"Son of a bitch..." Valentina muttered, her knuckles white on the steering wheel as she swerved around a pothole the size of a toddler's wading pool. "I swear to God, the boomers in this town have a fucking death wish."

  Julian shivered in the passenger seat, a violent, full-body tremor that had nothing to do with the AC, which was blasting arctic air directly into his face. He pulled his damp hoodie tighter around himself, the cheap cotton doing little to ward off a cold that was coming from the inside. Val had slipped into a comfortable red tank top and black shorts back at the garage, tying her shoulder-length curly black hair up into a ponytail. But the chills had immediately wracked Julian minutes after he'd woken up.

  "You okay there, popsicle boy?" Valentina asked, her usual cocky grin replaced by a flicker of genuine concern. Her soft, round features were uncharacteristically twisted in concern.

  She glanced over at him, her dark eyes scanning his face. "You look like you just saw a ghost,"

  "Something like that," he rasped, his throat feeling like he'd swallowed a handful of sand. "Just... tired. And cold. So cold."

  He tried to laugh, but it came out as a wet, hacking cough. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, watching the blurry neon signs on the strip malls streak by.

  "It's like ninety degrees out," Valentina noted, not unkindly. "Geeze. You're in shock. Or your ghost is cold. Either way, you're a mess, huh?"

  She mercifully cranked the AC down a notch.

  "Thanks," he mumbled, closing his eyes. The world swam behind his eyelids, a nauseating kaleidoscope of color and light.

  He could still feel it. The echoes.

  The phantom vibrations of a place that wasn't a place.

  The hum of a dying sun. The metallic tang of the air.

  And the fear.

  Not a normal fear. Not the fear of a bully or a bad grade or even getting caught sneaking out.

  This was older. Primal. It was the fear of being gone.

  The terror of knowing that everything you are, everything you've ever been, could be... undone.

  "You're shaking," Valentina said, her voice a low, steady rumble against the hum of the engine. She was uncharacteristically quiet. No jokes. No jabs.

  "I'm fine," he lied.

  "Right. And I'm thinking of joining a nunnery," she shot back, her usual sarcasm returning, but it was gentle. A familiar jab. "Just breathe, Jules. In and out. Like we practiced after I ate those gas station chili dogs that one time."

  He managed a weak smile. That had been a bad day.

  The Civic, his pride and joy, rattled as she hit a patch of uneven asphalt.

  He’d bought it with his own money, saved up from two years of bussing tables and mowing lawns. It was freedom. It was his. And now, it felt flimsy. A tin can careening through a world he suddenly realized was made of tissue paper and razor blades.

  He looked over at Val. Her face was illuminated by the green glow of the dashboard, her profile sharp and focused. She drove like she fought: with a ballsy, slightly reckless confidence that was terrifying to witness but somehow always got the job done.

  "Thanks..." he said, the word coming out as a croak.

  "For what? Saving your ass from getting a parking ticket because you were too busy having an existential crisis to feed the meter?" she quipped, not taking her eyes off the road.

  "For this," he said, gesturing vaguely at the car, at the night, at everything. "For... For just... driving."

  Valentina was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel.

  "Yeah, well," she said finally, her voice softer. "You're a dumbass, but you're our dumbass. We're not going to leave you shivering in a gutter. Besides," she added, her smirk returning. "If I let you wander off, Alfie would never let me hear the end of it. She'd probably try to organize a search party and bake cookies for the rescue dogs. It's a whole thing."

  He managed a real laugh this time. It was small, but it was there.

  The silence that followed was different.

  Less heavy. More... familiar.

  "So," she said, her tone shifting. The playful jab was gone, replaced by a flat, hard-edged seriousness that made the air in the car feel thicker. "You want to tell me what the hell that was?"

  "What what was?" he asked, playing dumb. He knew exactly what she was talking about.

  "Don't 'what what was' me, Kwong," she snapped, her eyes flashing in the dim light. "That whole 'I'm the protector, hear me roar' speech you gave in the garage. The 'I'll find a way to stop you' routine."

  "I..."

  Julian was at a loss for words.

  She shook her head, a short, sharp, dismissive gesture. "It was a good speech. A little dramatic. Very you."

  Val took a sharp right turn, the tires squealing in protest.

  "But let me break it down for you, since your brain is currently marinating in whatever magical radiation you got dosed with," she said, her tone now completely devoid of humor.

  He knew what was coming, and he deserved it.

  "You see Maya fighting a monster. What do you do?"

  He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off.

  "Wrong. The correct answer is: nothing. You do nothing. You hide. You run. You call for help if you can. But you stay the hell out of the way."

  She slammed on the brakes at a red light, the lurch throwing him forward against his seatbelt.

  "Because the second you charge in with your little aluminum bat, the second you become the damsel in distress, you know what happens?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

  She turned to face him, her eyes boring into his.

  "Maya has to stop fighting the monster and drop everything to save your stupid ass."

  The words hit him like one of her left hooks. Val's curly hair was a fiery halo around her face in the dim light of the dashboard, and her eyes were burning with a cold fire.

  "I get it Jules. She used to be a crybaby. She used to trip over her own feet and get scared by thunderstorms. She's a mess," she said, her voice tight. "But she's not that person anymore. Not when she has to be."

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Julian sighed, a shudder wracking through him. "I know... Val."

  She shot him a look.

  "I'm... not trying to be a hero."

  "Then what are you trying to be? Dead?"

  He shook his head, struggling to find the words. "I just... I know she's strong now. I've seen it. But I also know what it's like. To watch someone you care about get hurt. And not be able to do anything. To just... stand there. I can't. I can't do that again. I'm sorry. I was an idiot."

  He looked out the window, at the dark, quiet houses they passed. "I know I messed up. I know I made things worse. I was just so scared for her. When I saw her get in that car with... with that girl... I just felt... this cold. I felt it in my bones. And I had to do something."

  The light turned green, and Valentina hit the gas, the engine of the Civic roaring in protest.

  "Yeah, I get you. You want to help her?" Val asked, her voice a low growl. "You really, truly want to keep us safe?"

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  "Then you stick to the script you dropped in the garage," she said, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. "You stay back. You watch. You're the guy on the outside. The one who calls for backup. The one who brings the... I don't know, the emergency nachos. The guy who can see the things we can't because we're too busy with the monster-of-the-week."

  She shook her head again.

  "I get it. Reimi's a walking parade of red flags. But charging into a rift with a baseball bat doesn't protect her, Jules. It just gets in the way. You probably don't remember much of what happened but..."

  Val paused, signaling a car to pass.

  "Alfie was carrying your unconscious, vomiting ass in an active barrier while we were all fighting. Depleting her mana instead of actively helping us. Linda was scanning the area trying to cover you while she was dragging you. Maya had to fight a monster way out of our league while she was also distracted and worried sick about you getting your soul erased. And let me tell you straight. If Reimi wasn't there, we were dead. All of us."

  Julian's stomach churned.

  "I..." he started, but the words caught in his throat. "I'm sorry."

  "Yeah, you are," she said, her tone softening just a fraction. "But 'sorry' doesn't un-erase a soul. And we got lucky tonight. So, you're going to listen to me. And you're going to listen good."

  She pulled up to the curb in front of his house, the engine idling.

  "You're going to go inside. You're going to take a hot shower. You're going to sleep for, like, a week. And then, you're going to wake up, and you're going to be the guy you promised to be back there. The guy who watches. The guy who waits. The guy who stays out of the way."

  Valentina looked at him, her gaze furrowed.

  "Because... that's how you really protect us, Jules."

  She looked over at him, her expression softening.

  "You were there for Alfie that winter when her parents were talking about moving her to a boarding school in Switzerland. And Linda, with her science fair project in seventh grade when her partner ditched her. You helped her build the stupid volcano."

  Julian's throat felt tight. He remembered the volcano. It had been a last-minute, caffeine-fueled disaster that had ended with them both covered in papier-maché and baking soda, but they'd gotten an honorable mention.

  "And you were there for me," she said, her voice a little softer. "When I got cut from JV soccer. You took me to that stupid wire fu movie and bought me a giant bag of Sour Patch Kids. You're a good guy, Jules. A dumbass, but a good guy. But this? This isn't your fight."

  He just nodded, the words sinking in, settling in the pit of his stomach like a stone.

  She was right. Of course, she was right.

  "Alright," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I get it. For what it's worth, I'm really sorry."

  "Good," she said. A small, tired smile touched her lips. "Now, lemme get out of your stupid rusty bucket before your mom mistakes me for a repo man."

  Val turned the ignition key, and the Civic's engine died with a final, shuddering gasp. The sudden silence was deafening.

  She watched him as he fumbled with the seat belt, his hands still shaking a little.

  She sighed, before smoothly opening the driver's side door, stepping out of the car. She took a deep breath of the humid night air. Then, she walked around, her shoes crunching on the asphalt, and opened the door for him. He barely managed to swing his legs out of the car.

  "Hey, Star Ruby, is it now?" he asked, looking up at her from the curb.

  "Yeah?"

  "Thanks for not letting me... you know... melt. Or whatever was happening."

  She snorted. "Don't mention it. Just... try to stay in one piece, would you?"

  She ruffled his hair, a rare, affectionate gesture that caught him completely off guard.

  "But hey, what about you? How are you going to get home?"

  "Eh. It's pretty nice out. Figured I'd jog home. I need the steps," she said with a shrug.

  Then, she leaned in and gave him a quick, awkward hug, her arm wrapping around his shoulders with two slaps. It was a familiar, comforting weight.

  "And please, for the love of god, don't pull that shit again," she murmured into his ear while slipping the keys back into his pockets. "Or I'll kick your ass myself. And I won't be as gentle as whatever we were fighting."

  She turned and started walking down the sidewalk, her hands shoved in her pockets.

  He watched her go, her ponytail swinging into the darkness.

  Then, she stopped. She turned back around.

  "Hey, Kwong," she called out.

  "Yeah?"

  "Next time you get a bad feeling... just text me. Okay? Don't go all Rambo. Text me. I'll handle it. Seriously. You know what we are now."

  And with that, she turned and disappeared into the night.

  Julian sat there for a long moment. He locked the car and stumbled up the walkway, fumbled with his keys, and pushed open the door.

  The house was dark and quiet tonight.

  For a moment, he just stood there, on the welcome mat that said 'Home Sweet Home' in faded, cheerful letters. The outside air was a thick, wet blanket, smelling of cut grass, asphalt, and the distant, metallic tang of the highway. It was the smell of summer. The smell of life.

  He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with it, trying to wash away the phantom scent of rust and void.

  He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The change was immediate.

  The muggy heat was gone, replaced by a dead, artificial cold that bit at his damp skin. The AC was roaring, a low, constant hum that seemed to suck all the warmth and life out of the house, leaving behind a perfectly preserved, chillingly quiet husk.

  His sneakers squeaked on the polished hardwood floor, the sound unnaturally loud.

  He dropped his keys on the hall table with a clatter.

  "Mom?" he called out, his voice sounding small and thin. "I'm home."

  No answer.

  He walked through the darkened dining room, past the table that was always set with placemats they never used, and into the living room.

  And there she was.

  His mother was sitting in her armchair with the faded floral print. One that she'd refused to throw away for a decade.

  She was a thin silhouette against the flickering blue light of the television, the sound muted, the images on the screen washing over her without her really seeing them.

  It was a home renovation show. A cheerful couple with perfect teeth was tearing down a wall, their silent laughter covered in joy.

  The only other light came from a single, small lamp on the end table, casting a weak, jaundiced glow over a stack of magazines and an empty teacup.

  She didn't turn. She didn't say a word. She didn't even seem to register that he'd come in.

  The house wasn't just cold. It was a mausoleum.

  "Mom?" he said again, a little louder this time.

  She slowly, almost reluctantly, turned her head. Her eyes, which used to sparkle with laughter and life, were dull and vacant. It was like looking at a stranger.

  "You're late," she said, her voice flat. Her gaze didn't quite meet his. It was focused on a point just over his shoulder.

  "Yeah. I was... out. With Maya's friends," he said.

  She nodded slowly, a faint gesture. Her once-silky black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and he could see the gray at her temples. A lot more than he remembered.

  "Hmm," she hummed, her attention already drifting back to the silent television. The cheerful couple on screen was now painting a wall a bright, optimistic yellow.

  "Did you have fun?"

  "It was... fine," he said. "I'm tired. I think I'm gonna head to bed."

  Another slow nod.

  "Okay," she said.

  And that was it.

  She turned her head back to the television, her attention recaptured by the silent, smiling people on the screen. The conversation was over.

  That was the entire conversation.

  He stood there, freezing. Not from the arctic blast of the AC, but from the cold radiating from her.

  He had just stared into an abyss. He'd felt the touch of a reality that wanted to unmake him, a force of pure entropy that had left his soul feeling like a frayed rope.

  He'd faced down a mysterious girl who radiated violence, who looked at him with eyes that held the chilling emptiness of a dead star.

  But looking at his mother. Even with the suitcase and tie no longer in the picture, the rot was still there. A quiet, slow-moving decay that had been eating her away for years.

  This was the monster he knew.

  He backed out of the room, a silent retreat, leaving her to her show.

  He walked up the stairs, each footstep a dull thud in the suffocating silence of the house. He shut the door to his room, flicking on the light.

  Julian looked in the mirror. His skin was pale, almost gray, with a faint, bluish tinge around his lips and eyes. His hair was damp and matted with sweat, and there were dark, bruised-looking circles under his eyes.

  He looked like he'd been dragged through a knothole backwards. It would have been obvious to anyone that he was a mess.

  A complete and total wreck.

  He peeled off the damp hoodie and the t-shirt underneath, tossing them onto the floor. He stared at his reflection, at the faint, almost invisible silver lines on his skin that he could only see when he held his arm at just the right angle.

  He remembered Reimi's words.

  "You're a liability."

  He remembered Val's.

  "You'll get in the way."

  He thought of Maya, her face streaked with tears and dirt, her eyes burning with a fury he'd never seen before. All because of him. Because he was a reckless fucking moron.

  He sighed.

  "I'm... just fucking dirt, aren't I?"

  He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror.

  He was tired.

  So tired.