by Sadie Moss
Gwen looks up at me gratefully and then turns to focus on the button, staring it down like it’s a charging rhino.
“It’s going to take me a while,” she admits softly.
“That’s okay. I know you’ll get there. Take your time.”
My internal agitation spikes at the thought, but I’m careful not to let any inkling of it show on my face. Time is something that we don’t have, definitely, but it’s not going to help Gwen if I tell her that. I need her to feel confident and to not feel any pressure.
“Would you like us to give you some space?” I ask.
She nods.
“I’ll stay with her,” Aurora offers.
Brodie shakes his head, stepping forward. “No offense, ma’am, but I think she might be more comfortable with someone who’s Unpredictable like her, you know?”
Gwen nods gratefully. “I—I would. Thank you.”
“I’ll stay with you, don’t worry,” he says, reassuring Gwen with a smile.
He does look friendly and harmless, dressed more casually than Aurora—he’s in jeans and a t-shirt, with an open flannel button-down over it. And I don’t even have to ask to know that none of us are going to be allowed to stay with her without a Circuit official of some kind here as well.
Tamlin eyes Brodie, grudging respect warring with the suspicion in her eyes. “That’s… very kind of you.”
He shrugs. “Gotta do what’s right. I work for the Circuit because I want to change things and make ’em better. Not because I think they’re doing the right thing here.” He glances over at Gwen and nods at her.
Tamlin looks a bit taken aback, her gaze flicking over Brodie as if she’s realizing for the first time that maybe she judged him too harshly. He meets her gaze and holds it, not wilting under the power of her stare like I’ve seen plenty of other people do, although his cheeks turn a trifle pink.
Huh.
I glance away before either of them can catch me watching their interaction—although I’m not sure they’d notice anyway, considering how focused they are on each other.
After a few minutes, Tamlin leaves to go back to her class and the rest of us step out of the office, leaving Brodie and Gwen behind. My erstwhile roommate has her hands braced on the desk, her gaze laser-focused on the button in front of her.
God, I hope this works. Because even though we might’ve found a small lead, it doesn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, we’re running out of time.
Luckily, I think I know something I can do while Gwen’s working.
Chapter 17
Roman is not too fond of my idea.
“He tried to kill us,” he points out, putting his body in front of mine as I move to leave, his voice low and hard.
“He didn’t actually want to hurt me.” I stop in my tracks, because I know if I move around him, Roman will just slip around me and stop me again. We’re both stubborn enough that we could play that game forever. What I really need to do is convince him I’m right.
“He was upset that it was me,” I continue. “He was disappointed that I was the one trying to stop him. He didn’t want it to be me. I think him wanting to be friends with me was genuine. I think a part of him… really does care. And dammit, Roman, I could’ve been him!”
The man before me starts to shake his head, cobalt eyes blazing, but before he can speak, I lift a hand.
“I know you don’t think so. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t have that in me. But I was so fucking angry and alone after Mom died that if not for Maddy, if not for my promise to take care of her—if someone had come up to me and told me I could get revenge on my father, on the whole community who didn’t help us when my mother was sick and dying and we were alone—who’s to say I wouldn’t have followed him? I was eighteen; I was young and vulnerable.”
Roman sighs, running a hand down his face. “I still don’t think you would have, Reckless. You’re a better person than you give yourself credit for.” Then he presses his lips together, and I see his throat work as he swallows. “But, all right. If you really think it will help, go see him. Just. Be. Careful.”
I nod. “Trust me, he won’t get the chance to get the drop on me. And I’ll have Asher with me too. We’ll keep each other safe.”
Roman nods sharply, as if to himself, then checks to make sure nobody’s around. Satisfied that no one can see us, he kisses me swiftly, softly, pulling away before either of us can give in to temptation and deepen the kiss.
Dmitri, Asher, and Cam walk up, all still with their cuffs off—but only Asher will be coming with me. Dmitri looks about as pissed and agitated as Roman is, while Cam looks more concerned. There’s a little crease between his eyebrows, and he’s chewing his bottom lip so hard he’s liable to take a chunk out of it.
“It’s okay. We’ll be back before you know it,” I promise them, taking Asher’s hand.
I sound a lot more confident than I feel. After all, I don’t know how much resentment might have built up in the two years since my ex-classmate and I last spoke. I don’t know what’s been going on, what the Circuit might have done, to make his hatred burn even brighter.
But I have to do this. We have to try.
We’re going to see Raul.
The drive is quiet and short, since Raul is being held in the same prison complex as Johnson. Asher drives, even though I know he hates it. He’s too empathetic to deal with other drivers’ road rage well, but apparently, Maddy’s stories about my multitude of speeding tickets are still being counted against me. The guys all seem terrified to let me behind the wheel.
My cuff is off, but I put on a jacket to cover up my wrists. I don’t think that prison officials would be happy if they knew my magic isn’t currently being suppressed. In fact, there’s a lot we’re doing that the Circuit higher-ups would probably frown upon, and I’m just glad they seem to have given Aurora carte blanche to handle us, because she isn’t holding us on as tight of a leash as she could be. Or probably should be, if she wants to keep her job and position.
We pull up, Asher gives his ID, and we’re escorted back into the prison. It’s just as gloomy and awful as the last time that we were here, and goose bumps rise along the back of my neck. How could anyone stay here and feel remorse? How could anyone stay here and not grow to hate the Circuit even more?
What if I’m wrong? What if Raul hates me?
We’re shown into the interrogation room again, but this time, I’m not behind glass watching Asher. I’m with him, sitting down next to him as Raul is brought in to sit across from us.
He looks small, thin, frailer than I remember. I always thought he looked slim and was surprised at how much strength he had and how much magic he could wield. It didn’t seem like all that power should fit inside his small frame.
“Hi,” I say softly. I try for a smile, but it doesn’t quite work, doesn’t sit well on my face.
Raul looks me over. “You look good,” he tells me.
From someone else, it might be a pick-up line of some kind, but not from this boy. He sounds kind of relieved, actually, like he thought I might not be okay.
“I’ve heard about all you’ve gone through,” he continues. His voice is rough and quiet. “With the Trials, especially. It’s hard not to hear about that with Johnson being here. I’m glad to see you’re all right.”
“Thank you.” I’m thrown for a loop, not gonna lie. This is a lot more gentle of Raul than I ever expected from him. “I’m sorry. For whatever they’ve done to you here. I really am.”
He gives me a butterfly smile—it flits onto his face, lands for a moment, and then flits away again, gone. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. You’re thin.”
He shrugs. “I always was.”
Asher is patiently sitting beside me, waiting. None of the others would. Dmitri would be smoldering, Roman would be pacing, and Cam would be cracking sarcastic jokes. I’m glad right now that it’s just Asher. This man who knows how to be patient, and list
en, and give the benefit of the doubt—probably because it’s hard to judge people when you can get inside their heads and feel what they feel, see their side of the story.
“We’re here to ask you about your boss,” I tell Raul. “Or leader, or whatever you want to call him.”
I try to keep my voice gentle, in a way that I probably wouldn’t bother with anyone else. But even for all he’s done… all the hurt he caused… I can’t find it in myself to be cruel or vengeful. I was angry at Raul, bewildered and disappointed, but I never hated him. Not like I hate Johnson and the bastard who’s organizing all of this.
The gangly boy shrugs. “I can only tell you so much. The rest of it is all locked down. I would, if I could, at this point. At first I didn’t want to. I believed in what he was saying. But I… I felt bad for what… for trying to kill you. And I’m not sure… the more time that’s passed, the less sure I am that I was fully myself when I hurt the others. When I killed Trevor. I can’t remember everything. It’s like I wasn’t always… me.”
“You think he might have been controlling you?” I’m not surprised to hear it, but I am upset. It feels like my skin is crawling as I think about it. Someone taking over my mind like that, controlling me…
No. No, I’d hate it. No way.
Raul shrugs. “I don’t know. It feels like such a blur.”
I’m not altogether sure how I feel about this. On the one hand, I feel bad for Raul. I feel a kinship with him, almost. But on the other hand I don’t—can’t—give him total exoneration in my mind, I can’t say that what he did was okay. It wasn’t. He murdered someone.
How do I forget that? Do I forgive that? Should I forgive that?
It’s all jumbled up in my head.
“Why are you here, Elliot?” Raul asks after a moment of awkward silence. “I know it’s not just to say hello.”
His tone isn’t accusatory—more curious.
“How much do you hear about what’s going on outside?” I ask. I can’t imagine that the guards here tell the prisoners much.
Raul shrugs. “We get bits and pieces. They let us watch the Trials, for good behavior. That was fun. But I don’t really know all of it. More like… rumors and stuff that come from people overhearing the guards talking.”
“Okay then.” I sigh. “So… the tide’s really been turning against Unpredictables. Your boss has attacked our school again and again, and it’s been working. He’s turning public opinion against us, getting people to think we’re dangerous and that we need to be stopped. That we need to have our magic taken away.”
It makes it feel more real, somehow, to lay it all out like this. To tell someone like Raul who’s got no idea how serious the situation is outside. Everyone else, even Maddy, knows what’s going on for us, has a good idea of the way the tide is flowing.
But Raul has no clue. And saying it to him like this…
It makes me realize that, yes, this is really what’s happening. People want to take our magic away. It makes it horribly, sickeningly real.
I swallow hard and force myself to focus. I’m not going to rail or rant or have a panic attack in this prison, of all places.
Raul’s eyes go wide, and he looks alarmed. “I had no—I didn’t think—I thought that we would be working to—to liberate Unpredictables. To go against the Circuit, to make them take us seriously, to get—to get revenge.”
Asher raises his eyebrows at that, and something of my own thoughts must show on my face as well, because Raul goes a bit red in the face, embarrassed. “I know it wasn’t… I know that it was wrong, what I did. I’m not excusing it. I’m just—I guess I was lied to more than I thought.”
He takes a deep breath, his chest shaking. “I want to help you guys. If I can. I want to fix this. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to, with the lock on my mind.”
“Your willingness helps,” Asher says. “If the person whose mind I’m going into is willing, then it’s easier for me to sort through and try to find things.”
“You think you’ll be able to get through the wards?” Doubt flashes across Raul’s face.
“I’m going to try,” Asher replies. “I’m Unpredictable. They say that means we’re more powerful, without the help of charms and all that, so… here’s hoping it’s true.”
“He managed to get something from Johnson,” I add. “And that asshole didn’t want to help Asher at all.”
“He’s the one who attacked you at the Trials.” Raul frowns slightly.
I nod. “Yeah. Didn’t work hard enough to kill me, I guess.”
I’m trying for a joke, but he still looks troubled.
“Hey! Don’t go attacking him or killing him for me or anything,” I warn.
Raul’s an intense person, and he’s clearly had his sense of right and wrong manipulated and twisted by whoever groomed him. I don’t want him to go and try to kill Johnson out of a misplaced idea of looking for redemption or trying to make it up to me for attacking me.
The boy in front of us looks pointedly down at his hands, which are cuffed to the table. “I don’t think that’s an option.”
“As if you couldn’t figure out a way around those if you really wanted to.”
The corner of Raul’s mouth ticks upward into a half-smile. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“Good, it was meant as one.”
Whatever else he may be, this kid is smart—he used to help me with my homework during our first semester, before I was close enough to the guys to feel comfortable asking them for things like that.
“You ready?” Asher asks.
Raul nods, taking a deep breath before locking eyes with him.
You don’t have to be looking someone in the eye to read their mind, but according to Asher, it helps. Eyes really are the window to the soul and all that.
Both men go still and quiet. Asher’s body gets tense, while Raul’s relaxes. Raul has a very blank look on his face, like he’s trying not to think of anything in particular, trying to keep himself open so that Asher can get to where he needs to go inside his head.
Asher’s brow furrows in concentration again. He’s starting to sweat a bit, just like last time, and I want to hold his hand or touch him some other way, to reassure him and lend him strength somehow—but that might just break his concentration further, and I definitely don’t want that.
Raul’s eyelids flutter, and his jaw twitches as if he’s in pain. Is this hurting him? Is it hurting Asher?
Asher clenches his jaw, and I see his palms press harder into the table, his fingers shaking a little.
Come on, I think to myself, hoping my thoughts aren’t loud enough to intrude on Asher’s concentration. Come on…
After what feels like an eternity, Ash inhales sharply and then slumps in the chair, breaking eye contact with Raul.
Both men are breathing heavily. I put my hand on Asher’s arm, squeezing tightly as I feel the muscle bunch beneath my touch. “You okay?”
Asher nods. “Yeah. The wards are strong. And… no offense, Raul, but your mind’s younger. Untrained. So he was able to lock your mind down even tighter than Johnson’s.”
Raul looks troubled at that, and I don’t blame him. He met his “mentor” before he went to Griffin, so it was before he had any kind of magical training, before he would have had any clue how to handle his magic or how to protect himself. Johnson met the same guy after decades of studying magic and fortifying his mind.
It’s such a scary thought, to be preyed upon like that when you’re young and vulnerable. My stomach twists like it might try to upchuck everything I ate today.
“Were you able to get anything?” Raul asks. He sounds anxious, and his fingers drum anxiously on the table.
I look at Asher. I can tell that the boy we came to see wants so badly to be helpful, but I like to think I’m becoming an expert in Asher’s facial expressions—that I can see through the careful, calm mask—and I don’t think he got as much as we’d hoped.
“
There was a design,” Ash says. He looks toward the one-way mirror, raising his voice. “Could I get some paper and a pen?” Then he turns back to us. “I need to sketch it out before I forget it.”
An officer brings a paper and pen, and Asher draws the design. It looks like maybe it’s some kind of sigil, but not any sigil I recognize. I mean, admittedly, I’m not the best at runes by a long shot. I’m much better at the theoretical, and even with my own magic, than I am with the practical application of enchantments and charms.
But judging by the confused look that Raul and Asher give this design, I don’t think they know what it is either. Raul’s powerful with magic, and he got extra training from his asshole of a supposed mentor, and Asher has a mind like a steel trap. If neither of them recognize this… then it’s pretty damn obscure.
If it even is a sigil at all. It could be something else entirely.
“I also got one other thing,” Asher says. “A color—robin’s egg blue.”
Huh. That’s a soft shade of cyan. It’s also a hugely popular color. That could mean anything from an actual egg, to the color someone’s painted their walls, or any number of other things. I don’t know how much a damn color can help us.
But Raul looks hopeful, and I hate to crush his heart. “Can you guys use that?” he asks. He looks so young and boyish as he leans forward eagerly.
Ack. What the hell else am I supposed to say?
“Yeah,” I tell him. “This is helpful, definitely. Thanks, Raul. Is it okay if maybe we come back and try again another time? See if we can get any more?”
We won’t really have the time for that, not with the clock ticking down the way it is, but I figure… we’re the closest thing to friends he has. I don’t want to tell him that he was useless and now we’re leaving him and never coming back. What kind of response would that be?
