The first thing that Rex was aware of was the light. It was a painfully bright light, glaring above him, on the other side of his closed eyelids.

“Don’t go into the light, Rex!”

He remembered the voice, a frayed voice. A voice choking with tears.

“Rex! Rex! Don’t go into the light! Don’t leave me!”

The words swam inside his head.

“Rex...” he thought. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't put a face to it. “Rex... Who is this Rex? Who is the woman who’s crying? Who am I?”

He tried to remember, but his mind was moving so slowly, like wading through quicksand. His head hurt. He searched his memory for answers, but found it blank. All he could remember was darkness. And in the darkness he could remember that voice, so sweet, so scared. “Don’t leave me!” And the voice tugged at his heartstrings in ways he couldn’t understand.

“Who is she?” he wondered. “Where is she now? Where am I?”

There was no need to rake his brains for an answer. He opened his eyes and looked around. There was a bright white light above his head, hanging from a white ceiling. His gaze slid down over white walls. He was lying on a white bed. And there was a beautiful girl sitting on a white chair next to the bed, her eyes lowered over the pages of a book.

She had long black hair, tied back in a braid that reached to her waist. She wore a pale cream-colored dress that set off the rich brown of her skin. For a moment, he thought she had to be an angel. And the white room had to be heaven, or perhaps a waiting-room for the afterlife. Then he heard the beeping, and when he tried to move, he noticed the tubes and sensors tying him to the machines. A hospital. This had to be a hospital. But where were the other patients? Where were the other beds? He had no clear memory of his financial state, and no clear idea of how much a private room at a hospital might cost, but one thing was certain: he couldn’t afford this. His family couldn’t afford this.

His pulse quickened, and the beeping quickened in response. The angel lifted her eyes from the book and her face contorted with concern for a moment, then settled into a peaceful smile.

“You’re awake!” she said, putting away her book. “Are you uncomfortable? Do you need anything?”

She reached tentative hands to his face and pulled back the oxygen mask so he could speak. The scent inundated his nostrils in an instant. Fresh flowers and orange peel. He turned his head to find its source, and saw them on a white bedside table. They were an explosion of color in the white room: a bright bouquet of red and gold freesias in an earthen pot, and a small basket of fresh oranges.

“Oh,” the angel said, following his gaze. “Do the flowers bother you? Your boss brought them. We didn’t dare take them away.”

He tried in vain to remember his boss, his job, anything about his life.

“Oh, I must tell Grandma Fidel,” the angel said, flushed. “I’ll be a minute.”

She covered his face with the oxygen mask again and darted off, out of the room. Moments later, she returned with a tall young man and a stout older woman.

“Rex, you son-of-a-wolf!” the young man shouted. “You had us so scared!”

He was very obviously a werewolf, his wolf ears showing and wolf tail wagging. He looked vaguely familiar. Rex tried to remember, but the effort only made his headache worse. No memory came to mind, but a quick realization struck him: “Rex... That means I’m Rex.”

“Who are you?” he asked, pulling off the oxygen mask. He felt that trying to remember on his own wasn’t worth the headache.

“Come on now, Rex! Don’t play games! It’s me, Rolf, your brother. Don’t you remember me?”

“You’d better remember me,” the older woman said.

Her face was menacing, and Rex felt that not remembering her would lead to much more pain than the headache of trying to remember. An image of the old woman’s face elongating into a wolf’s head flashed through his mind. A memory. Finally.

“Grandma Fidel?” he asked.

“You’d better be certain, boy, or I’ll bite your head off!” the old woman said.

“He’s certain, he’s certain,” Rolf intervened.

“Well, the doctor did say that he might be confused,” Grandma Fidel said, nodding to herself. “He hurt his head after all. Though how something so empty could still get hurt, that’s beyond me.”

Rex closed his eyes again. This felt familiar. But if this was his life, he didn’t want to remember it.

“Hey, your girlfriend’s been checking up on you every day,” Rolf said, pointing at the flowers.

Grandma Fidel threw him an angry look.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” she scoffed. “Rex doesn’t have a girlfriend, he has a fiancée.”

“I do?” Rex asked. “I don’t remember —”

“You don’t have to remember, boy!” Grandma Fidel snapped. “You just have to listen.”

She grabbed the angel by her arm and pulled her closer to the bed.

“This is your fiancée,” she said, pushing the girl forward. “Good, respectable werewolf family, perfect breeding. You will marry her in three months. And we’d have started preparations sooner, but we weren’t sure you wouldn’t die on us.”

Rex stared at the angel, who was trembling, eyes brimming with tears. Grandma Fidel’s grip on her arm was already leaving purple marks.

“I’m sorry,” Rex said. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t even remember who I am.”

***

The doctor was not encouraging.

“We’ll have to run more tests, of course,” she said, examining Rex’s chart. “But the memory loss may be permanent.”

“Will he remember how to use the toilet, or do I have to potty-train him all over again?” Grandma Fidel asked grumpily.

“He does remember how to do basic things, things he does every day,” the doctor answered, while Rolf was snorting behind his grandmother. “Talking, using cutlery, and, yes, the toilet. He also remembers how to read and write, and other useful skills. But he does have amnesia, so familiar places and people might seem unfamiliar at first. In time, he might remember you, he might even remember what happened that night when he got hurt. But he might also never recover his memories. What he needs now is to rest well and to be surrounded by love and support.”

“When can we take him home?” Grandma Fidel asked brusquely.

“When can he go back to work?” Rolf asked.

“We need to keep him under observation for a few more days while we run more tests, make sure there’s no further damage to the brain,” the doctor said. “As I understand, his boss is giving him paid leave until he is fully recovered, so you needn’t worry about him returning to work, Mr. Fidel.”

Rolf smiled sheepishly.

“It’s just,” he said, “I think he’d have more love and support at work, that’s all.”

Grandma Fidel did not smack him in front of the doctor. But, out in the corridor, her face changed into the face of an enraged wolf.

“How dare you imply I don’t love my grandson?” she snapped at Rolf. “I love all of you pups, and I’ll rip you to shreds if you dare imply otherwise!”

Rolf put up his hands, ready to surrender.

“And Rex will be leaving that job as soon as he’s well enough to go to work,” Grandma Fidel went on. “I don’t like that job, and I don’t like that company. And I don’t want him working for vampires.”