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to obey, he stepped back to stand behind Lindsay.
The fear was still there as Lindsay stared at himself. He could see his too-pale face and his wide eyes.
And right then, it changed. He could see himself, younger, standing in front of his father. It wasn’t until the flames started that Lindsay realized what he was watching.
His manifestation.
In an instant, he wasn’t watching anymore. He was there, listening to his father’s screams and
smelling the sickly-sweetness of his father’s burnt flesh. “I’m sorry,” he tried to say, but nothing came out.
His lips didn’t even move.
By the time his mother burst through the door, his confusion was gone. He was immersed, living the
scene all over again, stammering his frightened explanations like the first time.
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There was a flash of light, and Lindsay’s parents were gone, his bedroom was gone, and Lindsay was
back in Ezqel’s tower. He wasn’t seventeen anymore, and the man in the room with him was Ezqel, not his
father. His heart was racing like it had been in the past, and his knees were weak.
Lindsay had to hang onto the mirror to keep from falling and that let the mirror suck him right back
in. This time, he knew what was happening as he fell into the past. He was ru
wrapped around his shoulder, stopping him and jerking him around.
All he got was a glimpse of his father’s face before the white light dropped him back into Ezqel’s
tower. Then it was the sterile green and white of the Institute, his father’s big hand on his shoulder again.
“Fix him,” Lindsay’s father said. “Get rid of it. All of it.”
A doctor in a white lab coat nodded, writing something on the clipboard in her other hand. “We’ll
take care of it. Thank you, Mr. Carrington.”
There was a flash again, too fast for Lindsay to escape. The sharp sting of the intravenous line going
in, and the drugs were pumping into him. Lindsay screamed, couldn’t stop screaming. It felt like pure fire
flowing through his veins and eating up everything in its wake.
“Calm down,” someone said. A technician in a white jumper. “Give the meds time to work. It’ll all
feel better soon.”
Lindsay’s magic bubbled up inside him as he fought the drugs, fought to stay in control of himself,
but as they ate their way through his system, his control faltered. He couldn’t hold on. His magic seemed so far away, so dull and useless. Even when he managed to find it within himself, he couldn’t make it work.
Another flash left Lindsay in the observation room of the Institute, strapped to the gurney, stripped of
his clothes and his magic. “Make it rain,” the doctor said. “Do you hear me, Lindsay? Make it rain in the
room.”
Hope sparked in Lindsay’s chest. Would his magic work? Could he use it to get away? He reached for
it, finding the silky trail of it deep inside himself, but when he grasped it and tried to pull it to the surface, tried to use it, his magic slipped away.
“Do you see, on the monitors?” The doctor wasn’t talking to him anymore. Her voice was quieter, as
though it was an accident that the microphone was still picking her up. She was talking to someone else.
Lindsay’s parents, maybe. They were the ones who had brought him here. They were watching, he was sure
of it. Watching him being tortured, all in the name of “fixing” him. “The drugs are working. The magic is
there. You can see it spark, but he can’t use it. Watch.” Her voice got louder again. “Lindsay. Focus. I want you to make it rain.”
Flash. He was back again. The stone collar was heavy around his throat, on his collarbone. He
couldn’t breathe. His skin tore as he yanked and pulled at his hands, trying to get out of the cuffs, out of the straps, tried to get away, but this time, his magic was within his reach. “Make it rain, Lindsay.”
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Lindsay screamed.
He didn’t stop screaming. When the flash brought him to the corpse-littered corridors of the Institute,
the screams simply turned inward. He’d done that. He’d killed them all.
The white light enveloped him, dragging him back to Ezqel’s tower. He let go of the mirror, still
screaming, and fell to the floor. His hands and knees had barely touched the concrete before he was
throwing up, heaving every bit of the small breakfast he’d eaten onto the floor. Between heaves, he was
still screaming. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t know how long he’d been falling in and out of the mirror, how
long he’d been screaming, but the noises he made were nothing but terrified rasps, and his whole body was
shaking with his sobs.
“Are you sure you can’t eat?” Taniel held Lindsay up with an arm around his waist. The young
librarian’s face was drawn with concern as he helped Lindsay descend from the tower. When Lindsay had
come back to himself, Ezqel was gone and Taniel was there, trying to comfort him without success. “At
least a little tea?”
Lindsay’s stomach gurgled at the very thought and he shook his head. “No food,” he rasped. He
wasn’t sure he ever wanted to eat again. Taniel had brought him water and he’d rinsed out his mouth, but
he hadn’t been able to swallow.
“Do you need Izia?” There was another set of stairs up to the guest room that they had to conquer.
Taniel was patient, helping Lindsay across the sitting room and up to the safe haven.
“I’ll be all right,” Lindsay said, shaking his head again. Izia had been with Dane, the last he’d seen
either of them this morning, and he was sure she was still tired from whatever work she’d done to heal
Dane the night before. “Just…time.” He’d thought time would help with the memories, but they were all
fresh, all over again.
They were partway up the stairs to the room when Dane found them. Taniel saw him coming and
squeaked inadvertently. Dane’s hair was in disarray and he was absolutely stormy, wearing pants and
bandages and nothing more. Lindsay flinched. After everything else, he didn’t want Dane to be mad at him
as well.
“Go away.” Dane’s fury was all directed at Taniel. He reached out for Lindsay. The minute Dane had
his hands on Lindsay, Taniel backed away, almost tumbling down a few steps and beating a hasty retreat.
Dane gathered Lindsay up to his chest, holding him close.
Lindsay tucked his face against Dane’s shoulder and took a slow, shuddering breath. “Taniel didn’t
hurt me,” he whispered. None of it was the librarian’s fault.
“That’s why he gets to walk away.” Dane carried Lindsay to the guest room and kicked the door
closed behind him. He brought Lindsay to the bed and laid him in the warm hollow where he must have
been resting or sleeping before.
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The sheets were so warm, and Lindsay felt so cold. He made a soft noise, rubbing his cheek against
Dane’s pillow. “Are you all right?” His misery didn’t matter if Dane was still hurt.
“Getting better.” Dane brought him a glass of water and waited while Lindsay sat up to take a sip.
Lindsay’s hands shook, and Dane had to help him hold the glass to keep the water from sloshing out as he
brought it up to his lips. When Lindsay was finished, Dane put the glass aside and lay beside him, curling
around him and pulling him close. “Don’t worry about me.” He got Lindsay in his arms and frowned with