INTERLUDE

In a darkened room a brown-haired boy laid awake on a bed, the cracks of sunbeams from behind the curtains shining over him. He felt like he'd been sleeping for several days straight and felt like he could continue to do so for several days more. However, he was hungry, and he hated having to make Mrs. Valasquez wait on him. He knew he was supposed to conserve his strength, but he figured that he had to so something to change his situation.

It wasn't that he didn't like being babied so much by the childless widow who was still quite beautiful in her early forties. No, Mrs. Valasquez was like the mother he never had -- or at least remembered -- and he found strength in her smiles and the way she ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead whenever she left him to sleep. She was also very trustworthy, he knew, and she would stand by his wishes not to bring any of the authorities into his situation. He would recover soon enough, and then he and his friend Mason would figure out what to do next.

He owed his life to the heroic Mason Templar, a man of archaic tastes who had rescued him from the clutches of a demonic cult seeking to tap into his innate power. It wasn't the first time he had been used as a pawn, but he was determined it would be the last. He was a survivor.

The dark-haired, pale-skinned boy slowly turned over onto his stomach by the edge of the bed and rolled off until his feet touched the ground. Steadying himself, he slowly stood up, careful to keep a firm grasp of the bed as his head inevitably began to spin. He groaned as the moment passed and headed for the door, which was open just a few centimetres wide.

He was still in the pajamas Mrs. Valasquez had picked up for him at the Puerta Mibela marketplace, but he felt very cold and began to shiver. His bare feet were especially cold on the hardwood floor as he walked towards the stairs and grabbed onto the railing, slowly making his way almost soundlessly downstairs.

Mrs. Valasquez, a bronze-skinned, short and slender woman who was still very beautiful in her forties, and had raven-black wavy hair tied up in a bun, hummed ABBA's Fernando to herself as she stirred a pot full of cake mixture with a wooden spoon. She wore a melancholic expression on her face as she was lost deep in thought. The boy then reached the last step and entered the kitchen.

"Absalom!" Mrs. Valasquez exclaimed with a note of mixed surprise and pride. "Why, you're walking all by yourself again! Praise the Lord!"

Absalom managed a weak smile and said, "Yeah, I thought I'd go for a hike today. Heh. Maybe even go down to the beach."

Mrs. Valasquez took that as a joke and laughed, saying, "You'll do no such thing just yet, muchacho, but at this rate you'll be scaling the mountain all by yourself! What can I get you to eat, sweetie?" The expression on her face suddenly changed to shock as she glanced at the floor, dropping her bowl and wooden spoon in the process. She muttered, "Madre de Dios..." under her breath.

Absalom sat down at the table and took a deep breath to keep from hyperventilating and looked at the woman with a concerned expression. "What's wrong, ma'am?"

Mrs. Valasquez found herself speechless for a moment, then replied in a strange voice, "Oh, c-clumsy me!" She bent over and began cleaning up the mess.

Did I just see what I thought I saw? she thought to herself as she wiped up the raw cake mixture with a paper towel. Was it just my imagination, or was that boy really hovering an inch off the ground?

END INTERLUDE