***
HE RESURFACES IN his own body with a gasp.
Air comes crashing back into his lungs, and he's suddenly aware of his own body like a tumor, of something to be shed or cut off, something heavy and malignant. He's aware of the blood in his veins and his shifting organs, and the thud-thud of blood rushing to his head. He's aware of the sheer physicality of it all.
Things come back to him in fragments, in pieces he can't parse through. A boy, a sister, a magician and him. A house that wasn't a house. He can't remember his own name.
"Don't open your eyes," says someone, a voice he vaguely recognizes. "You look cuter this way."
He opens his eyes.
"Wow, rude."
The face hovering over his head looks like an angel's.
"Miss my face?" says the angel, only now, he's aware that it's not really an angel, but a boy.
He starts remembering names, people, places. He starts remembering where he is and who he is. The knowledge comes back to him reluctantly, interlocking like pieces in a puzzle.
"You're Francis," he says. "And I'm James—"
"—Bishop Hadley. Yes, we know. You have a big name and a big ego and blah, blah, blah, sit up."
Hadley sits up. He doesn't recall ever lying down before going into—he can't remember where he went either.
"Man, you look like shit," says Francis. "Cute, but still like shit."
"Shut up," says another voice, from behind Francis. "He just woke up. Let him breathe."
It's Victoria. They're the only three people in the room. David, Hassan, Shani, Benji, Jeanne—he can't see any of them.
"Where'd everybody go?" Hadley asks. "There were a lot more people here."
"They left," Vic says. "One person going in is enough, but two? It's bound to spin some heads."
Hadley has no idea what she's saying, but she looks pretty when she talks, so he nods, pretending to understand whatever she's just said.
"Where did I go, exactly?" he asks Vic.
It's Francis who answers. "Dave took you into limbo. That's what he calls it. Limbo." Francis snorts. "I call it the void. Because there's nothing in there."
Hadley looks down at his hands. They're shaking. He clenches his fists.
"There were a lot of things in there," says Hadley. "Not nothing."
"Really?" Vic asks. "What'd you see in there?"
"I saw shit. I don't know. I saw myself, I think? No. Yes. Absolutely, yes, I saw myself. And, uh, my parents, too. And Philippa and—" Hadley looks up from his hands. "Give me my phone, now."
Vic and Francis suddenly become unimportant. He's only thinking of Philippa, Philippa in gore, Philippa and her ruined and crimson shirt, Philippa, Philippa, Philippa—
"Isn't it in your pocket?"
"No. Shit. I don't know," he says. "My phone. I need it. Where's my phone?"
