Irisa felt it like a light, but noticeable, punch in the gut.

Reviving Dona came with a few drawbacks, mostly major drawbacks really, but this normally was a minor one—she would feel little sensations everyone and awhile. This time, it felt different somehow. Concerning. Like the pain was significant.

She thumbed at the call button. It had been a few months since Dona blew her way into Irisa’s world, ruined everything Irisa had worked for her entire life, then waltzed right back out taking Irisa’s car with her like they hadn’t had a true adventure together. Irisa would at least assume reviving someone would come with a few expectations for the future—one of those being that they would try to stick together through the resulting consequences.

One of those expectations had to include a general concern for each other. It had to.

She jabbed at the call button and held it up to her ear. It kept ringing and ringing until there was a cheery, robotic voice telling her to leave a message after the beep. “Call me, asshole. I know you just got hurt.” Irisa was about to cut off the message before she held it back up. “This is Irisa, by the way.” Then she really did shut it off.

Dona wouldn’t call back even on her best day. She couldn’t call back at all if she was hurt. There was no way to know if this had been the end or not until Dona inevitable got hurt again. That feeling did not sit well with Irisa, not at all.

Irisa scrolled down until she reached Elon. She didn’t question pressing the button this time.

She watched the equivalent of nothing outside her parent’s window—her window now technically—as she kept her finger busy running her fingers over the little vase of flowers someone had brought in earlier. She really should try to find her own place again soon. It felt like a good compromise to stay within her parent’s estate, though. After all, they had paid for nearly everything in her life lately. It was the only thing Irisa had to repay them—her time and presence.

Elon’s number rang until it reached voicemail too. Irisa shut it off and tried again.

It went to voicemail again, but, didn’t everyone believe in the magic number three?

This time, he appeared within the first ring.

“I thought that we called off all relationships last time we talked,” Elon growled.

No hello then, but it was just fine by Irisa. She could pretend to not care about small talk. “I want to know where Dona is.”

“Why do you think I know?”

“I would assume you would keep track of someone you revived—after all, what would happen if someone important found out you messed with the world’s order?”

“Helped,” Elon stressed. “I did not revive her. You did that yourself.”

“Well then, I guess you don’t care if I happen to tell your boss exactly what your involvement was.”

“I thought we promised not to blackmail each other.”

“We promised that we would mutually destroy each other if we did double-cross each other. However, there was no part of the deal that said we couldn’t reveal information as long as we accepted the consequences.” She said, “I believe I have much less to lose than you right now. I’ve heard you are really climbing up the cooperate ladder. What was it? Ever since Mitch was brutally murdered, you have been second in command?”

“Michael,” muttered Elon. He took a step closer. She made sure to square her shoulders and stretch out her neck to keep them on eyelevel with each other. His breath hit her face as he said, “I believe you still could go lower seeing as you live entirely on your parent’s credit. What would happen to you if you ended up being completely cut off?”

“I think we’ve established that they are willing to keep supporting me no matter what I do. After all, being outed as a murder, a necromancer, and a para all at once did not turn them away. What do you think you can do that will change their minds?”

Elon was close enough to touch now. “I forgot what a manipulative bitch you are.”

“Ouch, really hurtful coming from a spineless ex with an ax to grind.”

“You’re comebacks are such useless drivel. I hate every word that you think is worth saying.”

“Then why do you keep responding? And why do you keep coming closer?” Irisa kicked her foot forward to tap their toes together to punctuate her point.

Elon rocked back on the balls of his feet until he stumbled backwards. His arms crossed together in a clear sign of a pout. Irisa had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

“Why do you think she’s even alive?” Elon asked. “She should have decayed months ago—turned into something completely unrecognizable and unworthy of attention.”

“I can feel her sometimes.”

“Feel her? How?”

“Aches and pains mostly. Just now I felt something sharp and cold right around the area that I shot her.”

“Sharp and cold,” Elon echoed with a too slow shake of his head.

“What is it that you aren’t telling me?”

He took another step back. “Nothing. Memorizing these riveting details is all. If I happen to see your girl, I will tell you.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you know you are playing a dangerous game. I still am more powerful than you.”

It would be. It should be, but Elon was a push over in all senses of the word. He never could grow enough of a backbone to really be able to do anything. Reapers were generally like that from the couple of experiences she had with them. “I’ll take my chances. ”

“Is this all you wanted?”

“That almost sounded like you miss me. I’ll call you away from the pit sooner next time.”

“I don’t live in a pit.”

“Oh, Elon, the gaps in your knowledge will never cease to amaze me.”

He glared at her and then he disappeared.

Irisa looked out of the window only to see the flowers on her desk shrivel in front of her eyes. She plucked one up, letting it’s petals crackle and stem drip.

“Oh, Elon, you never could keep it in your pants could you?” she said out loud just in case he still lingered in the shadows of the room.

There was a moment that she wanted to crushed it and let the tiny bits fall out of her fingers—a perfect example of funeral confetti. But, instead, she pulled a bit of energy from the ring Elon had given her months ago and Irisa still refused to give back, their only connection that she refused to give up—just enough energy that he must have felt it tug on him. She channeled it into the flower until the withering brown turned back to plump white petals.