Knocking.
Lots of knocking on Balz’s bedroom door.
As his heavy lids lifted, he couldn’t figure out why in the hell someone was waking him up in the middle of the day. He was fucking sleeping.
“What,” he snapped.
At his kind invitation, the door opened and airmailed him a shaft of light from the hallway that was like getting rusty-spiked in the iris. With a hiss, he went classic Dracula, putting his forearm over his face and rearing back.
“How are you still in bed?”
Syphon, back again. Of course. The Mother Hen motherfucker was an alarm clock that ran on gluten-free organic smoothies, almond shakes, and organic porridge.
On that note, if only there was a bag of Doritos to throw at the guy.
Or anything that had Red Dye 40 or GMO shit on the ingredients list.
“Yes, I’m still in goddamn bed,” he shot back. “It’s almost one in the afternoon. The question is why you aren’t in—”
“It’s midnight.” When Balz didn’t respond, the bastard went hello. “Twelve a.m. Like, one dozen bongs from the grandfather clock out in the—”
“I can count.”
“Can you?”
Balz threw out a hand to his bedside table. Grabbing his Galaxy S21, he checked the time, ready to throw the hour back in his cousin’s face—
12:07 a.m.
Sitting up, he pushed his hair out of his face, even though he’d recently gotten it cut and there was nothing in his eyes. Sure enough, next to where his phone had been, there was that travel mug and the croissant that was still wrapped in a dish towel.
Jesus. He’d slept like he’d been punched in the head.
And no dreams of his female.
The lights overhead came on as Syphon flipped the switch, and then the fighter said the words every Brother and bastard dreaded like the second coming of the Omega.
“I’ve called Doc Jane.”
“What?” Balz tried not to scream. “Why? I’m perfectly fine—”
“You were electrocuted.”
Balz frowned because he couldn’t have heard that right. When his cuz merely stared back at him expectantly, like the bastard had just proved for a fact that pigs could fly, it was apparent that true logic was going to have to be spelled out.
Where were a whiteboard and a marker when you needed them?
“Back in December.” Balz indicated himself. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t glow in the dark.”
“And you think that means you’re fine.”
“I think it disqualifies me as a night-light. And being a patient of Doc Jane’s four months ago—”
“Did someone say my name?” The good doctor, and V’s shellan, poked her head around the doorjamb. “How we doing?”
“I slept in!”
Syphon rolled his eyes. “Until midnight? And actually, you missed two meetings, haven’t you—”
“Okay, okay.” Doc Jane made cool-it-boys motions with her hands. “How about I do a quick exam? If the vitals are good and there’s no fever or anything, we’ll call this case closed.”
“Great.” Balz glared at his cousin as he took off his t-shirt. “And listen, Doc, after you’re done certifying all my perfectly-fine, I’ll drop and do three hundred for this asshole, just so he’s sure I’m tight.”
Syphon nodded. “I’ll count ’em so you don’t have to.”