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  I blinked hard. He was still there. So was Eli, standing to my side.

  Not a hallucination, then.

  “. . . understand me?” Krogher asked. “I thought you said he’d be clear by now.”

  “He is,” Eli said. “Just about now.”

  “This is your last day,” Krogher said. “We’ll be letting you go, Mr. Conley.”

  “Go?” I asked, my voice a shadow in the room. That didn’t seem right. They were letting me go? I looked up at Eli. He raised his eyebrows. That didn’t help me much.

  “Where?”

  “We are relocating you, Mr. Conley,” Krogher said. “Of course.”

  Of course. Which meant not at all. I might be drugged out of my brain, but I wasn’t stupid.

  “But first, we must be certain that none of this will ever become a problem for us,” Krogher said. “Mr. Collins, please proceed.”

  This was a problem. I knew what they were doing—making sure I never talked about any of this. If I were the one calling the shots, I’d know exactly how I’d achieve that goal.

  “My pleasure,” Eli said. Krogher walked out of the cage, his footsteps a fading echo across the walls and ceiling as he left.

  “So,” Eli said once he was sure Krogher was gone. “I am going to Close you, Terric. Wipe out all your memories. You know the most delightful thing about all this? It is up to me. It is in my hands to decide what you become. I can mold you. I can break you. Give you a good life, make every day a worthless, living hell. I am your god.”

  He smiled. “I have to say it is not a bad position to have landed in. But before I Close you, I want you clear and sober. I want you to really understand exactly what I’m doing to you. Would you like some coffee?”

  He turned and I heard the rising treble of liquid filling a cup, smelled the rich, warm scent of coffee. My mouth watered. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. Couldn’t even remember water. Glanced at my arm. Cotton and tape there where an IV had been attached.

  How long had I been here?

  “What day is it?” I asked.

  Eli strolled over and set the coffee down on a table next to the cot where I sat. He took the only chair in the cage, turned it to face the cot, and slurped the hot edge off his cup before sitting down.

  “Wednesday.”

  “What month?”

  “March.” He watched me as he took another drink of coffee. Then, “Just one Wednesday since I pulled you out of your kitchen, as a matter of fact.”

  I was sitting, but my hands were no longer chained. I reached over, picked up the coffee, trying to keep it steady and not spill. My feet were free. I wore loose pants like something found in a prison or hospital, and a white T-shirt. I was barefoot and the floor was smooth, concrete, and cold.

  One Wednesday. I tried to think through the implications of that.

  Lifting the coffee was almost more than I could manage, but I didn’t spill it as I drew it toward my mouth. I shouldn’t be this strong. Not after what he’d done to me.

  “It’s been months,” I said. I took a sip and held my breath against the pleasure and pain of it. I felt like I hadn’t eaten in years. “At least that.”

  “Yes, at least that,” he said, enjoying my confusion. “It seems like such a long time you and I have spent together. And yet . . . something tells you that’s wrong. So. Do you have it? Do you understand it yet?”

  The stone-on-steel sound that woke me. The burnt disk. I hadn’t been sleeping. I’d been wrapped in magic.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Time,” I said. “You cast Time.”

  “Head of the class. I guess I didn’t scramble your brain as much as I thought I did. What has been months for you, six, if you’d like to know, has been only days. Six, as a matter of fact.”

  He’d cast Time and held the spell so we experienced a month a day. That was very precise work, something only a genius magic user would even try to attempt.

  To break the spell and land us back in the correct flow of reality’s time took a deft touch. And apparently blew the hell out of a Beckstrom disk.

  No wonder Eli looked so tired. Holding that spell for nearly a week would exhaust anyone. I just hoped it had exhausted him enough to make him sloppy.

  “And since I’m locking your life away in a box and melting down the key, I thought I’d tell you everything,” he said. “Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you. Think of it as my way of thanking you for not dying before I was done with you. Ask.”

  “How many people, spell holders are there?”

  “Really, Terric? Business to the end? Save the world at all costs? I’d expected more from you.”

  “How many?”

  “Drones? Just under a hundred. Each topped off with magic and showing no signs of decay.”

  “Who are they targeting first?”

  “Soul Complements. Don’t you remember me saying so? Maybe you were too . . .” He made the circle motion by his ear.

  “When?”

  “I believe I’ll be briefed on that today. But if I had to guess?” He swallowed coffee. “Immediately. Krogher and his division don’t like loose ends left behind. And they most certainly do not like people out in the world who can break magic and use it as a deadly weapon. Company motto: Sooner the enemy is dead, the better.”

  “Did you kill Davy?”

  “No. I did much worse than that to him.”

  “What? What did you do to him?”

  “I triggered spells carved into him so that he is no longer solid. No longer a real boy. He begged me. Begged me to let him go. So I did. Maybe not the way he wanted me to, but I think he got what he deserved. He is no longer bound to this world. Magic gave him a way out, as only magic can. If you know what I mean, Terric?”

  He waited, studying my face. I had no idea what he meant. But then, madmen aren’t easy conversationalists.

  “Anything else?” He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “We are running a little behind schedule and I’d hate to keep the government waiting.”

  “Did you kill Shame?”

  He paused, cup tipped halfway to his mouth.

  “Oh yes. Very much so. I shot him. Over and over again. Until I saw him fall. Until I saw him take his last breath. You should know. You should have felt the snap of your soul from his, a bone break so deep the pain blinds. Did you feel that, Terric? Did you feel his soul and life severed from you?”

  He had asked me that before. This time I answered.

  “Yes,” I whispered, the memory of that moment, of watching, feeling Shame die burning like acid across my mind. “I just wanted to hear it from your lips,” I said. “Wanted to hear that you killed him. Because after this is done—these orders of yours—I’m going to find you, and I’m going to kill you, Eli. It doesn’t matter what you do to me. Doesn’t matter if you Close my mind, take magic away, wipe my memories. I will find you. And then you’ll be dead.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Wouldn’t that be something? I’d like you to try, Terric. Truly, I would. At least it would be something to look forward to.” He took another drink of his coffee. “Now we really must get on with it. Let’s have at it, shall we?”

  “One last thing,” I said. “There’s no house and job at the end of this for me, is there?”

  He shrugged. “You’ll think there is.” He tapped his temple. “That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

  I gripped my coffee cup tighter. He’d have to touch me to Close me. I’d have one chance at this. At knocking him out. At escape.

  Eli stood.

  Be tired, Eli. Be sloppy.

  The shadows shifted outside the bars of my cage. A man stood just outside, shuffling forward as if sleepwalking. One of the drones. He held his hands palm out in front of him, thumb and forefinger touching.

 
I’d seen drones like him before. When Shame and I had tried to stop Eli from taking Davy. When Shame and I had tried to stop Krogher from killing Dessa. When Shame and I had failed.

  The drone would be the power behind Eli’s spell. But there would be no spell if Eli had a concussion. Hard to concentrate on spell casting when your brain was bleeding.

  One more step.

  Eli stopped, just outside my reach. Began drawing the spell.

  My heart was pounding. I’d drawn that spell a hundred times before. I’d taken people’s memories away; I’d taken away their ability to use magic. I knew what kind of concentration went into it.

  Closing was not as easy as it looked. As a matter of fact, being a Closer was one of the hardest positions to hold in the Authority.

  But I had no doubt that Eli could pull it off. In his right mind. Refreshed.

  I gripped the cup, waited for that moment in the spell where he would have to draw the doorway, the opening between his mind and mine. It was a door that only the caster had the key to. I watched his movement so I would know his signature, know his exact lines and style of casting this spell.

  So I would know the shape of the key that could set me free.

  There. He set the lock, drew the key.

  I surged to my feet. Swung with every ounce of strength I had.

  Just as the spell triggered.

  Just as magic broke free like water from a dam, blasting out from the drone outside the bars and into Eli’s spell.

  The mug slammed into Eli’s head with a satisfying crack.

  His spell opened its maw and swallowed my mind.

  But not before I saw Eli fall, bloody. Unconscious.

  And then I was nothing but what the magic wanted me to be.

  I was no one.

  Chapter 14

  SHAME

  The problem with falling is that there is always something to hit at the bottom.

  I hit a fist.

  Or rather, a fist hit me. Pounded my chest, broke a rib. Took another shot. Broke two.

  Holy shit, that hurt.

  Someone was yelling, cursing. Taking my name in vain. I didn’t know who I’d pissed off, but there wasn’t nobody having any fun here today.

  “Fuck,” I gasped, “you.”

  The beating paused. A woman’s voice filtered through the hell in my head.

  “Shame? Are you alive? You’d better stay with me, you son of a bitch, or I will carve you a new one.”

  Sunny. Sounded like Sunny. I wanted to open my eyes to find out, but it was everything—and trust me when I say everything—I had just to fill my lungs with enough air it could wheeze out of me.

  Where the hell was I?

  “Just keep breathing,” she said as if that was an easy thing. “Dash! Get your ass in here. He’s alive.”

  I thought she might be jumping the gun a bit on that one. I wasn’t even remotely close to alive yet. Hell, the jury was still out on breathing.

  “Jesus,” Dash said. “Get this under his head. Here.”

  There was some movement around me, but I still couldn’t see Jack, and couldn’t feel squat.

  “Hello?” yet another voice called out. Took me a second to place it. Finally got it. Cody Miller. The one guy I always got into the most trouble with back in the day. “You two find anything? What are you doing?”

  “Calling nine-one-one,” Davy said.

  “Don’t bother,” Cody said. “They wouldn’t know what to do for him.”

  “He’s dying, Cody,” Dash said.

  “No,” Cody said thoughtfully. “I think he’s way past that.”

  “Can you help him?” Sunny asked. “Cody, do you know of some way to help him?” She sounded angry, but also a little worried. I might have thought it was sweet if I didn’t also know she’d been the one slugging me repeatedly in the chest just a second ago.

  Where the hell was I?

  The lungs were working slightly better, though I couldn’t get more than a mouthful of air down into either one of them. The rest of me either was numb or felt like crap.

  Time to give the eyes a try again.

  One, and a two . . .

  Got it. Kind of. Was rewarded with blurry light. Then Dash’s face, screwed up with concern, hovering over me. “I’m calling nine-one-one.”

  “Give him a minute,” Cody said. “He’s almost back.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Dash said.

  “I am saying, he’s almost got it,” Cody said. “The hang of living. Well, when I say living . . .”

  Shame? Eleanor floated over from across the room. Remember why you’re here. You have to live. You have to save the world, save Terric, save . . . everything. This is what you came back for. So live.

  There was something different about her, something I should remember. Oh, right. She was free. She was no longer tied to me.

  That’s right, she said. I took the jump with you. But I’m here on my own terms now. You need to draw on life, on something, Shame, or you’re corpsing out.

  “Go,” I wheezed, trying to warn her, “away.”

  Dash backed up. So did Cody. But Eleanor didn’t move away quick enough.

  The hunger inside me was mindless, wild. Any life would do—it just had to be close to me.

  No. Not Eleanor. Not again.

  I fought for control, desperate not to hurt her.

  She didn’t have much life in her, but she was an energy. And she was in the hunger’s reach.

  No!

  The magic in me, Death, was too strong. It snapped out, wrapped around her neck, pulled her down to me, and drank her up.

  I heard her scream. Tried to let go of her, tried not to tie her soul to me.

  And then I couldn’t hear anything anymore because everything in me caught fire at the same time, all nerves firing, screaming. I’d be joining the chorus, only I didn’t have air for it, and was pretty sure I was rattling around on the floor—kitchen floor—seizing like a mother.

  Good times.

  Something turned out the lights. Maybe just the overload of pain. Maybe Sunny punched my clock, bless her violent little heart.

  I woke up in a bed—my bed. I was naked, clean sheets around me, a pillow under my head. Didn’t want to move and ruin the moment, but my face itched like a million ants were swarming over it.

  I lifted my right hand to try to push some of the ants off the side of my face. My hand didn’t make it that far.

  “Hey, Shame,” Cody said from somewhere to my right. “I thought you might be waking up soon. Welcome back.”

  I gave up on making my hand do what I wanted it to do. “I feel like shit.”

  “You should. You died.” Cody was sitting in the chair, his feet on the wooden crate of ammo I used as a nightstand.

  Right. I thought I’d heard something about that. Seemed to remember there being a bar or something. “Swell,” I whispered. “How long?”

  “As near as we can tell, you haven’t been breathing for a week. The bullet holes look at least that old. Well, they did. Since you came to, you’ve healed. Well, you aren’t bleeding and all the bullets were expelled, which isn’t quite the same as healing, but it did seem to help you breathe better. You look like hell on a half shell, though.”

  I heard him, I really did. But my brain simply refused to process most of what he was saying.

  I’d died. Why didn’t I stay dead?

  Eleanor floated up behind him. She was almost completely see-through. A black rope around her throat tied her to me.

  No. I didn’t mean to . . . not again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “God, I’m so sorry.”

  She flipped me off with both hands. Then she floated as far away from me as she could reach, arms crossed over her chest, turning her back toward m
e.

  I’d seen her like that so many times over the years. She was angry. At me.

  And she had every right to be. I hadn’t meant to consume her again, to tie her soul to me. But I hadn’t been strong enough to stop it from happening either.

  “Shame?” Cody asked. “Are you okay? You’re staring at me.”

  “I’m not okay.”

  “Can I—” he said.

  “No. Nothing.” I glanced at Eleanor one last time. Didn’t know what I could do to fix what I’d done. Didn’t want to talk to Cody about it. “I need to take a leak.”

  He pointed to the left. “Bathroom’s that way.”

  “I know. This is my house, you idiot.” I pushed at the sheet. It resisted my attempts to move it.

  Jesus, I was tired.

  “I heard talking,” Dash said as he walked into the room. “Shame, why are you moving? You shouldn’t be moving. Dr. Fischer is on the way. Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Bathroom,” I said. I’d pushed the sheet down to my waist and was working on sliding a leg over to the edge of the bed.

  “Here.” Dash stepped to the side of the bed and half hauled, half supported me out of it. He didn’t say anything about me being naked and dead, and I was too naked and dead to care.

  Got me to the bathroom. I tackled the problem of the toilet by propping one elbow on the towel rack and trying not to pass out.

  Having managed that, I decided to go for the gold.

  Turned toward the shower. Who in their right mind built a shower three miles away from the toilet? Didn’t care. I was going to wash this pain, blood, sweat, and hell off me, no matter how long it took for me to do it.

  “. . . got it,” Dash said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, his arm around my waist as he helped me toward the shower. “Almost there.”

  “Dash,” I said as we crept ever closer and closer to the shower, which was already on and steaming up the room. Strange. No, Cody was over there, putting something in the shower. A plastic patio chair? What the hell?