The speakers strained against the heavy bass and guitar riffs. All of Angel’s earlier efforts to clean were now completely wasted as people spilled drinks, and dropped ashes into the carpet. A glass broke in the kitchen to the raucous cries of surprise and laughter. Angel slouched into the cushions of the couch, nursing a joint. The life-force generated by the dancing, the laughing, the sexual tension, hung in the air but could not touch him. He buried himself deep inside the liquor and weed until he was swathed inside an energetic wad of cotton. Each thought came slow as cold molasses.

Timmy bounded up, grinning with a drink in hand and plopped into the empty seat beside Angel. “Very nice funeral you got here Grub.”

Angel exhaled smoke and passed him the joint. “Why are you here? You got your money.”

“I’m here for a good time,” said Timmy, gesturing to the mingling crowd. “Like all these other fine folk. Look man, I’m sorry about the other night.”

Angel glared at him. “You stabbed me, jackass.”

“I said I was sorry. You’re the one that wanted to fight if I recall, and if you’d just paid me when I asked nice, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Plus, look at ya, you’re fine. I knew you healed fast, but this must be some kind of record?”

Angel snatched the joint back from him. “Why were you telling everyone I was dead?”

“I thought you were. That was awful. Seriously, how do you not even have a scratch on you?”

Angel shrugged and passed the joint.

“You got clobbered into dust,” Timmy continued. “And Nyx -”

“Don’t talk about her,” he snapped.

“Geeze, ok, ok, snippy pants.” Timmy took a hit, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “She was looking for you earlier. Tried to shake me down for info but I’m a steal trap.”

You’d sell out your own mother for a nickel.

“You didn’t even know where I was,” said Angel.

“True enough,” he laughed and tried to pass the joint back to Angel.

“Keep it,” he said and got up.

“Where ya going?”

“Bed.”

“Alright weirdo, suit yourself. Good-night, sleep tight and all that.”

Angel ignored him and pushed his way through the crowd to the stairs to his bedroom, the only empty space in the house. The red guitar was still missing, left in the shed two nights ago, so he grabbed one of the brown acoustic ones from its stand and sat on the bed.

The familiar silk of the guitar’s glossed body, the tension of the strings under his calloused fingers brought comfort.

He sat with the guitar in his lap and played. Each pluck of the string vanquished a rogue thought, but Nyx found her way into every note regardless.

As he played, Angel became aware of the warm life-force that hovered in the air. It fought its way out of the haze as he generated it from within himself to join the existing invisible mist. It was in everything, everywhere all at once, delicate, like the gossamer threads of a spider web.

This power was more like an awareness of an already existing element. This new sensation simply was.

How could I miss such a powerful sensation for so long?

The energy had its own flow and rhythm. The beating of a heart or the rise and fall of the breath.

Angel sat with it. Not commanding, merely observing as he continued to strum. He marvelled at the waves of blue light surging as he played. The energy ebbed with the song, responding to his intensity until light trailed from him like fog, then surrounded him in a sphere, hovering at the boundary of his skin.

He consciously drew it into himself as he played, drinking it into his body like a fine wine until he no longer glowed. It made him almost delirious, adding to his already inebriated state.

If this tiny amount feels this good, it’ll probably feel even better sober.

When he stopped playing and put his guitar back, the sensation remained. His body had never been so light. It's not like he had much pain to complain about anyway aside from the usual aches from work. Even the hollow, empty pang in his chest, the constant gnawing anxiety had dissipated.

Every cell in his body vibrated.

I don’t think I can hide this forever.

He flopped back on his pillows.

No matter what I do, I find a way to make trouble.

The bedroom door clicked open. He was about to tell whoever it was to scram, but Alistair stepped in.

“Mind if I join ya?” he asked.

Angel scooched over so Alistair could plop down next to him. He stretched out his long legs and put his arms behind his head against the pillows.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“I talked to Nyx. You're gonna fix this, right?"

How much does he know?

Angel recalled the look of horror in her eyes, the way she cried against his chest, the hurt, the rage. His stomach dropped.

“I don’t think I can.”

"You gotta stop leading her on," said Alistair. "If you don't want a serious relationship, that's fine, but you gotta say so."

Tension squeezed Angel’s chest into a vice.

Either way I look at it, I'm gonna lose her. I'll fuck it all up somehow.

"That's not what I want either. I just - I dunno."

Alistair sighed. "Look, I try to keep out of it and I don't like to choose sides, but at the end of the day, she's my sister. It's pretty difficult to hear her cry and not be mad at you."

Angel's heart stung. The frustration and grief in Alistair’s eyes made him want to turn inside out.

"Everything is so much more complicated now."

"I think you're making it more complicated than it needs to be."

Angel sighed and picked the skin around the edges of his fingernails. He watched it heal again with tears blurring his eyes, glad Alistair couldn’t see in the dark as well as he could. He still hadn't wrapped his head around it.

"I really did die last night." The words tasted sour in his mouth.

It was only for a few minutes. Does it even still count?

"What do you mean you died?" Alistair sat straight up to face him.

"I fought Aluminum Carl and he kicked the absolute shit outta me.” As Angel spoke, the pain in his ribs recurred, sharp and vivid. "Nyx and Cass pulled me out of the ring and tried to take me to the clinic and... and I guess I died."

"You guess?" Alistair's eyes shone with horror.

"Nyx did the compression thingy and a bright light came... and then I was back completely healed like nothing happened. It seems to be the same power as -"

"Ivy," Alistair said, cutting him off. "Well shit. What are you gonna do?"

"What can I do? We gotta pretend it never happened so Ivy doesn't pitch a fit."

"Do you think she would?" He frowned. "I mean, loads of people have all kinds of dangerous powers out there, but so long as people use them responsibly, she doesn't seem to care."

"Nyx thinks she will.”

"If hiding your new ability is what you want to do, of course I'll keep your secret."

The urge to taste more of that power itched under Angel’s skin, nearly impossible to resist.

"Yes and no," Angel grumbled. "We don't know how Ivy will respond, but I was experimenting with it tonight. It's like this whole new world of sensation has opened up to me and I need to explore it. All of it."

"Careful Grub, you're not exactly good with moderation."

There can be no small licks, no such thing as just a taste. Not until I get a better hang of things.

Angel clenched his jaw. Ivy had sucked up thousands at once during the height of the war. Whole armies. The more she consumed, the more powerful she became. Her range expanded, as did the fear and awe she instilled in all of Gleodem.

His breath came in quick, rapid bursts and he scraped his fingernails into his jeans. The light flared whenever he closed his eyes.

Can I even die at all now? I don't want to ever go back there.

"Are you ok?" Alistair reached out. The sensation of his warm energy made Angel flinch away. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be.”

"This is a big deal Angel. You might not care if something happens to you, but I do. I was scared half to death. You scared everyone as a matter of fact, and poor Nyx -"

Angel shifted uncomfortably, but didn't know how to respond.

Alistair sighed. Angel's stomach churned with guilt.

Maybe I'll wake up and find this was all a bad dream.

"For the record, I'm glad you didn't die. When I heard, I was... I love you dude."

"Gross," Angel teased, though the lump in his throat made his voice catch.

"Don't be a turd," Alistair laughed. "So who else knows?"

"Only you guys."

“That’s probably for the best until we figure stuff out.” Alistair looked at him with a soft smile, gently punching his arm. “You’re going to be ok, alright?”

“If you say so, man.”

After a brief moment of silence, Alistair broke the tension. “Guess what? I found a girl.”

“About time,” Angel said, happy to change the topic. “What’s her name? Anyone I know?”

“No, it’s not like that." Alistair fiddled with his eyebrow ring in an attempt to hide his blush. “You definitely don’t know her. She’s from the mainland.”

“I know plenty of people on the mainland,” Angel protested.

“Jack and Caroline don’t count,” he said. “Her name is Kismet. She was lost, so I helped her.”

“You gotta quit being so chivalrous, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Angel teased.

“Hilarious. We can’t all be stoic cynics.”

“Blossom better watch out.”

Alistair sighed, hanging his head so his blond hair flopped into his eyes and he pushed it away. “That’s going nowhere anyway. She only sees me as Cass’ brother, if she notices me at all. Anyway, Kismet is just my friend.”

Sure. Tell yourself that. The speed of your heartbeat says otherwise my guy.

They laid together in the quiet, each staring up at the ceiling. The heady scent of approaching rain hung in the air, wafting in from the open window. The party raged on down stairs. The bass was still vibrating the wooden walls, nearly drowning out snippets of conversations melding together. At least he could no longer hear the zing of electricity or appliances anymore beneath it all.

With Alistair there beside him, it was as if they were children once again. On nights Angel needed to get away from home, he’d head straight for Alistair’s window. The screen had long since been discarded. He’d hover outside, straining his wings and slide it open. No matter what, Alistair would shift over and make space for him. Sometimes they’d stay up, talking for hours under the blankets as if that would muffle their voices, or hide the thin beams from their flashlights. Sometimes they’d read comics, talk until they were blue in the face, hiding giggles behind pressed hands, or say nothing at all.

Did I return to life only to ruin everything? I have to make things right with Nyx. I can’t risk losing them.

Eventually, Alistair rolled over and got up.

“I better get home,” he said, heading for the door.

The thick pang of impending loneliness struck Angel in the center of his chest. It quaked within him with budding panic.

“Can you stay?” he asked.

Alistair turned, letting go of the door knob. “Alright, move over, Grub.”

Angel shifted, scooching closer to the wall. Alistair hopped into bed and they both climbed under the blankets.

"No snoring," he said, playfully nudging Angel.

"I don't snore."

"Oh, yes you do. Don't think i won't kick you out of your own bed."

Anxiety sat like a stone at the center of Angel’s chest. If Ivy wanted to come for him, there was nothing Alistair, or anyone, could do about it. Regardless, he took comfort in the presence of his old friend. The throbbing noise of the ongoing party eventually lulled him to sleep.