I may not always know what's right, but I know I want you here tonight.

Continued on from
version xiv switchover plots, part eight, section one.
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Something soft batted Mallos’ nose lightly. He could feel whatever it was hovering an inch from his face, apparently hesitant.

For a moment, he didn’t open his eyes. This must be how mortal warriors felt at the end of a battle. His muscles ached where they’d stood rigid, his skin tingled, his limbs felt weighed down. If he stayed here much longer, he’d sink into the earth. His mind was numb and the block of ice in his stomach still hadn’t melted it. It would be nice if that ice did melt, since he was sure his mouth had never been this dry before.

He should probably get up, or open his eyes, or something. Three… two… one -

The cat’s thin, black-furred face swam into view, ears pricked forward, blue eyes alight with worry. Sperantia’s eyes had already reminded Mallos of Aura. Her front left paw was off the ground, so close to his face that the fur moved as he breathed. She lowered it slowly back down to the floor.

“Mallos?” She asked, uncertain. Nervous, even.

He placed one hand on the floor on either side of him and pushed himself up onto all fours, preferring to stare at the ground instead of his familiar. His arms were shaking slightly. Images of what might have been minutes, hours, or days ago flashed before his mind: his grandson’s face, downturned with disappointment and then shaken with trauma; Nimueh’s white, trembling hands, stained with blood; a cabin by the sea, with a beautiful, pregnant woman…

Tentatively, Sperantia connected with his mind. She was gentle about sorting through the recent memories, a jumble of his and Arthur’s, but it still felt like digging needles into a raw wound. As Sperantia passed over the memory of the pregnant woman, Mallos latched firmly onto it and honed in on it, ignoring the other images. Her. He had to get to her. Arthur had said… he’d said…

Goodbye, my friend.

Sperantia winced. The icecube in Mallos’ stomach held firm, but he felt as if a fire had been lit from the outside, making his skin burn. He pressed his weight into the heels of his hands and pushed himself upwards onto his feet. He had to spread his feet apart and grab a nearby tree to stop himself from toppling back down again. Dimly, beyond his all-encompassing vision of the cabin by the sea, he was aware that the fuzzy world beyond was spinning. Sperantia eyed him.

“You tried to teleport too far.” Her voice was calm, reassuring, but there was an underlying wobble. “I felt it. I thought you were… well. I only got you to wake up because I gave you some of my energy.”

Mallos let go of the tree and focused on the image of the cabin, mustering up the dribble of energy Sperantia had spared him, converting it to magic. He was vaguely aware that she was watching from the edge of his mind and, with what little conscious thought he had, half-expected her to deride him for trying to teleport again. Instead, she gently nudged the image of the cabin to one side and replaced it with a visual of his home in Madrid, in exactly the same way Arthur had. Mallos shoved her aside a little forcefully, but she pushed the picture of the house back against his mind calmly and assertively.

‘Home is closer than Shaman.’ She pointed out. ‘There are hop loops at home. Go home, get a hop loop, go to Shaman. Save your energy.’

He realised, belatedly, that she was wrapped around his legs and purring. The sound jarred. Cats purr to express a range of emotions, including anger and comfort, but it is most commonly associated with happiness. How could anybody, anywhere, be happy right now?

Sperantia was wise to suggest he not push his luck by trying to teleport as far as Shaman; just getting to Earth nearly knocked him off his feet. He leant back against his desk, his breathing heavy, and ran his fingers through his hair. The scalp was damp with sweat. He stared at the floor, deliberately avoiding looking at the wall of happy drawings he’d done of his family, while Sperantia rummaged around in the lower drawers of the desk. After a moment, she landed on the top with a light thump and nudged his arm. At her feet was a bundle of hop-loops tied together with a cable tie and a scattering of little globs of blu tak. Sometimes, when he was hyperactive and unable to focus on work, Mallos siphoned excess energy off into the blu tak Sperantia put in his drawer to give his hands something to do. He reached out and grabbed one clumsily, accidentally knocking a few of the others onto the floor. The little burst of energy felt like a cold morning shower.

By the time he’d taken everything the blu tak had to offer, his limbs felt a little less heavy and his vision had slid back into focus, although the image of the cabin by the sea still refused to be shaken. He could barely see around it to identify the concerned look on Sperantia’s face.

“Come on, then.” She said in a voice which managed to be both grim and encouraging. “Let’s go get her.”

She picked up one of the hop loops with her teeth while Mallos reached for another, dimly noting that it was already programmed with a destination. Sperantia must have done that while he was absorbing the energy from the blu tak. He slipped the rest of the loops into his pocket, activated the one on his arm and the pair of them vanished once more.

Mallos
I've learned enough to know I'm never letting go