Lurching across the floor for the door in a haze of blurry white shapes where the furniture had been, I cried "Hexus!" and shoved energy out through my bleeding palm, smacking the door's electric card reader with a quick and dirty blast of no workies mojo.

I closed my eyes, and tried to recall the linking spell I'd first used with Elaine. I nearly went sprawling as I swayed in place where I knelt on the ruined motel carpet, my desperate mouth gaping like a fish as I focused roughly a third of my brainpower on my oxygen requirement. Then I gathered my fraying will...

"Charity," I sent, my eyes leaking tears at the effort. Could I find her? Was it even her outside the door? Would they ever start making Twinkies again?

"... What? Harry? What is it? How are you doing this?"

In the wake of that unhelpful deluge, I had the strangest sensation of groceries being dropped.

"Charity," I sent numbly, staring down at my blood-covered hand and the spreading puddle beneath me on the tan carpeting, "um, um... sorry. Lemmee... lemme try again. See there's... oh this is funny... there's a... there's a Black Pudding on my bed, and I have a leak."

"What are you talking about, Harry? Did you have an accident in your sleep? I'll call the front desk."

"Christ, Charity! I'm... making red all over the floor and you want me... want me to itemize? I am NOT slowly dying of exsang... um, exsangui... blood loss on a crap motel carpet with... with the world thinking I caught Dysentery on the Oregon Trail! Ooh, the floorshreallywet..."

"!"

The front door turned on its side like a capsizing ship, and my left hand clenched. Then that hand, arm and shoulder all went numb. I was bleeding out. Very slowly. From my hand. Deadpool would have whipped out a camera and taken a selfie.