A clatter of feet stomped down the stairs and Pete pushed me away. He slumped against the wall. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”
George yelled something at Pete, and we shared a quick gaze before I turned and hurried away. I kept my hand against my neck. The bite would heal fast, but the blood would show. I stripped off my shirt as I climbed the dark stairway, Pete’s shouts echoing against the walls from below, chasing me upward.
I pressed my shirt against my neck, wiped it several times and checked the bite with my fingers. No more blood. I didn’t want to get Pete into any more trouble than what George would give him. He hadn’t meant to hurt me, and he wouldn’t do it again. I was sure of it.
He was going to be okay now. I just had a feeling.
My handler all but purred his approval.
*_*_*
“What are you picking up off her?”
The voice was cultured, smooth like amaretto over ice. Almost sweet until you felt the afterburn reminding you that it could take you to dark places.
Three under-handlers straightened their backs, all at the same time. “She was attacked by the Magelore, boss.”
“And?”
“She’s worried about getting him into trouble,” Ernest said. He’d not been in her mind during the attack, but he was not going to admit to that.
His boss rolled his shoulders as if easing a huge weight. “She has not broken from her desire to help people.”
“No, she hasn’t. Not once.”
“Strange for such a monster to have a tender side. I wonder if we can use it to drive her to do as we wish?” The wide-shouldered Gardreel put his hands on the younger man’s far narrower shoulders.
The younger man touched the nametag on his shirt. A human name. Ernest. A frown rippled what was otherwise an otherworldly beautiful face. His face was perfect, but that name was not and he hated it.
He cleared his throat. “You think perhaps she would help us find the rest now?”
“Not exactly,” his boss said.
Ernest closed his eyes and flexed his fingers, feeling his way through the abnormal woman’s mind. She was very strong, but the work they’d done had buried her powers deeply, lacing them up tightly. He doubted she’d ever be able to touch them again. Which was good, but it didn’t fully solve the problem they were dealing with.
“She’s back in her room,” he said, and opened his eyes to see his boss staring down at him. “What would you like me to do?”
“She’s done nothing wrong, but I have a feeling,” his boss said. “She’s . . . cagey. I don’t believe she is fully broken.”
Another of the techs—as the doctors called them—cleared her throat. “I could have Esther watch her.” Her nametag said Susan. She hated her name too. But then, they all did. That was the thing about being trapped in this place. This human, filthy place. They were doing what they had to, but none of them liked it.
Susan ran her thumb across her fingers. “She’d be willing. They were friends before, but something happened, and Esther doesn’t care for her now.”
Esther had held out the longest of all the abnormals here. Fiona—or Phoenix as she’d once thought of herself—had broken first, the process so easy, they’d all been suspicious. But no one could hold out against the reprogramming for almost a year, not even a supposedly legendary abnormal like her. Even if she’d been playing them in the beginning, there was no way she could be now.
After spending so much time in Fiona’s head, and a little in Esther’s to give Susan a break here and there, Ernest was fairly sure he knew why Esther didn’t like Fiona. They had fought side by side once, and he suspected that Esther had expected Fiona to help them all break out. That they would work together once again.
And Fiona was the first to bend to the handler’s touch.
To Esther, that was a complete and utter betrayal.
He thought about sharing his beliefs with Gardreel, but it would not be welcome if he was not asked.
“You doubt my ability to hold her mind?” Ernest asked.
Susan’s already pale skin went a shade whiter. “Of course not.”
“I would know if she were being cagey,” Ernest spoke to Gardreel. “She only ever thinks of others, and while that is not exactly our programming, there is nothing wrong with it. She is harmless. Like a kitten with its claws trimmed.”
The boss didn’t move, but the room went quiet and the tension climbed exponentially. “You think my impression of her is wrong? I have spent time in her head, as have you.”
Now it was Ernest’s turn to pale. “Of course not, Gardreel.”
“Then watch her. Dig deeper, dig harder. We need to be sure she is broken so we can rebuild her to use as we see fit. The time is coming. The spell is nearly ready.” The First Handler’s sharp blue eyes swept over the three techs. There were more techs in other rooms, but too many together and the control of their subjects became . . . difficult.
Gardreel swept out of the room without another word and Ernest slumped a little in his chair. Susan leaned over. “I did not mean an offense, friend.”
Ernest shook his head. “I know. He stresses me out.”
She smiled and laughed. “You sound like a human.”
“I feel like one sometimes.” He rubbed a hand over his face and closed his eyes. He needed a moment before he dove back into Fiona’s head. Most of the handlers were given ten to twelve abnormals to watch, read, report back on, and handle.
But some of the abnormals required more oversight.
In this room were three handlers attached to the three most dangerous abnormals. Esther. Pete. Fiona.
Phoenix. He shuddered, a tremor running through him as he thought of her real name, seeing her as the bird of myth and legend, wings of fire, bright like the sun. To be burned to ash, only to rise from the flames and live again, stronger than before.
Another tremor caught him off guard as his skin rose in tiny bumps all along his arms. He rubbed his hands over them, trying to scare them away.
“You okay?” Jessica asked. As the third tech in the room, she had both the hardest, and strangely, the easiest job.
Magelores were impossible to break. But Jessica had wanted to try before Pete was euthanized. Such a nice word for what would ultimately happen to the abnormals too powerful to be controlled. Jessica was exempt from any repercussions if she couldn’t reach the Magelore, and she got definite perks for trying the impossible.
If Ernest got it wrong with Fiona, he would not be so lucky.
He swallowed hard. “I’m glad he’s not here all the time. He—”
“Stresses you out?” Susan offered, repeating back to him his own words, as if she’d just thought of it.
There was no answering smile from Ernest. “Yes.”
Susan leaned over and tapped him on one shoulder, a touch of solidarity. “You are too invested in your case. Do you want to swap? Just for today? We are both capable of handling each other’s charges.”
Ernest looked at her, really seeing her. She was trying to be his friend. Something they were discouraged from having here. But he could use . . . a friend. “Yes. For tonight, let’s swap.”
He would have a break from the feeling like he was drowning in flames every time he touched Phoenix’s—no, Fiona’s—mind, and perhaps that feeling of stress would ease.