I heard my mug hit the concrete and shatter. The female—the alben—was coming. I couldn’t move, but I could tell she was getting closer. The pain in my head didn’t stop. There was something that should have helped, but I couldn’t concentrate enough to remember what it was. Where is he? Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. With it came her anger, impatience, and something more—arousal? I was horrified. She must not have expected an answer. She’d certainly made it impossible for me to give her one. Fire crawled through my brain. There was something familiar about it, a nasty, prickling undertone that I’d felt before. From Pirian, when he spoke to me. The thought reminded me of what this alben had done to him, the mass of cuts on his chest. I was going to die, I realized.
