“Did you meditate?”
“Ha! No.”
August was sitting on the empty bunny cage again, his head hanging, shoulders slumped and melancholy. He had tried to go out again, to another seance, but he couldn’t muster the energy to escape me. His image was faint and flickering as we spoke.
“It’s funny, August, I drew the Five of Swords for you, but you can’t really self-destruct. I mean, you can hurt yourself, but you can’t be any more dead than you already are. I don't know how to read this one.” His shoulders slumped more and he groaned low and ghostly. I shivered. He hated not being able to travel, but not as much as he hated what he had to do to regain his energy. I suppose “self-destruct” doesn’t have to refer to physical destruction. August can deplete his energy, but he can’t destroy the core essence of his being. That will never be destroyed, it can only be moved to a different place, centered on a different energy than mine.
But for now, if he wants to regain his strength, August has to find some creature or person nearby and syphon their energy. Usually he lurks around the bird feeder out back, sucking sparrows of their will to fly. Then he’ll skulk around, watching the tiny birds stumbling through the grass like drunks, waiting for unsuspecting cats to go for the birds. It’s demoralizing for him, but that’s the price of a night of fun.