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.
Opening his eyes, he found that he could see—he had only imagined that the lights were out. There was the rattle of a gurney and voices drew close, so he turned his back to the cage door and hid the broken IV lines under him. His body was burning off the sedative, and he could flex his muscles now, enough that he thought he could stand.