by Theresa Kay
Lir’s arm tightens around me, pulling me closer. “Hey,” he says. “What’s wrong?”
“Rym and I were talking… about his family, his father. His situation is so much like mine with my brother. My birthday… our birthday. I’ve never… We’ve never…”
He moves his other arm around my waist. “Been apart.”
I nod, mutely.
I’m sorry for your pain. If there was anything I could do…
And that’s the crux of it. There’s nothing to do. Nothing I can do, and nothing anyone can do for me. It’s not like Jace and I made this huge deal about our birthday, but to not even be able to talk to him? It’s like my heart is breaking all over again. Not for me. For Jace. At least I have friends; Jace has nobody. Not anyone who truly cares for him, anyway. He’s isolated and alone in that cold darkness I saw in his mind. And I’m the one who deserted him and left him to fend for himself. How utterly awful.
Yes. It is. Lir runs his thumb over the back of my hand.
I glance up at him. How much of that did you get? I somehow doubt he’s agreeing with me on what an awful person I am for leaving my brother.
He shrugs. Bits and pieces. You tend to broadcast more when you are upset or restless. I mostly got the feeling of it, but I know you and I had a good idea of what would be going through your head anyway.
I close my eyes and let the warmth from him flow across the bond to wrap around me. This is not something I thought I’d ever have, this connection to someone other than my twin. Especially not after what happened at the cabin. I thought I’d never find anyone who would understand me. I’m more than grateful for it, but right now it’s yet another thing I have to feel guilty for. Because I have someone to lean on and Jace doesn’t—and because whatever part of me protected me from Jastren wasn’t enough to protect my brother too. I should have—
“Hey, cuz, can you come up here for a minute? I think we have a problem,” Rym calls out from the front of the ship.
Lir releases me gently, stands, and walks to the cockpit. Not one to be left behind, I follow.
“Ah, good, you’re here too,” Rym says to me as I enter behind Lir. “I’m not that familiar with the area, but I think your priest’s cabin is still a ways up, right?”
I look out at the expanse of trees below us. “Um, I don’t know how to judge that from the air, but I think we’ve still got a little farther to go. Why?”
Rym points out the front window. “I think Lir and I were correct when we thought my father had moved up his timetable on the human initiative a bit. It appears he’s only made it to the first stage, but…”
I look out the window and see nothing but trees. “What are you talking about?”
“That,” he says, pointing. “Look closely. It can be hard to see.”
I squint my eyes, and this time I see it: the subtle reflection of a barrier. One that’s much farther out than it should be.
“He really did it.” Lir breathes out, shaking his head. “He extended the barrier.”
“So it appears,” says Rym.
“Extended the barrier?” I ask.
The two boys glance at each other, and Lir closes his eyes and drops his chin to his chest. “Human initiative stage one.” He flinches at the choked noise that escapes from my mouth. “We knew he was planning this when we left, but I did not realize he could have implemented it this quickly.”
Rym shrugs. “You know, this could work out for us. Might be the perfect excuse to get rid of our boys in camo back there. I’m sure they don’t have any of those nifty bracelets for getting humans past the barrier like Adam did. We can probably convince them we have to leave them on this side of the barrier for their own protection.”
“Could work.” Lir shifts from foot to foot. “They aren’t going to like it, though.”
“Nope,” says Rym with a pop on the ‘p’.
“So what now?” I ask.
Lir thinks for a moment. “Take the ship as close as you can, then set it down. We will explain the ‘problem’ after landing. I’ll find a way to get them to agree to stay behind.”
With the three of us crowded in the cockpit, Rym flies the ship close to the barrier. He sets the ship down in a small clearing barely wide enough to accommodate it, then powers it down. His eyes meet mine, then Lir’s, and he shrugs. “Might as well get this over with,” he says.
He jumps up from his seat and sticks his head through the doorway into the passenger section of the ship. “There’s a bit of a problem up ahead,” he says, “and I’ve landed so we can figure out what to do. How about everyone steps outside for a few minutes?”
Gavin and Harrison look confused and a little worried, but they knew we were going to stop, and they exit the ship without question. The other two men grumble under their breath. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but judging by the looks on their faces, it’s not very complimentary. They do step off the ship though, so I suppose that’s a win. Here’s hoping it’s as easy to convince them to stay behind as it was to convince them to disembark.
IT’S ALMOST NOON BY THE time I wake up, and my head is still aching from Grandfather’s ministrations yesterday. Or maybe from the strain of flying the ship. Either way, if I don’t get my ass out of bed he’s going to—
My heads spins as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. I close my eyes and massage my temples until the dizziness recedes. It’s the newest in a long line of symptoms, and it needs to go away. Now. I don’t have time to be this foggy.
I keep one hand on the wall as I rise to my feet and take a few deep breaths. The room wobbles a bit, but I’m standing. I run a hand over my face, and my palm comes away wet—with blood, of course. Another thing I don’t have time for.
A glance back at the bed confirms I lost yet more blood while I was sleeping. So, the dizziness is most likely from blood loss, and not from my mind being in pieces all over Dane’s—Grandfather’s—office.
Pain stabs into my temples at the brief flash of memories from yesterday, and this time they aren’t so easily shoved back behind the wall I depend on to hide them. The image of bright blue eyes lingers, and my stomach churns. Seems like Grandfather’s blocks on my memories are not as strong as they should be. Or I’m just too exhausted to reinforce them with my own avoidance. Maybe some food would help.
Getting dressed is a feat in and of itself. My weak legs don’t much care to take me anywhere, but I manage to stumble around the room long enough to find clean clothes. I have to sit down to put on my pants and boots. I drag a hand over my face and rest my forehead in my palm.
How much more of this can I take? The more I use my abilities, the more I fall apart. Or is it the more I fight back? Does this happen to Jax?
Jax…
I flinch, waiting for the surge of pain, terror, and whatever else normally comes when I so much as think her name. But there’s nothing. Grandfather must be awfully distracted. Or maybe whatever damage I’m doing by using my abilities is lessening his influence? I’ll take the nosebleeds and the headaches and even the awful memories any day if it means I can shake free. Hope flares in my chest. I fumble through tying my laces and lurch to my feet. Maybe I can—
Meet me at my office.
My hope shatters. I’ll never be free of him. Not unless I’m dead, and for all I know, maybe not even then. I can’t keep this up, the back and forth. Every time I think I might be able to pull away, he yanks me back in as if it’s some kind of experiment. It probably is. Grandfather is a scientist at heart, and he, more than anyone, is interested in how far my leash can reach and how far my mind can be pushed. He doesn’t seem to care what consequences his lab rat might suffer.
Well, if I’m not getting out of here, I guess I have some time to waste after all. I sit back down on the bed. The prickly ache in the back of my head hasn’t left me for… weeks? But the spinning will go away eventually. I hope.
When my head clears and my equilibrium returns enough for me to push myself to my
feet, I walk into the attached bathroom and lean against the small sink. I splash cold water on my face until I feel… human? Coherent? Something like that. I comb some water through my hair, not bothering to check my reflection in the mirror. Grandfather doesn’t much care if I look like hell, and I can’t stand to look myself in the face.
By the time I’ve dried off, my mind and body are mostly stable. Grandfather’s office is only a few blocks away, so “mostly stable” should be good enough to get me there.
Outside, I ignore everyone, my face down and my gaze fixed firmly on the ground. But stray thoughts from passersby flutter across my mind. This involuntary intake of the thoughts around me is a new development, and it only happens when I’m utterly exhausted. I suppose with more effort I could block more effectively, but I don’t much care right now. Besides, the unfiltered opinions remind me who I am. And I deserve it.
Murderer…
Betrayer…
Killer…
The three-word beat plays in my head. Different voices and different inflections, but all the same. It’s almost funny how similarly people think around here. Granted, there’s an occasional pitying thought, but those earn a glare from me, and the thinker quickly changes his or her tune.
Just as I arrive outside the building where Grandfather’s office is, I hear one more word.
Fag.
Okay, that one drags a snorting laugh from me. Of all the words Daniel could call me, he chooses that one? It doesn’t even bother me. Not in the way he wants it to anyway. I’m not ashamed of that part of me, and I’m damn sure not ashamed of Flint. Not for loving him.
But the word does hurt me in another way—by reminding me of what I lost. Nausea twists my stomach into a knot of pain and grief, and I curl my hands into fists. I shoot Daniel a hard look, and he meets my eyes with an arrogance I’d love nothing more than to choke him with. He’s been around Grandfather and me long enough, eavesdropped on enough conversations, to know I can read his thoughts sometimes. He smirks.
F-A-G. The sound of each letter is enunciated clearly inside my brain. He might not have meant for me to hear it the first time, but he definitely means for me to hear it this time.
Heat snakes up my torso and floods into the rest of my body. The tips of my fingers tingle with a white-hot desire to wipe the expression from his face. It’s about time I showed him exactly who he’s messing with.
Daniel Cartuck is nothing special. A bully. An asshole. Practically useless. Grandfather wouldn’t mind too much if I just…
I lean forward, my mouth stretched in a grin so tight it’s closer to a grimace, and allow the flames of my rage to flicker in my eyes.
I haven’t had as much practice with using this aspect of the shikiza, but I’ve been at the other end of it, so I can figure it out. As the words form in my head, I shape them into a mental spear coated in fire. I slam my palm down on Daniel’s chest and pour the flames of my anger into his body. At the same time, I send words slicing through his mind. Never use that word again or I will rip you apart.
I narrow my eyes and squeeze his mind until he falls to his knees.
“Yes… Okay… I…”
Another flexing of my mental power, this time strong enough to cut off all his air, his words, and everything else except his consciousness.
“Your next breath is mine. The next beat of your heart is mine. I own you. If I choose, I could let you kneel there in front of me awake and aware as you slowly suffocate to death,” I say, the words nothing more than a hiss. “Never disrespect me again.”
I release him and he falls to the side, gasping for breath.
Before I enter the building, I deliberately meet the eyes of each of Daniel’s two buddies. Their sneers are gone, and their disdain for me has been replaced with fear. Good. They should fear me. My lips twist into a cruel smile as they each take two steps backward.
I go inside without another word. It isn’t until the door is shut behind me that I realize my hands are shaking.
Impressive.
A chuckle comes from the top of the stairs. My head jerks up, and I find Grandfather standing there, slowly clapping his hands.
“I was wondering when you were going to put that imbecile in his place,” he says. “Good for muscle, but not much else.”
My jaw tenses. He’s done this before—pretended to be pleased only to come at me with twice the normal amount of pain.
A smile crawls onto his face and he shakes his head slowly as he descends the stairs and comes to stand next to me. “Do not worry. It was an honest compliment. I am pleased to see you finally exercising your abilities without being… prompted.” He gestures down the hallway. I guess he won’t be forcing me to sit in his office again today. “Wonderful timing in fact. I have a project for you.”
Grandfather leads me down the hallway and into a small, windowless room at the end. He motions for me to enter in front of him, then follows me inside, shutting the door behind him.
When I see what’s in the room, the uneasy feeling of teetering on the edge as I wait for an attack drains away. One of Dane’s scientists is tied to a wooden chair, his face bloody, his shoulder slumped in defeat. He’s the shorter one, the one Grandfather backhanded in the lab, but most of his injuries look new. What’s going on?
I glance at Grandfather in confusion.
He inclines his head toward the bound scientist. “As you know, on my own my mental abilities do not have much of an effect on humans. The physical method has not been very effective, and I had hoped if you got more rest, the… information-gathering process would be easier. For the both of us.” His smile is cold. “Your demonstration outside showed enough control over the shikiza that I believe you can proceed without my assistance. I have other things I need to attend to at the moment.” He leans in and pins me to the spot with a sharp gaze. “You will get me the information about the Bridgelake subjects from this man. Use whatever method works best. I do not care if there is anything left of him afterward.”
There’s no push behind his command, no slithering force in my head, just his words. But I still don’t have a choice. I force myself to nod.
He pats me on the head. “Good boy.”
The physical contact is brief, but it’s long enough for me to get a sense of Grandfather’s… exhaustion? I’m so stunned at this sign of weakness from him—the first one I’ve ever encountered—that I’m only mildly irritated about being treated like a dog. He’s fallible after all. That means—
An iron fist closes around my mind, cutting off the world around me. My awareness shrinks to nothing but a tiny pinprick of light and the sound of his voice in my ear. “And Jace… I expect results. I am giving you some autonomy, but should you choose to abuse my trust, I will do to you what you threatened to do to the man outside, but with much more finesse than you could ever manage. I will tear your mind into shreds, and you will be completely aware as I peel off each layer.”
Air rushes into my chest as he releases his hold on me. I nod rapidly. I’ll do as he asks. Tired or not, I’m no match for him.
THE SOLDIERS WERE SURPRISINGLY AGREEABLE to being left behind. Rym’s vivid descriptions of what could happen to humans if they tried to cross the barrier were pretty convincing, which kept the two soldiers from thinking too hard about the rest of the explanation Lir came up with—that the extended barrier could be unstable and he didn’t want to risk bringing the ship through or having the humans cross. It seemed logical enough to me, and they didn’t argue. Gavin and Harrison didn’t argue either. I’m fairly certain they both understood what was going on.
Lir, Rym, and I don’t say a single word for the first ten minutes of our walk into the woods. We have a silent agreement to wait until we’re out of earshot.
Lir speaks up first. “The barrier extension changes things. If my uncle has convinced the Council to move forward with the human initiative, I’m not certain I can convince him to go along with anything we discussed, or offer any help at all. He—”
“He’s been under the influence of Jastren Reva,” says Rym. “Things might be different now that Jastren is too far away to exercise any control over him.”
Shock jolts through both me and Lir like a cold splash of water. So that’s what he meant on the ship about knowing what I was going through with Jace. If his father is under Jastren’s influence too…
“What.” It’s not a question, and a quiet anger and suspicion lace that single word from Lir.
Rym takes a deep breath. “Trel…”
“Told you when she was bandaging your wound,” Lir says, nodding. The edge of caution hasn’t left his voice, but it has faded. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“Basically what I said. That Jastren was controlling him for a while. She wasn’t sure how long.”
Lir stops walking. There are too many emotions roiling through him at this moment for me to pick up on what he’s feeling. He puts a hand out and leans against a tree, still silent. When his voice finally comes, his words are barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Rym rubs at the back of his neck and stares at his feet. “There wasn’t time. It was—”
“It has been four blasted days! There has been plenty of time for you to tell me something so… so…”
Eyes firmly fixed on the ground, Rym sighs. “And if I’d told you before, if I’d told you right after she told me, or even after we’d lifted off to leave the city… what would you have done?”
“Gone back for Stella.”
“And you never would have found Jax in time. You never would have met with the humans. You—”
“That was not your choice to make!”
“I know that!” Rym yells, his eyes finally coming up to burn into Lir’s. “Even if my father wasn’t under the influence of Jastren anymore, that did not mean he would be any kinder to you. If you had stayed… Don’t you see? Trel promised to keep Stella safe, and you needed to do this. You needed to meet with the humans in order to show them.”
