The voice in the sand had followed him back, shifting from Dora's sweet whisper, to Bat's easy drawl, to the low rumble of his brother Virgil. Howard and R. He ignored them. The pain, the throbbing, burning stab of it that arched along his spine with every step, a tether to reality.

He'd followed their siren call, and had paid the price. He would not fall for it again.

...But when Max's voice cracked against the rocks, that familiar roll of thunder....

What defense did he have against that?

His head lifted, a tendril of red rolling around his throat like a bloody tear from the bite in the back of his neck.