“Who’s Laylen?” I asked.

Alex motioned at the L-shaped couch. “Go sit down so I can look at that.”

I shook my head, my hand still grasping at my wounded side. “Not until you tell me where we are? And how in the world we got here? And—”

Alex cut me off.  “I really don’t think that’s the most important thing right now, considering you have a piece of glass sticking out of your rib.”

He had a point, I guess, but I deserved some answers. “Fine. I’ll go sit down. But I’m not going to drop this. You are going to tell me what’s going on.”

He studied me with a curious expression. “You know, you’re nothing like what I thought you’d be.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I said hotly. “You always say things that make no sense at all.”

He sighed. “Just go sit down and I’ll try and explain things the best that I can.”

I was stunned. Had I actually won the argument? “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “But hurry up. You’re bleeding all over the floor.”

After settling on the couch, I let my questions pour out of me. “Okay, so how did we get here?  And what were those things back there? Those...Death Walkers? And how do you know about them? And how do you know Sophia, because I could tell by the way you two were talking that…”  The way Alex was staring at me made me trail off. He looked totally baffled.

“Are you going to give me a chance to talk?” he asked. “Or do you want to just keep going?”

I bit my bottom lip. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

He pressed his lips together and stared off into empty space. “Take off your coat.”

I blinked. “What?”

He met my eyes. “In order for me to get the glass out, you have to take off your coat.”

“Oh.” For some stupid reason, I suddenly thought about the kissed we’d shared right before all hell had broken loose. It could barely be considered a kiss, really soft and brief like the touch of a butterfly’s wing. Still, I could almost feel the lingering sparkle of electricity where his lips had brushed against mine.

I carefully eased my coat off, wincing as the glass shifted.

Alex took off his gloves and coat and pushed up the sleeves of his long-sleeved black thermal shirt. Then he reached for me.

“What are you doing?” My muscles tensed as I leaned away from him.

He pointed to my side. “Looking at that.”

“Oh.” I said stupidly. I took a deep breath and held as still as I could.

He lifted the edge of my shirt up just enough so he could see the piece of glass sticking out of my blood-covered skin.  He examined it, gently tracing a circle around the cut with his finger.

I held my breath, trying to hold in the gasp that desperately wanted to escape my lips. It would end up being the good kind of gasp—the kind of gasp that might get him thinking I was okay with everything. And I wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he moved his hand away. His face looked dead serious. Worried even. It made me anxious.

“Is it bad?” I asked in a high-pitched voice.

His mouth curved into a grin.  “No, it’s not that bad at all. The piece of glass is small, and you’re barely bleeding anymore. I should be able to get it out and stitched it up without any problems.” He rested back against the couch and glanced at the door. “Just as soon as Aislin gets here.”

I tugged down the corner of my shirt and frowned. “That wasn’t funny. You had me thinking I was seriously hurt or something.”

He laughed. “Actually, it kind of was.”

I glowered at him. “Do you even know how to do stitches?”

“What, don’t you trust me?”

I chose not to answer that. “How about you answer some of my questions?”

He frowned. “I’d rather not.”

“But you said you would,” I protested. “I mean, is it really that bad that you can’t tell me”

“Yes,” he said.

A shiver crawled up my spine. “Well, I still want to know.”

He locked eyes with me. “Are you sure about that?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. Good or not, I wanted to know.

“Fine.” He waved his hand. “Go head. Ask your questions.”

“Okay…” My mind suddenly seemed blanked. “Um…where are we?”

“Laylen’s. He’s a friend of Aislin’s and mine.” He drew back the curtain that was behind us. “He lives in the Nevada desert.”

If it wouldn’t have been for the sunlight, lighting up the sky, and the golden-brown sand, dusted with cacti, that stretched as far as my eye could see, I wouldn’t have believed him. But there it was, right outside the window. There was no denying it. We were in the desert.

“How—” I stammered. “I mean—how?”

He let go of the curtain. “That’s where all of this becomes confusing.”

“Becomes confusing? It’s already been confusing for quite awhile.”

“Has it?” he muttered.

I wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question or not, so I didn’t answer. “So…how exactly did we get to Nevada in just a split second’s time?”

He hesitated. “Aislin transported us here.”

“Transported,” I said very slowly like the word was foreign. But the way he’d used it was foreign. “I remember hearing you guys say that word back on the bus, but what does it mean exactly?”

He hesitated again. “It’s a form of magic.”

I couldn’t help it. A burst of laughter escaped my lips. “Are you being serious? Because, just so you know, magic isn’t real.”

“It isn’t, huh?” He gestured around the room. “Then how do you explain this?”

I shrugged. “A delusion brought on by the trauma of those things—those Death Walkers things trying to kill me.”

He stared at me, astounded. “So, let me get this straight. What you’re trying to say is that you believe in something like the Death Walkers who, by the way, are demons, but you don’t believe in magic.”

“Umm….” Okay, so he had a point, but still, it felt like I was just going insane. It was all just too strange—too straight-out-of-a-sci-fi-novel strange. “I don’t know what I believe in.”

“Well, if you can’t believe in something as simple as magic, then there’s no point in me even trying to explain the rest of it. Because, out of everything, magic is probably the sanest sounding thing of all.”

I thought about what he was saying for a moment, but still…he was trying to convince me that magic was real.  “So what you’re trying to say is that Aislin’s a witch?”

He nodded. “But by your sarcastic tone, I’m guessing you’re still not buying it.”

“I’m trying.” I really was. “But it’s kind of hard to accept something that sounds so…crazy.”

He eyed me over, causing my skin to electrify. “So tell me this. How can you accept the feeling that I know you’re feeling right now, but you can’t accept that Aislin’s a witch? Because on a crazy level, they’re both about the same.”

“What feeling?” I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

Before I could stop him, he rested his hand on my cheek. Electricity sung through my blood veins, and under no control of my own, I let out a gasp.

“That feeling,” he whispered, the palm of his hand still cupping my cheek.

Growing up with Marco and Sophia—the two most unaffectionate people ever—I’d never come close to even getting a pat on the back. So him touching me like that felt very strange. Yet somehow, at the same time, it felt very familiar.

He dropped his hand, and we both just sat there, staring at one another.

“Okay,” I finally said, breaking the silence. “I believe you so you can go on.”

He forced a fake smile. “Can I?”

“Yeah, you can.”

He shook his head, looking like he was trying hard not to smile, then he turned to face me. “Look, I’ve broken a lot of rules here.”

I tilted my head to the side, confused. “What rules?”

“Nothing. Never mind,” he said quickly. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair “God, how the heck am I supposed to explain to you how important you are?”

“How important I am?” I gave him a doubtful look. “Trust me, there’s nothing important about me. At all.”