So he went along quietly. The management agreed not to press charges if he agreed not to sue. Papers were signed. The guards who escorted him out of the building were entirely professional.

Eric opens the door and throws his mail down on the kitchen table. He gets a beer from the fridge and finds his bottle of painkillers on the counter. He swallows two Vicodin with a chaser of Heineken, then sits down and does a quick inventory.

He’s unemployed. Again. He probably won’t get his last paycheck. He’s got no job and not much of a life. Kendall texted him to see if he was okay. He’d ignored it. She’s better off without him.

He could call his father. His dad would send a check without complaining too much. He’s still feeling guilty about skipping out on most of Eric’s childhood. But Eric never liked asking for his allowance.

He could hit up Danny for money, too. Danny has never once asked him to repay any of the loans over the years, because they both know they are not loans. Still, guilt and humiliation are their own kind of interest payments, and he doesn’t want to rack up any more.

He might not have a choice, though. The mail in front of him is nothing but bills.

Well, almost nothing.

He finds one envelope with a familiar return address and a cartoon Viking printed on it. He opens it and a thick, cream-colored card falls out.

OH MY GOD WE’RE BACK AGAIN…

ARE YOU READY TO PARTY WITH

THE MIDDLETON HIGH SCHOOL VIKINGS

20 YEAR REUNION!

GO VIKINGS!

For a second, he can’t believe it. It’s been twenty years. It feels like both an eternity and less than a week at the same time.

Then he sees the message on the other side.

IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN

Yeah, he figured that, thanks very much. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him what a sign means. He’s had plenty of experience with them. He’s being summoned.

Which means he wasn’t hallucinating.

Eric puts the card down. He takes a deep breath. And snaps his fingers.

A brilliant ball of lightning blooms into existence and floats above his hand, illuminating his whole apartment with a gentle blue glow.

His mouth drops open and he watches the ball shimmer before him for a full five seconds as it rotates slowly in the air.

That old familiar feeling, the power of the world locking into place, floods back into him, like it was never gone. He spent years chasing it, trying booze, pills, even heroin, until that stint in rehab. In the end, it hadn’t been that hard to kick all the normal, human addictions, because he’d already lost the greatest high anyone could ever know.

You can’t blame him for being skeptical before. He thought it was gone forever.