Taken

“But it’s hard,” Anne said. “When I heal someone else, some of the energy comes from me and some comes from them. When I heal myself I can’t . . .” She trailed off.

I stared at her for a second, and then it clicked. “Was that what you did to me? You took energy from my body and used it to keep yourself alive?”

Anne nodded again. She didn’t meet my eyes.

Well, that explained why I felt so terrible. I’d never been life-drained before and I shivered a little as I remembered the feeling. Having the strength drained out of every part of your body at once is a uniquely nasty experience.

Anne still had her eyes downcast, and I realised suddenly that she felt ashamed. “Ah, relax,” I said. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Anne looked up in surprise. “You’re not . . . ?”

“Well, I feel like crap,” I said. “But all in all, I’d rather feel like crap than have you dead. Be a bit of a waste after I went to all that effort. Just try and take a bit less next time, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Anne said again. “I was—”

“I’m kidding,” I said. “And you can stop worrying, I’m not going to report you to the Council.”

I saw Anne relax a bit. Life-draining is outlawed by the Council—it’s too close to the forbidden technique of Harvesting—and in her position she’d be in serious trouble if accused. “Thank you.”

“So I’m guessing this is why I’m so hungry?”

Anne nodded. “Your body stores short-term and long-term energy. I . . . took most of it. You’ve been burning body fat all night.” Anne hesitated. “You, um, might find you’re a bit lighter.”

I lifted the covers and looked down at myself. “Huh. You know, you could make a lot of money in the weight-loss business.”

“Everyone says that.” Anne sounded faintly exasperated. “You’re supposed to have some fat.”

I noticed with mild surprise that I’d eaten the last two bowls of oatmeal without realising it. “You can read bodies, right?”

Anne nodded.

“How am I doing?”

“You’re fine,” Anne said at once. “You’ll need to eat about three times as much as normal for a while but your body will tell you that. Just be careful for a day or two while your energy reserves build up again. But you could get up now if you wanted.”

I suited the action to the word. My legs felt a little wobbly and there was a lingering weakness in my limbs, but I was feeling better and managed to stay on my feet. My phone was on the table, and looking at it I saw that it was past ten. “Ah hell,” I said as I remembered my appointment with Sonder. “I’m supposed to be somewhere.”

“Wait!” Anne said in alarm. “You can’t use a gate stone already. You need to—”

“I’m all right,” I said. “I just need to make a call.”

*  *  *

Once I was in the corridor and out of sight I took out my phone and saw that I had four missed calls. As I did, I saw that my hand was shaking. I leant against the wall and closed my eyes. It wasn’t the physical drain that was getting to me, not really. I’ve been hurt before and I’m used to it. It was the memory of last night.

Killing with a knife is much more personal than with a gun. A gun is detached, clinical. Aim, squeeze the trigger, see the puff of red. Even looking down at the body afterwards it doesn’t really feel like you did it. A knife is different. You feel the impact as the blade goes in, the warmth of the blood on your hands, the struggles of the man you’re holding. It’s harder to shut out.

I didn’t try. Instead I ran through the events of last night, deliberately replaying the battle in the flat step by step. One after another I thought about the choices I could have taken and the other ways the battle could have ended. I thought about the men killing Anne or killing me and compared that to my memory of stabbing the man in the back. If I had to do it all over again, would I make the same choice?

Yes. I would. As I decided that, the memory loosened a little. It wasn’t any easier, but facing it, understanding it, made it bearable. I stayed there for another few minutes, then once I was calm again I tapped a stored number on my phone.

The phone rang once and was picked up on the second ring. “Alex?”

It was Luna’s voice, anxious and hopeful, and hearing it pulled me the rest of the way back to the world of the living. Suddenly I was awake again. “It’s me.”

“You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I heard Luna sigh in relief. “It’s him, he’s okay,” she called to someone else, then came back to the receiver. “Where have you been?”

“Long story.”

“I called last night and I thought you were just asleep. Then I met Sonder this morning and he hadn’t heard anything either! We’ve been worried sick.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I got held up.”

“Don’t scare me like that. I was afraid you’d been kidnapped again or something.”

“No, I—Wait, what do you mean ‘again’?”

“You know, like with Morden.”

“That happened once.”

“And the time with Belthas.”

“I got caught that time because I was going after you.”

“No you weren’t. Anyway, what about—”

There was the sound of someone else clearing their throat. “Oh, right,” Luna said. “Where are you?”

“Wales.”

“Wales?”

“Wales.”