"I didn't," said Jacky, reaching for Niall, who tore his hands away. "Niall, the demon did it, not me!"
"You..." Niall's legs gave out again, and he sat down heavily on the porch. He pressed his face into his hands. What was he going to do? There was something wrong with Jacky. Something he hadn't realized before, although he should have. The person standing next to him, the person he loved, wasn't who he thought he'd been at all. Was this what had been lurking under the surface all along, just waiting to come out?
"We've got to get to school," said Jacky matter-of-factly.
Niall looked up at him, incredulous. "School?"
"Yeah. Why, what do you wanna do?" Jacky's face lit up. "Niall, we could do anything."
Anything. He could do anything at all. But what should he do? That was the question. "Let's just go to school. We'll... we'll figure something out tonight."
They walked to the bus stop in silence, Niall's mind racing, but when the bus came and they boarded it like every other day, he could almost convince himself that it had been a horrible dream. They sat in their normal seat near the back, and huddled together while the other kids talked loudly and noisily about their plans for the weekend. It was like normal. Maybe everything could just keep being normal.
Except how could everything go back to how it was when... No, he couldn't think about it. Not yet. Just follow the routine. Say goodbye to Jacky, open his locker, collect his books, and slump to class.
He sat in the same chair, in the same room, with the same teacher's voice wafting over him. Yet everything was different. He could feel things about the room that he hadn't been able to before. He knew things. Things he couldn't possibly know. The teacher's first name was Mitchell, and he was going through a divorce with his wife. The girl next to him thought she might be pregnant, and was going to kill her boyfriend. The boy in front of him, the one who always teased Jacky and called him queer, was thinking about fucking men, picturing it vividly in his head.
No! It was too much, pressing into him; he was going to go mad. He stood up abruptly, and the entire class turned to look at him. "Niall?" asked the teacher, the one with the cheating wife, and the secret sock fetish, who wished his mother hadn't left him as a child—no, stop it! "Is something wrong?"
"It's nothing," said Niall, his mouth dry. "I just... I have to go to the toilet."
There was a knock on the door, and the teacher turned from the strange look he was giving Niall to go answer it. Two men stood there, one with pale skin and short ginger hair, the other bald with dark brown skin. They wore plain black suits, and their eyes were frighteningly similar, cold and narrow.
"Hello," said the black man, his eyes glancing around the room. His accent was smooth and English, and Niall was reminded of Khireneth, the memory accompanied by a burst of nausea. "We're here to collect Niall Daly. It's a family matter."
"Oh," said the teacher. Niall was still getting information from him, spurts of childhood memories, colours, flavours. But from the two suited men, he got absolutely nothing. Wasn't that strange? "Of course. Niall?"
Niall stood frozen for a moment. Family matter. Had something happened to his family? Something Jacky had done to them? His stomach lurched. "Coming," he said, quickly reaching back to grab his bag and rushing to the front of the room. "Are they okay?"
"Your parents are fine," said the ginger man in an Irish accent indiscernible from Niall's own. "This is about you."
"I don't understand."
"You will shortly. This way."
They led Niall out of the school, and Niall thought for a moment that he should check out at the office. But if this was really an emergency...
The two men led him to a black van parked in the lot, and slid the door open. Niall only glanced in for a moment before he began to scream for help. Jacky lay on the floor of the van, his eyes closed and his body still. Niall couldn't tell if he was alive or dead. His scream was cut off by the black man, who clasped a hand over his mouth. Niall tried to scream, but he could barely breathe. The man's hand smelled like sweat and metal.
"Get him in," he nodded to the Irish man, glancing around nervously. Niall tried to struggle, but they were much too strong. He tried to remember what he had done to the fly, the flash of heat, the burning.
"Ouch!" said the Irish man. A few strange words escaped his mouth, and Niall felt the fire being extinguished, as if doused. "You don't want to do that," hissed the man. "Your friend tried to struggle." He jerked his head at Jacky, and Niall could feel his eyes widening, panic setting in. The men managed to get a proper grip on him and tossed him into the van, the door sliding closed behind him.
Niall screamed, shoving himself at the door, lashing against it with everything he had, his fists, and his new raw magic that he was so terrified of. It hurt, touching the metal walls with both skin and magic, shocking him and burning him, until he was nearly sick and unconscious, crying on the floor.
"What's going on?" he whimpered, crawling towards Jacky. He reached for his face, touching it, trying to wake him. "Jacky, wake up, please!"
"He won't wake up for several hours," said a tinny voice from somewhere above him. It was the Irish man. "No point in trying."
"Who are you?" Niall said, his voice shaking. "Where are you taking us?"
"Somewhere safe," replied the voice. "We belong to an organization called the Guild. It's in charge of regulation and control of magical practices."
"Magical practices," whispered Niall. "But we didn't do anything."
"Not yet," said the voice with a tinge of amusement. "But you've caused quite a stir. Your power levels registered on all the charts, out of nowhere, too; much too dangerous to leave without Guild intervention. I suspect they'll want to detain and study you. It won't be too bad. A few weeks at most, if you cooperate." There was a pause. "It's for your own good, you know. Power like that is dangerous. Could cause serious problems if left unchecked."
"Yes," said Niall, feeling his heartbeat subside a little. "I suppose that's true."
The voice didn't respond, so he crawled to the middle of the metal room and lay down next to Jacky, taking his hand and squeezing it. "You hear that, Jacky? They're taking us somewhere safe. Everything's going to be fine."
Everything was going to be fine. Everything was going to be just fine.
Chapter Two
Five years later
"You were crying in your sleep again."
Kathleen opened her eyes, giving up on the desperate desire to fall back asleep that always accompanied the loud buzzing of the alarm. Warren was lying on his side next to her, his head resting on his arm, just looking at her. He reached a hand out to smooth a few stray blonde hairs out of her eyes.
"I'm all right," she said. "Just bad dreams."
"I know," he said, his thick black eyebrows knitting in concern. He was so handsome, even with the worry lines that had formed around his dark eyes as of late. He reached his arm out and she let him pull her into his embrace for a few moments, sighing in the momentary contentment.
"I don't want to go today," she said, her voice so quiet she could barely hear herself.
She felt him sigh, knew he was suppressing an old argument. "You don't have to."
"Yes, I do. You know that."
"I wish you could at least tell me what you're doing."
"I'd rather you didn't know, honestly." He would leave her if he knew. Surely he would. She was always surprised that he didn't leave her anyway. She pulled him closer, willing him to stay.
"I'll make the coffee," he said with a quick peck to the side of her head. "Rest a little longer."
"Yeah." But she didn't. Once he was gone she lay between the cold sheets and tried not to think about the day, to no avail. Finally she got up and pulled a soft white robe around her, exiting into the sparse, modern kitchen. "Did you check on her?" she asked Warren, nodding at the closed door down the hall.
"Sleeping," he said. "You wanna say goodbye to her before you leave? She has another
treatment today, so she'll probably want to see you." He held out the coffee cup and Kathleen took it gratefully.
"I'll pop in and say goodbye before I leave," she agreed. "What time is it?"
"The appointment? Two o'clock. You won't be able to make it."
"No." She sighed. "You'd think they'd at least let me go with her."
"I don't like any of it." Warren leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee and staring angrily off into the distance. "If they have the technology for the treatment, why don't they make it available to the public?"
"If they did, it'd cost a fortune, and I'd have to work for them anyway to pay for it."
"You could work somewhere else."
Kathleen shook her head. The coffee tasted like ash. "Doesn't work that way. I'm contracted, and specialized."
"You're miserable."
"We all make sacrifices for our children," she said quietly. Warren knew that. He'd given up a promising law career to care for Mina, so that Kathleen could work full time for the company and continue to receive 'benefits.' Warren was right, they should make the treatment available to the public. But that wasn't the Guild's style. Kathleen was valuable, her sick daughter's treatment collateral, and that was the way it was.
She couldn't bring herself to wake Mina fully from her slumber when she went in to say goodbye. The treatments were painful, and she needed all her strength. She smoothed the dark hair off her daughter's face and kissed her forehead, worrying at the pallor of her skin. She never seemed to stay healthy for long. Kathleen often wondered if the Guild didn't possess magicians capable of healing her completely. But she knew the answer, if she thought about it. Of course they did.
Mina shifted a little and murmured Kathleen's name—she had never picked up mummy and daddy. Mature from a young age, just as Kathleen had been. Although for Mina it was out of necessity, not precociousness. Kathleen continued to smooth the girl's hair out of her face, whispering that she had to go to work now, and that Warren would be taking her for her treatment later today. "Go back to sleep now," she whispered, watching Mina's eyelids flutter into rest. "I love you."
"Love you too," whispered Mina, and then she was out again.
Kathleen sighed, willing herself to stand from where she had been crouched next to Mina's bed. She had already changed into a sharp grey business suit and pulled her hair back into a tight bun. She longed for the days before the Guild, when she'd worn her hair free, braided with bones and crystals. Silly nostalgia that didn't bear thinking about, but some days she couldn't help it. She wondered what Baba Mina would think of her now.
She was glad the old lady was dead. She could hardly bear the shame as it was.
"Have you got a lunch?" Warren asked her as she slipped into her pumps at the door, and she shook her head. "You've really got to eat."
"You're nagging," she said.
"I'm worried."
"Yes." She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and straightening her jacket. "You've made that abundantly clear."
He stepped across the kitchen to stand in front of her, bringing his hands up to her face. "Have a good day," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. She wanted to laugh, but was afraid it would come out as a sob. She wished she could tell him. She wished she could confess.
*~*~*
She had barely swiped her card to enter the facility before she was accosted by workers, swarming around her and informing her of an "ongoing incident with Subject J6."
"Is he trying to escape again?" she asked, not in the mood for the sort of technical terminology encouraged by the Guild.
"N-no, not exactly," stammered one of the secretaries, shoving his glasses further up his sweaty, beak-like nose. "We can't seem to discern a motivation, he's just gone haywire!"
"Any damage to the facility?" She reached for one of the clipboards shoved at her and surveyed it momentarily.
"No," said a young woman, far too young, with pretty brown eyes and hair. A novice sorceress put on grunt work in the hopes of achieving a high position. Kathleen always had to force down the desire to tell her to run, to get away while she still could. But it was too late anyway. "He's contained, but we thought you might be able to calm him down."
Kathleen sighed, stepping into observatory room J6 with another quick swipe of her card. The glass viewing window was dimmed to block out the painfully bright light from within the holding room. If she squinted she could see a dark figure moving around inside, erratic and blurred. "How did he manage to break free of the restraints then?" she said, sighing again.
Another young sorcerer stood with his hands on the magical charge panel, feeding energy into the magical blockers of the walls. "It was our fault, ma'am," he said, his teeth gritted. "We didn't switch shifts quickly enough and he waited for the break. Must have been building up reserves all night."
"He's secure now, though?" she confirmed, peering at the dim figure of J6, still darting around the room in a frenzy. The sound transmitters had been turned off, but she knew if they weren't she would be able to hear the crashes as he threw himself repeatedly into the magically reinforced walls.
"Yes, ma'am," said the Second Hand who had risen from his seat when Kathleen entered. "He'll exhaust himself eventually and we'll be able to restrain him then. Unless you think you can calm him down now."
She tapped her foot, staring disapprovingly at the glass. "No," she said. "He's just having a tantrum. Let him wear it out. I'll work with J7 for the morning. You're all right on shift there, then?" she said, eyeing the sorcerer, who was sweating slightly.
"Fine," he said. "Normal wear, really, I'm just out of practice."
"You've been on J7, haven't you?" she asked.
The man nodded. "He's a bit slack."
"In some ways, yes." She spared one more frown at the figure beyond the glass before leaving, assigning two more sorcerers to the room, just in case. Her pumps clacked against the metal floor as she made her way down the hall to the J7 observatory room. She couldn't help but feel a bit relieved that she wouldn't have to deal with J6 until later on in the day, even though she liked to get him out of the way. Oh well, nothing to be done for it.
She swiped her card once more and stepped into the J7 observatory. The sorcerer on duty, who had been slumped with only one hand on the charge panel, straightened guiltily and nodded at her, while the Second Hand barely swivelled in his chair to glance at her.
"Anything new?" she asked, setting her bag down on the counter and straightening her jacket.
The Second Hand shook his head, still barely glancing at her. "He's been up for a few hours. Usual routine, don't you usually do J6 first?"
She shrugged. "Bit of an issue with 6, will you let him know I'm coming in?"
"Sure," said the Hand as Kathleen left through the side door into the tertiary chamber. "I'll tell him to put a shirt on."
She sighed, crossing her arms as she waited for the magical seals to travel from one door to the other. The sorcerer was taking his time about it. At last the light above the door glowed green and she pulled it open, stepping into the suite.
The sparse white decor was cold and clinical, but it was a right sight better than the metal restraints J6 lived with. J7 had earned these luxuries through cooperation and submission. For every experiment done without incident, every mind search and memory probe without resistance, he gained favours. Little things like clothes, books, furniture and limited internet access. Kathleen liked positive reinforcement. She wished she had the chance to use them on J6, but he only ever forced her into negative reinforcement.
There was a rustling from the bedroom, and a moment later J7 emerged. He was barefoot but wearing jeans and a t-shirt, ones he had requested, and he was newly shaved and washed. He liked to take care of his appearance, keeping his hair short and working out every day on the exercise machines provided. Kathleen knew it helped him feel like he was holding onto his humanity. "Hello, Kathleen," he said, his Irish accent as pronounced as ever. Someti
mes she wished she had never given him her name. It felt more real this way. More damning. "You're early."
"Hello, Niall," she said. "Why don't we have a seat?"
"Are you going to torture me again today?" he said with a small smile as he sat on the couch across from her. "Or will you be getting into my head and making me think I've escaped when I haven't again? That was fun."
"I think we're a little past that, at this point, don't you?"
He leaned forward, intertwining his long fingers and resting his chin on them. "Have you come up with something new then?"
She sat, attempting to make herself comfortable, but it was difficult on the hard cushions of the couch. "I thought we might start by watching the incident again."
His face fell, and he leaned back, sighing with frustration. "No. We've already watched it a hundred times. You won't get anything new from it, we both know that."
"That remains to be seen." Kathleen crossed her arms. He was being impertinent again, like he hadn't been in a long while, and she didn't know why.
"Well, what if you never find anything?"
"Then we'll move on to other procedures. They have some new ones planned for next week to test the sources of the magic in your body." She recognised the look of fear in his eyes, and attempted to explain, her words hollow. "You have to understand how valuable you are, Niall; it's not often that a human being is affected by demon magic so powerfully. We stand to learn a lot from you, both about demon and human magic."
"I know." He cut her off, looking away in disgust. She could see the muscles in his jaw tightening as he held back his words. "I'm never going to get out of here, am I?"
"You might, eventually. After significant mind reconfiguration." She hated the pain in his eyes. The betrayal. "I'm just being honest with you, Niall, you said that's what you wanted."
"What I wanted." He laughed, his hazel eyes flickering to her as if to share the joke. "Oh, lord." He stared away from her for a long moment, rubbing his face with his hand. "I know it's not your fault," he said. "I know you have your reasons for doing this and," he paused, glancing up at her again, "I'm sorry."
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