Taking Meara’s hand the woman led Arrin to the kitchen at the back of the house. She paused briefly to grab a box of wooden matches from a cupboard over the refrigerator before leading him through a door on the right that led to a narrow stairway going down into a windowless basement. After flicking on the switch to the single, bare lightbulb overhead, she pointed to a dim corner where the furnace was located and held out the matches.

It wasn’t long before Arrin had the furnace roaring to life, but once again a simple task had him dripping with sweat and out of breath. Worse, when he stood, his legs felt as if they were made of soft rubber. What kind of heinous illness had taken hold in him anyway?

“You should be warm in no time.”

He swiped his for...

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