The world returned in shattered fragments, each one a little more agonizing than the last. My head pounded with a slow, relentless pulse, like I’d spent the night swallowing nails and fiberglass. My ribs felt splintered, skin scraped raw, each bruise throbbing in a relentless rhythm. It was still dark.
I lay there, blinking against the dimness, the air stale and thick, trying to piece together where I was and how I’d ended up helpless on the cold, unforgiving floor. The room was empty—too empty. Kane must have woken before me and left me here, bound to a metal beam bolted to the floor behind me. A practical touch of cruelty, perfectly in line with his style.
I twisted my wrists, the ropes biting deep, the fibers grinding against my skin, numbing my hands until they felt like dead weights. Each pull drained what little energy I had left. Pathetic. At least he left Frank. The jacket lay far out of reach, sprawled on a crate like a discarded hope, mocking me with the memory of freedom. He was worse for wear, torn and ragged, having taken the brunt of the force. Without him, I’d be dead tonight. But just as he could heal me, he needed me to heal him.
The silence broke—not with a crash, but a whisper, soft steps too light for human feet. I froze, tension coiling up my spine, twisting tighter with each shallow breath. Something was moving, slow and cautious, somewhere just out of sight. My breath hitched, panic flooding in as I strained my neck, forcing my head up despite the throbbing ache. If it was a demon, even a Lesser, I was done for.
The steps crept closer, almost hesitant, padding lightly over the floor. I held my breath, fighting the urge to close my eyes and wait for whatever horror was coming. And then, through the haze of dread, I saw him—Sarge. Scruffy and beautiful. His fur was tangled, one ear flopped over in its usual, ridiculous way, his eyes wide with a kind of wild concern. Relief hit me like a punch to the chest.
“Sarge!” My voice was raw. “You beautiful little mutt… what are you doing here?”
He tilted his head, his big, soulful eyes locking onto mine, his tongue lolling out slightly, panting as if to say, You did it again, didn’t you? You got yourself in a mess.
A bad idea surfaced. No, not just bad—stupid. Dangerous. Frank was going to hate it.
“Go get Frank,” I said, nodding at the jacket. Sarge blinked at me, head tilting to the other side as if to say, What? I jerked my head toward the jacket again, feeling desperation spike my voice. “Come on, boy. Go get Frank.”
Sarge whined, stepping closer, nudging my shoulder with his cold nose like he thought he could lift me himself. His breath was warm against my cheek, his eyes filled with a worry that twisted my insides. “I’d love to get up, buddy, really, but I can’t,” I said, voice softer. “I need Frank. Remember him? The cranky one... well, crankier.”
He looked at me, and I swear I saw it—a flicker of understanding in those eyes, a flash of recognition. Sarge was always more than just a dog. He was family, and right then, he seemed to know exactly how deep I was in. My throat tightened. “I don’t look too good, do I, boy? But I’m going to be okay.” My voice was a rasp, barely holding steady. “I just need you to help me. Can you do that? Can you fetch my jacket? Fetch Frank?” I gestured with my head and eyes.
He let out a low whine, his ears drooping for a moment before finally turning toward the jacket. Step by step, he padded over, pausing halfway to glance back at me, his eyes filled with that familiar loyalty. “That’s it… that’s a good boy,” I said. “Now… get Frank. Go on—you can do it.”
He moved closer, nose brushing against the fabric, his body tense. I held my breath, watching as he sniffed, hesitating, then leaning in deeper, his nose pressing into the jacket.
The air changed. It was subtle, but it shifted—like the moment before lightning hits, the air charged with something dangerous. Sarge froze, head tilted, his body trembling like he was trying to hear something from far away. I felt hope, tiny and fragile, blossom inside me.
I sent a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening.
Slowly, Frank began to move—reluctant, rippling like a resentful shadow, wrapping around Sarge like a spectral cloak. Sarge shivered under the weight of the darkness, his confidence seeming to melt away beneath the magic that engulfed him.
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“Frank?” I whispered, barely a breath.
Sarge let out a low, uncertain bark. His posture changed—awkward, almost human, each step shaky as he tried to adjust under Frank’s embrace. He made his way over to me, each movement a strange, disjointed dance, like a puppet on tangled strings.
He got close enough for me to lift my shoulder to him, and Frank slid off of Sarge—a liquid shadow, oozing away from him, and wrapping around me instead, sliding down over my arms to the ropes. His essence seeped between my skin and the bindings, the power surging through me raw and electric. But beneath it all, I felt Frank’s pain—each tendril of his form screaming exhaustion and strain. He was in rough shape. I knew that, without him, I’d be nothing but a lifeless corpse on this cold floor—instead of a living one. He’d carried me through hell, and now, he needed me just as much as I needed him.
The ropes didn’t just loosen—they snapped, shredded by Frank’s fading strength, and I fell forward, catching myself before I hit the ground, gasping as Sarge nosed against me, his loyalty a comfort in a chaotic world. “Good boy, Sarge. Such a good boy.” My voice broke as I petted him, my gratitude spilling over, beyond words, into a quiet bond that couldn’t be spoken.
And then, as if on cue, Frank’s voice echoed in my mind, seethed with all the disdain he could muster. Do you have any idea how demeaning that was? A dog, Jack. Really?
I almost laughed, the sound catching in my bruised ribs. “Frank!” I said aloud, half-giddy with relief. “It’s good to hear you again.”
Oh, is it? You’re welcome, sure. But listen, Jack—never again. To be inside the mind of this... creature. Do you have any idea what dogs think about? No? Well, I do now. And it is astoundingly impolite.
Sarge barked, almost in protest, his floppy ear twitching.
“Come on, Frank. He’s a good boy,” I said, my hand resting on Sarge’s scruffy head. I felt Frank’s lifeforce twine with mine, pulsing with that familiar hum. Even beat to hell as I was, I managed to send a little healing his way. Somehow, when we combined, it did more than just patch up the damage—it made us both sharper, stronger. We were like two broken pieces fitting together, each of us better than the sum of our busted parts.
You know you secretly love him, Frank. Sarge is a good boy, I thought.
Sarge barked, his tail wagging in a blur of pure happiness.
That’s odd, I mused. It’s almost as if he heard me.
Sarge barked again, more insistent this time.
That’s because he can, or rather, I can. And for some reason, we’re still connected.
Frank said dryly, irritation dripping from every word. Frank had never been connected to an animal before, and I knew there was no telling what might happen because of it.
When we… merged… I could hear his thoughts, and he could hear mine—like usual, Frank grumbled, the disdain clear. Ugh, I don’t know how, or why, but… it didn’t shut off afterward. I’m still connected, Jack. I can still hear him. And let me tell you, I don’t like it. Not one damn bit.
“Fascinating,” I said, my grin crooked as I looked at Sarge. “Is he saying anything to you now?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Well?”
He says… that he thinks he deserves a biscuit, Frank said, each word bristled with reluctance. Ugh, Jack. No. I refuse. I will not be your messenger. This is too much. Worse than that time you tried to have me dry-cleaned.
“You were getting very ripe, Frank.”
He used fabric softener, Frank snapped, his tone practically bleeding with indignation. Jack, we’ve been through war, together. But this… this is where I draw the line.
Sarge barked again and wagged his tail, as he nuzzled Frank’s sleeve.
I sighed, a smile creeping onto my face despite myself. “I think you deserve a whole bag of treats. Come on, let’s go find you some.” Sarge’s tail wagged like crazy as I reached over and ruffled his fur.
Frank made a noise that might’ve been a groan if shadows could groan.
“Alright, let’s get out of here,” I said, my voice dropping to a more serious note as I looked at the exit. We left the place together, stepping over the broken fragments of what Kane and Aylin had left behind, Sarge at my side, Frank draped around me like a cloak of living darkness. The air outside tasted like freedom—sharp, cold, and exactly what I needed.
The night was old, beat to hell, hanging on by a thread. I needed a shower, maybe a whole damn fire hose, and about a week’s worth of sleep.