"In your last interview, you mentioned how that abnormality in Disraeli's blood concluded she wasn't human. Since then, we have learned new information. Or more like seen it. Have you seen the leaked video I'm talking about yet?"

"Yes. About an hour ago. A friend of mine sent it to me as soon as it popped up on the internet." I recognized that voice. It was one that I had unexpectedly heard throughout these past three years. That tiny bit of interest it generated pulled me out of my sleep. Once again, they had Xavier Palacios seated in a television studio. I hoped he was getting paid for all the interviews he was doing. He radiated an air of refinement in his slacks and shirt. His brown hair had been combed over; usually, it was unruly. His expression was solemn. Yet, when the camera presented a closeup of his face, I could see the confusion written in his gaze. With my face pressed up against the couch's arm and the stench of battle still on me, I lacked the energy to achieve the same level of sophistication. My joints ached, though I doubted I had any energy to so much as move from the couch.

"We'll play it for the viewers," the interviewer stated.

The leaked video was from one camera installed in the bottom service corridor at the jail. It offered limited views of both sides of the hallway while I stood in the middle of the frame. The demons remained out of camera view throughout the video. As the video progressed, officers and their shields entered the frame, one tactical step at a time. When the first two rows of officers were within the camera frame, a burst of energy sent them flying backwards and me crumbling to my knees. The clip ended with the hallway door opening and me crawling through and out of the camera's view.

My mouth was parched.

Xavier and the interviewer remained silent for moments after the video. "There are some people commenting about magic existing and Disraeli having powers. They say that she is a witch, or a superhuman like those we've seen on television and in movies." My heart hammered against my chest. Magic? I wondered. For moments, I forgot how to breathe over the implications of that possibility.

"And I suppose they are going to make her into a supervillain and start presenting her in some silly costume," Xavier commented sarcastically.

"What do you think? You believed that there was something odd about her blood when you tested it," the interviewer confronted.

Xavier ran a hand through his hair. "It's possible, but—" Xavier shook his head, his hand moving to cover his mouth. "This is hard to wrap my mind around. This was the girl I asked to marry me. And she is a witch or something. Are there others or is something else amiss—like a new virus? And if she has powers... did she know about them while we were together?" The camera focused on a closeup of his face. Although he maintained a neutral expression, there was something in his eyes. I recognized it as the look Xavier got when he had a hypothesis he was trying to prove.

"Do you think she did?" the interviewer inquired.

Xavier hesitated. "It's hard to say. There was never any sign that she could do... these types of things. But then again, it seems as if she was keeping a lot from me, so who knows?"

"Have you confronted her about all these secrets?"

"No. I haven't spoken to her for years."

"Do you think she will try to reach out to you? See if you'd help her evade the law?"

Xavier snorted. "She knows better than that. She knows I would be on the phone with law enforcement the second I saw her." I glared at the television. The media really didn't know me if they thought I would run straight to an ex-boyfriend now that I was free.

"Where do you think she would have gone?"

"That is the question of the day, isn't it?" Xavier shrugged.

Behind me, the front door lock jiggled for a couple of seconds before being followed by the sounds of the door being pushed open. I shoved myself up from my reclining position to peek over the couch. My eyes told me no one was in the area, which meant that the strange invisible male had returned. I heard his footsteps migrate to the dining table. He sat down two coffees and a bag of fast food. At first, I was shocked. The presence of the coffee showed that I had slept through the entire night. A glance towards the windows confirmed morning sunlight was leaking through. "You look like shit," the man insulted without even a hello. His tone hadn't changed in our time apart.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"I feel like it," I grumbled.

"You couldn't have cleaned up a little? Last I checked, there's a fully equipped shower here."

"Why bother if you are just going to take me back to my cage again?"

"Change of plans. We're keeping to the original. Though, if you really want to go back into the cage, you could walk out of the front door, and I won't stop you. Can't say no one will put a bullet in your head once you walk around the city. But that's your risk, not mine." The food bag shifted and rustled. An item that appeared to be a burrito wrapped in foil and a plastic container of green salsa appeared on the tabletop. An iced coffee became a part of the set.

"We're still in Denver then." I questioned cautiously.

The man grunted in confirmation. "Are you going to eat or would you like a formal invitation?" he inquired snidely.

Mr. Grumpy Pants needs to drink his coffee, I thought. With a grunt of my own, I pushed myself up from the couch. My joints ached with the movement while my entire skeleton system protested it. There was a pounding against my forehead, which was accompanied by lightheadedness as I straightened. At least I could find some amusement in this. I felt like I had aged fifty years overnight. I eased into the chair gratefully. The man took the food bag and remaining coffee with him as he moved over to the kitchen island, as if he couldn't be bothered to sit down at the table and eat a meal with me. I bit my bottom lip against saying something about his rudeness.

I seized the coffee first. The label on the cup told me that the man had ordered me a caramel latte with five Splenda scoops. I paused, my mind racing over the possibility, wondering how the man had known what to order for me. A quick glance informed me the man had chosen a hot drink for himself. I shook my head at the possibility. The man had just ordered me whatever he had gotten. I distracted myself with those first sips of the latte, savoring the taste. It had been too long since I had consumed espresso. My eyes shut in bliss. After that, I seized the burrito, which had been filled with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and chicken.

"Will you at least tell me your name?" I questioned in between bites.

I felt the man's stare linger on me. "Why? I'm just going to drop you off with my superiors, and I want nothing else to do with you after that."

My upper lip twitched out of agitation. "Fine, I'll call you Fuckturd if I need to refer to you," I grumbled before snapping a bite off my burrito and chewing.

"It's Kyrian," the man growled.

I swallow the bite of food and followed it up with a swig of the coffee. "Why are you invisible?"

"That's information you don't need to know," he declared. I refrained from rolling my eyes. I didn't think he would tell me. The television was the only thing that kept us from sitting in festering silence. Xavier's segment had ended, and it progressed into other world news. Most of it was political and related to an organization that was meeting with all the world's political powerhouses. What was discussed in these meetings remained a mystery. Rumor had it that this organization was trying to unite all the world's resources to help the weak and poor. A valiant intent, yes, but even the broadcasters were concerned about why the organization operated in the shadows, and how it had enough power to convince the political leaders to discuss politics behind closed doors.

I chewed my food slowly, contemplative. This was not the first time I had heard of such an organization. Jay had followed his temptation and joined up with a similar one, if not the same one. He had left me to fend for myself and wonder where he was. Even though I had encouraged Jay to move on from me, his actual action felt like bittersweet betrayal.

The sound of foil crumbling came from the counter and distracted me from my thoughts. Kyrian threw his trash away and paused. "You done yet? It's time to go."

I glanced down at the burrito. The foil had kept it warm and delicious. "I'm still working on it," I grumbled.

"Do they teach you how to move at a snail's pace in jail?" Kyrian sneered.

"I don't even know why you fed me in the first place," I muttered. "Not like you care that much. Just let me starve." I took a bigger bite than before and tried to chew faster.

Kyrian walked over to the open space in between the small foyer and dining room table, where he paused. "We're going now."

I took another bite before extracting the remaining pieces of the burrito out of the foil. I proceeded to the kitchen, found the trash can to discard the foil and my now empty latte cup, and when I looked up again, I felt Kyrian next to my side, waiting. My instincts guessed that the means of transportation would not be one that I was accustomed to. "How?"

"We 'jump'. The technical word for it is ravel."

My eyes widened, and I was sure I was gaping. My hand hung at my side. "It is true, then. Magic! Unless this is just some advanced technology that hasn't been released to the public yet!"

"You just sent demons and men flying backwards," Kyrian pointed out wryly. "You know what this is."

I shook my head. "Yeah, in movies and TV shows. Is it safe?"

"I knew someone who had all his limbs detached during a ravel.” It sounded like Kyrian shrugged nonchalantly.

I sucked in a deep breath. "This is not helping my anxiety."

"I will not baby you. Figure out how to control it or you're on your own here." Kyrian offered his arm for me to take. I was forced to make a split-second decision. Before I had even made it cognitively, I grabbed his arm.