you’ve been sleeping on this the whole time,” he said. “This is incredible.”

“See? This was a good idea. Face that way,” I said, pointing away from me. He turned on his side, and I sat on the bed behind him, leaning over him to take his hand. It was cool and clammy. “Ready?” I asked.

“I guess,” he mumbled. He sounded like he might fall asleep.

I didn’t immediately connect with him as I had with Aaron. Because of our mutual attraction, Aaron and I had entered into a superficial Connection link upon the first moment of contact despite our bilateral Protection reservoirs. Ward had only grudgingly agreed to connect with me, so I had to push my way past his reluctance in order to achieve even a faint whiff of Connection. I could feel his exhaustion, and I hesitated.

“Ward, I need you to actively let me in,” I said. “I won’t force myself on you.”

He didn’t respond for so long that I thought he must be asleep, but then he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally, he let me in. It felt like he drew a curtain aside so I could peer through a doorway that had previously only revealed shadows and silhouettes. The curtain stuck, but he managed to get it halfway open. I closed my eyes and tentatively quested out into the deeper Connection link.

In Ward’s mind, I saw a small house, little more than a shack. I knew I still sat on the bed, but it was as if I had been sucked into a dream with him, barely aware of my real body. I stood at the threshold of the house, peeking in. It was dark and smelled stale and smoky. It reminded me of how Jorin’s house smelled when we first arrived, combined with the smell of a campfire.

I heard the echo of a dog barking in the backyard. I couldn’t tell if that was from Ward’s mind or my own memory. It sounded frantic, just like the day of my accident.

Rogue, I thought. I miss you, my friend. Come home.

“I’m right here,” Ward said.

“Where?” I said, looking all around. I couldn’t see a damned thing. Behind me, where a street should have been, there was only emptiness, a vast void that would swallow me whole if I fell backward. I yelped, stepping hastily into the house. It felt so real. The boards creaked under my feet, and I felt a musty draft on my face. “What the hell? Where are we?” I asked.

“This was our home,” I heard him say, though he sounded far away. He was a disembodied voice that came from every direction, softly to my ears, yet a little too loudly in my mind.

“Whose home?” I asked.

“My brother and me,” he said, “and our mother.”

“Why is it so dark?” I asked. “Turn on a light.”

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