FoM02 Trammel (31 page)

“Let’s get ready.”

Noah parked the van as far from the lights as he could, but left it running. Kristan would come take his place when he got out. He tucked his hand into Lindsay’s and held on.

“So, what’s my illusion this time?” He managed to come up with a smile for Lindsay.

“Any preferences?” Lindsay smiled back at him, but it looked strained. “I take requests.”

“Just don’t distract me.” Noah squeezed Lindsay’s hand. “Which leaves out the naked pictures of you.

Anything that works for you. A piece of jewelry or a watch, something that won’t look too odd from the outside if I see it or fiddle with it before I remember not to do that.”

Lindsay looked down at their hands and turned Noah’s so that it lay palm up in his. His expression was a study in concentration, as though he were searching for something under Noah’s skin. His fingers were frigid and pale against Noah’s dark skin when he laid them over the inside of Noah’s wrist.

“You made me a garden of them once.” Lindsay revealed a red-gold rose on Noah’s wrist, like a tattoo, but made of his magic. Noah remembered his mother’s garden, alight with magic on the blooms, and the fire roses he’d brought to the empty gym where Lindsay let him touch his magic without fear.

“I’ll plant you a real garden of them someday,” he promised.

He unbuckled his seatbelt to turn and cup Lindsay’s sweet face in both hands. Lindsay’s lips were cool and soft when they kissed. He hardly registered the sound of the van door sliding open as the others got out. Lindsay wasn’t just the reason he was going in; Lindsay was his reason to come out alive.

“I think we scared them off,” Lindsay whispered. He didn’t give Noah a chance to answer before he was wriggling out of his seatbelt and sliding across to kiss him again.

Whatever the reason, Noah didn’t care. He slipped one arm around Lindsay, holding him close and kissing him like he could somehow imprint on Lindsay the promise that he would be back. He knew Lindsay would blame himself for anything going wrong, and that was the last thing Lindsay needed.

“The bus is here,” someone outside murmured. Slowly, Lindsay pulled back.

“Let’s get this done.” Noah kissed him one more time, a soft kiss on the mouth. “I’ll trade off with one of the passengers. Make sure the driver opens the door.”

He got out of the van and checked that he had nothing on him, no cash, nothing that could identify him, no crumpled receipts in the bottoms of his pockets. Nothing but the tattoo that was visible to him and no one else.

“I’ll go ahead,” he said as Lindsay got out of the van. “See if you can see through me and speak to me for sure.”

“Remember not to answer me out loud.”
It was Lindsay’s voice whispering in his ear, but it was no more real than the rose on his wrist.

“I won’t forget
.
”

Noah had no idea if Lindsay heard him or not, but all that mattered was that Lindsay could keep track of things. He looked over his shoulder one more time. Lindsay would ensure he wasn’t seen, Ylli would grab whoever came off the bus, and all he had to do was board, liberate some poor sod, and let the rest happen. He wasn’t good at the last part, but he’d manage.

“I’m with you. You’re good to go.”

The door of the bus opened and a guard stepped out, walking over to the pump. The door stayed open.

Noah took the steps all at once, and slipped past the oblivious driver. It was eerie, like a dream, to be walking around invisible to everyone. The passengers were all quiet, mostly sleeping, some staring blankly out the windows. Noah knew what stoned looked like, and that was it. There was a passenger three rows back who seemed about his height and weight; better yet, the guy was wearing a hooded sweatshirt that he had pulled up so it was hard to see his face.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Noah muttered. The man stank of sweat and cigarettes, and he lolled limply as Noah stripped the sweatshirt off of him. Noah tugged it on and got the man’s arm around his neck, heaving him to his feet.

To Noah’s surprise, the man half-woke but didn’t get belligerent. Mumbling cheerfully, he let Noah walk him to the steps. The two guards sitting next to the steps didn’t look up from their respective smart phones; Lindsay’s illusion was working. From the flicker and glow of the screens, Noah guessed that one was playing a game and the other was reading.

“So, what’s your name?” It was worth a try, and Noah had no idea if they’d bothered to take names and keep a headcount.

The slurred reply sounded something like “Alex King”. Noah would take it. If he pretended to be as heavily influenced as this guy, he could have gotten away with “King Kong”.

Noah let Ylli pull the man off the bus, then went and took his place. It was hard to feign the boneless sag and dull reaction of someone drugged when adrenaline was flooding his brain, but Noah made himself relax. He focused on the rose on his right wrist, on the glow of it and the shading of the petals.

When the guard who had been pumping gas got back on and took his seat behind the driver, Noah’s heart tried to climb up his throat. He couldn’t risk any kind of reaction, couldn’t screw this up for everyone because he got a case of nerves. The mental exercises from his childhood were familiar enough that he drew on them to keep his mind busy while a guard from the back—one he hadn’t seen—started a slow walk up the aisle.

The bus rumbled and lurched, and pulled away from the pumps, heading back onto the highway.

Noah’s seatmate sat up a little, but Noah couldn’t see what caused it. The downside to having his face obscured was giving up his vision.

“Relax there, buddy,” the guard said reassuringly. “Not much farther to go.”

When his seatmate settled down, Noah realized he’d been holding his breath. Not much farther to go.

Out the window, their destination looked like any other industrial park lined in grass and trees to make it seem less imposing. A curving two-lane road took them past parking lots and buildings that would have been at home on a university campus.

The bus pulled to a stop in front of one of the lower buildings, one with a single row of parking spaces out front. Instead of cars, there were people standing in the parking spaces, some with white lab coats and others who looked similar to the men from Wildwood that Lindsay had called—

“Hounds. Be careful, Noah.”

No chance he was going to be anything but careful. The guards were coming up the aisle, waking passengers. Every once in a while, Noah heard a sharp hiss, like something from a compression canister. As he stumbled to his feet in response to a cuff from a guard, he caught a glimpse of what made the noise. It looked like a small can of pepper spray, but whatever came out couldn’t be smelled on the air. Where the person was sprayed, their skin went white like frostbite and they jerked like it was painful.

Noah wasn’t sticking around to see more. It was effective, he had to give them that. Maybe it was like cold water to the face. He hoped that was all it was.

Off the bus and on his feet, Noah felt a great pressure bearing down on him, the weight of magic.

Elementalists were always more inclined to feel magic, even to see it. The air was thick with it, like he was swimming in honey. It was thicker here than it had been where he’d found Ylli and Zoey. It clung and flowed around him, drawn in by his power and Lindsay’s.

A wild sound like a hyena’s hacking laugh coming from a human throat startled Noah, and he stumbled back into a cluster of other passengers, trying to stay close so he wouldn’t be singled out. Without warning, one, then two of the Hounds came at him, dropping from two legs to four, bodies and faces becoming more feral with every bound. He could see it in their mad eyes.
They know
.

The scientists and guards were shouting, scrambling and scattering, trying to restore order. Someone screamed and the jumpy man who had been Noah’s seatmate bolted from the group. The motion must have triggered some primal animal instinct in the Hounds because they changed course and more of them broke free to join the chase.

It was over in moments. Noah didn’t count more than seven strides before the Hounds took him down, no more than two heartbeats before the screaming stopped. Armed men in uniform flooded the parking lot.

Some surrounded the new arrivals, including Noah, and herded them away as the rest attempted to bring the Hounds to heel. The howls from the Hounds sounded like the baying of hunting dogs.

Noah looked back in time to see one break away from the scrum and come barreling at him. There was a light in its eyes that said more than language that it knew the truth of what he was, and he bit back his magic with every scrap of discipline he could muster. It leapt and would have cleared the guards except for the tasers that struck it, one after the other. Writhing, it hit the ground only feet away, and Noah could see the blood that covered its forelegs to the elbows and its long, feral face to the hairline. The sound of its teeth snapping and its claws raking asphalt was chilling.

Noah crammed down his gut reaction and turned away, following the guards as all the passengers were shuffled through a pair of gray doors set in the side of the building. He didn’t want to let emotion get the better of him, for his own sake and for Lindsay’s. He was fine.
“I’m fine
.
”

He kept telling himself that as they were led into what looked like the room where he’d taken the written exam for his driver’s license. The last thing he needed was for his magic to betray him now.

There were white-coated scientists with clipboards that held forms to be filled out by the “applicants”, everything down to salary expectations. He watched the others, docile and obedient, and realized quickly that they didn’t give a damn what you put down. They did like you to sign on the dotted line. Alex King was happy to do that for them.

It all felt like a slippery slope, as much as Noah tried to keep his mind on the goal, telling himself that the deeper he fell, the closer he was to winning. That kept him calm through losing his clothes in return for a hospital gown and having his head shaved.

“Saves us from having to pick up clippers
,
”
he noted dryly, for Lindsay’s sake. He was weighed and prodded, and he was just starting to feel calm when a pair of technicians in vanilla jumpers came in with a tray of syringes.

Vaccinations?

“I’m going to guess it’s not tetanus shots in those
.
”

“No. Not tetanus.”
Lindsay’s voice was flat the way it got when they were talking about something he didn’t like. The injection felt like fire going in and Lindsay hissed inside Noah’s head.
“Nothing changes,
does it? But you’re going to be all right, Noah. I promise.”

The technicians went past him, working their way back. Noah turned his attention to the first men to get their shots and watched one of them swaying.

“Yeah. I thought so. I think our broadcast is about to be disrupted
.
”
The room started spinning slowly. Noah turned his attention inward, closing his eyes to shut out the blurred room, and called up what heat he could muster.
“Metabolism is just another kind of combustion, right?”

“I’ll be with you all the way.”
Lindsay felt miles away, but the words were something Noah could cling to as he fought to hold on to consciousness.

The world turned into a stuttering slide show as Noah slipped in and out of consciousness. There were hands on him, and he was cold with something steel under his bare back. He was in a barn. No. Something huge and chilled, but he could hear animals. The rattle of metal on metal was a cage door being slammed shut. He was still moving, and they were talking.

They left him and, with nothing to hold on to, he slipped into the dark. A howl brought him back up and he had the sudden impression of being in a dog pound.

Hounds
.

Now, with his body limp and out of his control, he panicked.
This can’t happen
. They were back and he fought down his fear. Hands were on him, his legs and shoulders. He was hefted up and tumbled into a metal box. They were talking about him, but the words didn’t make sense. To him. They would make sense to Lindsay.

Hybrid
.
Balancing strains
.
Inscribed cell cultures
. Noah let himself fade until he was only a ghost in the back of his own mind, so Lindsay could listen. They were putting something in him, cutting and

stitching, like he was a doll. When the door closed, he could feel that same fire again, creeping out from that point.

“Help me
.
”
Noah needed to wake up. He needed something to burn away the poison leaking into his veins.
“Don’t let me sleep
.
”
He needed to make sure they weren’t already doing something to him.

“I’ve got you.”
Lindsay’s cool fingers were on his forehead, except that they weren’t, and Noah could feel the pull of his magic being drawn up inside him. The heat of it flowed under his skin, pushing back the chill of the medication.

Nothing was as terrifying as being helpless in the face of something awful. He was ashamed of not being stronger. Without knowing how, he was aware that Lindsay had been through this in some way. He could survive—Lindsay had.

“I’m sorry this happened to you
.” Anything else he might have felt was lost the next moment.

Fever kept Noah from sinking into unconsciousness, but it distorted his perception until he felt as though he had been locked in the cage for days on end. The thought that he had been surrendered to the pound like a dog nagged him and became confused with the reality that his father had sent him to Cyrus.

He knew Lindsay was with him and imagined Lindsay standing outside his cage, looking in.

Finally, even if his mind couldn’t focus, his body acted, and he drifted into consciousness to find broken tubing clenched in his right hand and cool liquid pooling on his skin.

I’m awake
.

His magic felt like a limb that had fallen asleep—only when pain came did he realize the magic working through his veins was his, but not in his control. Lindsay held it for him, separated him from it by some illusion he couldn’t understand, and kept it burning through his blood. The world grew clearer by the moment, like dawn had come.