Lindsay had no idea where they were. He was blind. Belatedly, he realized that the last thing he’d
seen outside of the illusion was the sign as they’d left the baggage area. His eyes were working—how he
knew, he couldn’t tell—but he couldn’t see, and he couldn’t hear, either. His mind was full of so much
vision, so much sound, everything anyone under his spell was experiencing, that he was deaf and
blind…and dumb. If he opened his mouth, he had no idea if his own words would come out or someone
else’s.
And that was when he panicked. He tried to pull out of the illusion, tried to get his mind back. He’d
been under an illusion of his own—that magic worked. That it was simple. That he’d been defective and that was why he couldn’t control it, why he couldn’t use it to save himself. But he’d been wrong. There was nothing magical about magic at all.
Lindsay tried to talk, to tell Dane he couldn’t do this anymore. He fought to get into his own body, to
be the one behind his eyes— his eyes and no one else’s eyes. He couldn’t draw attention to them, he couldn’t give in to the urge to claw at his head and tear at his hair so he could feel it and know that this was his body, his own body. His jaw was clamped—he thought it was his jaw—on desperate whimpers.
Just when he felt a scream about to break out of his throat, everything was silent, even him. As though
someone had dropped a bell jar over a candle, the world was utterly still and the fuel for Lindsay’s panic
was used up and gone. He was locked in stillness like an insect in amber, alone except for a sense of
sympathy.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” It was a woman’s voice, one Lindsay had never heard before.
Dane was drawing him off to the side, so they were close to the wall, out of the immediate press of
bodies, but everything was still moving around them, everything was chaotic. Someone’s luggage fell off
of a cart with a crash, and a mother with two suitcases and three children stopped right in front of them,
forcing Dane to step away from Lindsay or run them over.
Dane. Lindsay reached for Dane, but the impulse never made it to his hand.
“Don’t worry,” the woman said. “It’ll get easier once you learn. I’ll be there to teach you this time.”
“Lindsay…” Dane said his name, trying to reach for him, but that was all. Lindsay watched him wind
down like a toy. His eyes were open, but all the light drained from his face. It was as though he’d simply
left his body there and gone somewhere else.
“Let’s all stay very calm.” The voice in Lindsay’s head was cool and precise. “Making a scene will
just get people hurt.”
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Lindsay could feel his magic still working, but there was a power more controlled than his behind it
now. He felt empty and limp, like a puppet. It was a sensation so familiar that he could hardly fight it.
“It’s time to come home,” the woman said. Not the woman. The girl. Lourdes.
Somewhere, Lindsay was screaming in terror and outrage, but it never went beyond that small place
deep inside where he’d been locked the whole time he was at the Institute.
“Don’t run.” There was hot breath on Lindsay’s hair and big hands on his shoulders. The voice was
horribly familiar. Jonas. “Let’s get you someplace safe.”
Lindsay tried to struggle, but he couldn’t fight himself. His body wasn’t here anymore, and his mind
was gone as well. He was a walking dead man.
“Dramatic, but accurate.” There was laughter in Lourdes’s thoughts. “Hush. If one of us slips while
we’re playing this game, it could kill us all.”
Lindsay knew he was walking, being guided by Jonas’s hands on his shoulders. Dane followed behind
like a dog.
Could kill us. Lindsay was willing to make that sacrifice. He gathered his courage.
“All of us?” Lourdes’s thoughts were a chiding tap on Lindsay’s soul. “Even him?”
Lindsay had a flash of awareness that Lourdes had her mind on both of them. She felt impossibly
powerful. Under the moment of horror and awe, he felt that she was having trouble holding on to Dane.
The mind could make up hope from nothing.
“Why don’t you both come this way?” There was a nearly invisible door in the wall that led off to a
service hall, easily missed until now. A beautiful young woman in an airline uniform stood there, holding
the door for the three of them. “Jonas, if you’d escort our friend to the car, I’ll make sure Dane joins us. It is Dane, still, isn’t it?” She gave Dane a bright smile as though he could see her, as though he’d answered.
“I thought so.” She held out her hand and he came to her, letting her take his hand.
Jonas steered Lindsay toward the door and his claws slid through Lindsay’s clothes to dig into
Lindsay’s shoulders. “Feel free to try that game of yours on me again, little man,” he murmured. “Any time
you like.” Trickles ran down Lindsay’s arms under his sleeves.
Why couldn’t Ezqel have let Jonas die?
Jonas laughed softly as he guided Lindsay through the long, white hall under the strings of fluorescent
lights. “Too bad you can’t fight, pretty. Worse that I have to keep you in one piece. I’d like to take you apart in front of our friend here.” He rumbled, sounding so much like Dane. “He died too soon last time,
would have missed the whole thing.” His breath was sweet against Lindsay’s cheek. “He did die last time. I
remember it now. Can’t wait to do it again.”
“If you’re good.” Lourdes’s voice was light, floating in the stale air of the hall. “If I have to kill him
to keep him quiet, you don’t get to. Can’t you watch your paws? The smell of his little friend’s blood is
making him harder to handle. I’d rather kill Dane now, but I’m trying to be civil to you. Do you think
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Cyrus could grow a new dog if we sent him the head? I’d know that already if you’d let me cut yours off,
Jonas.”
Jonas laughed again. “Let’s see what you have to give me before we talk about me giving you
anything, girl.”
Please don’t hurt Dane. Lindsay had watched Dane die once already. He never wanted to see
anything like that as long as he lived. He reached for his magic, heart racing with fear and anger when it
still wasn’t there for him to use. The place where it was, here and not here at once, was empty.
“Has to happen sometime, Lindsay,” Lourdes said blithely. “He’s done too much damage. We can’t
keep him. He is a lot prettier now, so I see why you’d be upset. Did he put on that pretty face just for you?
Underneath, he’s just a flea-bitten old thing. We’ll get you a nicer dog. Nicer than Jonas, even. Look.”
There were stairs that led down, and a pair of tall, solemn men, twins, stood waiting on the landing.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Lourdes said cheerfully. “Lindsay, meet Hesham and Mahesh. They’ll be taking care
of you. I know how much you like being cared for and I wouldn’t take something away from you without
replacing it with something better. I’m sure Dr. Moore will let you keep them.” The two men bowed in
unison, extending their hands to Lindsay.
They looked like corpses, fallow skin tight over dry bones; they smelled of cedar and sandalwood and
roses and dust. Lindsay tried to back away from their reaching hands, even though it put him in Jonas’s