Xal's POV
Tapping.
Xal heard a constant tapping sound as he regained consciousness, but it stopped. Something shifted beside him, and he maintained his act of being unconscious.
Cold, clammy fingers trembled against his skin before pressing somewhat firmly against the side of his neck. Then the person shook him a bit, calling his name, asking him to wake up. He recognized the voice as Kian's and realized that he must have gone through his belongings to know his name.
He sounded worried.
For a moment, Xal wanted to open his eyes and tell him that he was fine.
The light hum of the AC, the softness beneath his body, clearly, he was not on the street anymore.
Bright lights greeted him as he carefully, partially opened his eyes enough to take a peek. He was on a bed inside a hotel room.
All the threads he saw before were nowhere to be seen.
His guess was correct about the kidnapping attempt, but weirdly enough, his limbs were free.
What kind of kidnapping was this?
The dip in the mattress next to him disappeared, and he continued to feign unconsciousness solely for the purpose of assessing his physical condition before he escaped.
Something seemed to change when his mom called.
He could hear him pacing, muttering to himself, before a phone started ringing.
Getting kidnapped wasn't new to Xal, but this was a whole new level of care for a captive.
He slowly tightened his fists to assess the condition of his body.
Not weak anymore.
Slowly pried his eyes again to confirm that his vision was back to normal. The drugs must have settled down. He was not disoriented and could escape even now.
He peeked again. Back turned to him, one hand on his hip, the other clutching the phone to his ear, Kian was completely unguarded, and Xal decided to pretend he was unconscious for a bit longer.
This could be a part of human trafficking or something bigger; he needed to gather as much information as possible before escaping, so he could at least help the police to put an end to this.
"So the symptoms started two days ago?" Kian was asking someone through the call.
Why would a kidnapper ask for someone's symptoms? Was Xal supposed to believe that he truly was some kind of healer?
"Sounds like your son is another victim of Khem. That is not a normal spirit illness."
A victim? Not a patient? That was a peculiar selection of words. Could it be that someone was killing people, and Kian was aware? Then why is he a healer, not a police officer? Was he an undercover agent?
A cold shiver ran down his spine as he heard the next words coming out of him.
"Because it's still too early to have shriveled skin and black marks. Don't worry. I'll be there first thing in the morning."
Shriveled skin and black marks.
Shriveled skin and black marks.
Shriveled skin and black marks.
Shriveled skin and black marks.
Shriveled skin and black marks.
Shriveled skin and black marks.
Shriveled skin and black marks.
Not a normal illness.
What made it a normal illness? He needed to know.
For the first time in six years, he had met someone who seemed to know what those two symptoms meant.
He needed to know.
Xal opened his eyes fully and watched as Kian turned back to him, effectively startling him.