"Clay? Clay, wake up!" Dr. Marshel's voice rang out, sharp with urgency. She shook him by the shoulder, then his head, and finally resorted to jostling the bed itself. When none of it worked, she sighed dramatically, muttering under her breath, and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, a cold splash of water hit Clay's face.
He jolted upright with a gasp, blinking rapidly. "What the—Mom! What was that for?"
Dr. Marshel stood with an empty glass in hand, smiling sweetly. "Rise and shine, buttercup."
Clay groaned, slumping back against the headboard. "Five more minutes... I feel like I got hit by a bus." His words slurred with exhaustion, his head flopping to one side.
She grabbed his arm, hauling him upright. "Nope. On your feet." She adjusted his back, straightening him as if he were a mannequin. "I can't keep doing this, you know. You're getting heavier, and I'm not as young as I used to be. Either you start losing some weight, or I'm hitting the gym."
Clay smirked, still groggy. "I'd pay to see you lifting, Mom."
She pinched his nose lightly, grinning. "Keep it up, and I'll bench press you. Now, go brush your teeth and get downstairs. Breakfast won't eat itself."
Their banter left him chuckling as she walked out, her presence a familiar comfort.
Clay shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face until he felt fully awake. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and slipped into his school clothes—a simple hoodie and jeans. Feeling playful, he slid down the stair rail and landed in the kitchen with a flourish.
"Morning, birthday boy," Dr. Marshel called from the stove, where she placed a plate of green eggs and ham on the table. The words "Happy Birthday" were written in ketchup across the plate.
Clay's face lit up. "No way! You made this for me?"
"Of course. Only the best for my little Clay."
"Thanks, Mom," he said, digging in immediately.
As he ate, he noticed her sitting across from him, still dressed in casual clothes instead of her usual hospital attire. "Wait... you're not going to work today?"
She smiled, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Not today. I'm taking the day off to celebrate you."
He grinned, his heart warmed by the gesture. She turned on the TV, flipping through channels absentmindedly until she landed on the news.
"...two officers found dead in the east side of Gravesville, identified as Max Steele and Dax Rogers. This comes amidst a rising wave of violence in the area, particularly at night. Authorities urge citizens to remain vigilant and avoid traveling alone after dark..."
Dr. Marshel's hand tightened around the remote as she listened, her knuckles white. Clay noticed her jaw clench before she accidentally switched the channel. Cartoon Network popped on, and an episode of Teen Titans Go! began playing.
She glanced at Clay, who had stopped eating to watch her. "Sorry," she said quickly, setting the remote down.
"I'm done," he announced, picking up his empty plate.
As he washed the dishes, Dr. Marshel broke the silence. "What do you think of the west side?"
Clay shrugged, his voice casual. "I heard it's a nice place. Jacob talks about it a lot. Says it's calm, peaceful—like nothing bad ever happens there."
"Heavenville," she said softly, almost to herself.
"Yeah," he said, rinsing the last plate. "Are you thinking about moving there?"
Her head snapped up. "What? No. Why would you think that?"
"I dunno," Clay said, turning to face her. "You've been asking me about it. And with everything going on lately, I figured you were thinking about quitting the hospital."
She shook her head firmly. "We're not moving anywhere. This is our home."
Clay nodded, sensing the conversation was over. "Okay, cool."
Dr. Marshel glanced at the clock. "Speaking of time, you're going to be late. Tony's probably waiting for you."
"Right." He grabbed his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder, and walked over to kiss her cheek. "See you later, Mom."
"Stay safe," she called after him as he headed out the back door.
Clay walked past a few streamers and balloons strewn about the backyard—evidence of her attempt to decorate for his birthday—before climbing over the fence to the road. Waiting there was Tony, leaning casually against the fence in a sports jacket and trainers, looking as relaxed as ever.
Clay grinned as he approached. "Aye, Tony!"
Tony held out a fist. "What's good, Clay?"
Clay and Tony walked side by side, the chatter between them light as they strolled toward school. The morning air was cool, the sky above a washed-out blue, streaked with hints of gray clouds. Cars rolled by on the street beside them, the hum of engines and occasional honking creating a steady rhythm. On the sidewalk across the road, groups of students biked or walked together, their laughter and conversations mingling with the noise of the city waking up.
Tony nudged Clay with his elbow. "Oh, by the way, my dad said to tell you happy birthday."
Clay grinned, glancing over at him. "The Sergeant? How's he doing up north?"
Tony shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "He's fine. Lots of paperwork now that he's a sergeant. You know how it is—less on the field, more behind a desk. He complains about it every time we talk."
Clay chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, I can imagine. Guy's always been about action."
"What about the Doc?" Tony asked, glancing at him. "She doing okay?"
"She's good," Clay replied, his tone casual but tinged with thoughtfulness. "She's been taking more breaks lately, though... I dunno, maybe just to recharge."
"Or maybe," Tony said, his voice softer, "she wants to spend more time with you."
Clay paused for a beat, his eyes flicking to the pavement ahead. "True, true," he said quietly, a small smile playing on his lips.
They walked in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of the morning filling the gap. A bird chirped from a power line overhead, and the faint chatter of students ahead carried back to them.
Tony broke the silence with a smirk. "So, you think Lora's coming along today?"
Clay tilted his head, glancing at him curiously. "Probably. Why?"
Tony's smirk slipped into a grimace. "She's probably with him."
"Him?" Clay asked, his tone innocent but laced with curiosity. "Who's 'him'?"
Tony rolled his eyes, his hands coming out of his pockets to gesture vaguely. "You know who I mean, Clay. Don't make me say it."
"Nope, I really don't," Clay said with mock sincerity, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. "There's a lot of 'him's around Lora, you know. Alex? Tom? Rex? The list goes on."
Tony groaned, his shoulders slumping. "It's Jacob, alright?"
"Ah, Jacob," Clay said, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Why didn't you just say her boyfriend instead of 'him'? What, jealous or something?"
Tony stopped in his tracks, throwing his head back with an exaggerated groan. "I- you-!" He crossed his arms, pouting dramatically. "You know what? I hope you have a terrible birthday party."
Clay laughed, clapping a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Aw, thanks for the compliment, buddy."
Their shared laughter filled the air as they continued walking. Neither of them noticed the two cloaked figures standing in the shadow of a tree near the edge of the sidewalk.
One figure was tall—towering at about 6'4"—and leaned slightly forward, drool pooling at the edges of its concealed face. The other was much shorter, barely 4 feet tall, and shifted uncomfortably to avoid the dripping saliva.
"Zepig, can you not?" the smaller figure said, annoyance coloring his voice.
Zepig didn't even glance at him, his focus locked on Clay and Tony as they walked away. His eyes gleamed with an eerie excitement, glinting like polished metal beneath his hood. "I can't help it, Lepig," he said, his voice a guttural growl. "Their souls… they're perfect."
"For what?" Lepig asked, already knowing the answer.
Zepig scratched his neck, revealing six black stripes etched into his skin—one of which was faint and slowly fading. "For my transformation. With their energy, I'll ascend to the fifth rank." His breathing quickened, his clawed fingers twitching at his sides. "And then, we'll finally be closer to freedom."
Lepig sighed, pulling his cloak tighter around him as if to shield himself from Zepig's hunger. "Just don't get sloppy. We can't afford to draw attention, especially not here."
Zepig chuckled darkly, his gaze still fixed on the boys. "Oh, I'll be careful… for now."
The two figures melted back into the shadows as Clay and Tony's laughter faded into the distance.