something—someone—was hurting him. “We have to go. It’s Noah.”
Dane didn’t ask any questions, much to Lindsay’s relief. “He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine until we get there,” he said quietly. “Breathe.” He led Lindsay between tables to the aisle. “Now you know how I felt in Mexico.”
In Mexico, Lindsay had gotten himself in trouble by leaving Dane when they were being hunted.
Noah was nothing but obedient and as vulnerable as a human now that Lindsay held his magic. There was no reason for anyone to hurt him except that he was Lindsay’s.
Lindsay couldn’t keep Noah from defending himself any longer. He could feel Noah scrabbling frantically for magic that wasn’t there, trapped in the illusion Lindsay had woven to keep him safe.
Clutching at Dane’s arm, Lindsay released the illusion that held Noah’s magic at bay. “He’s not okay. I have to be there now .”
Night was coming down on the salt marsh behind the duplex where Cyrus had made his home. The house was set at the far end of a curving cul-de-sac, and the cheap fence put up by the builders had long-since rotted, listed, and eventually crumpled into the tall grass and sodden earth. Noah had heard Vivian mention the sad state of it to Cyrus once. Noah couldn’t hear the answer that followed, but the ancient mage’s tone had been tetchy and querulous enough that Noah could guess that no one would be mending the fence any time soon.
He didn’t want it up—he liked looking out into the gray-green distance and letting his thoughts get lost. Lindsay was gone, but his magic remained. Noah could tell, when he failed to light one cigarette after another and each time had to resort to the only plastic souvenir lighter he’d been able to find buried among his dirty jeans. He had to do laundry. And he had to stop losing his lighters. As soon as his magic was his again, they’d be raining from every pocket and fold of his belongings for days, he just knew it.
Missing his power wasn’t much of a loss. It felt like he’d returned to normalcy, wrapped in the cocoon of Lindsay’s illusion. He could have struggled against it, but he didn’t want to lose his newfound comfort. Every time his mind rose up as if to question the reality he saw, he made it soft, like he had learned to do when Rose was first mastering her magic. His sister would have been furious with him for letting someone walk around in his head, but it was everything Noah needed right now. Only a lack of familiarity kept him from knocking at Lindsay’s door at night and begging him to keep the rest of reality away for a little while. Just long enough for sleep to come.
In the meantime, Noah turned to the bottle. One bottle after another. They were all his friends. He opened another and filled his flask first before taking a drink. Before, he’d been drinking 151-proof grain alcohol. Now, it was scotch, and not the cheap stuff. Noah told himself that was progress and gave himself a drink as a reward. It brought him the numbness he was craving, though his sleep was still terrible and waking brought the fresh hell of a hangover every day. The dry heaves and screaming headache kept his mind off his troubles, though.
If Noah had known Lindsay better, he might have brought himself to ask for help. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Dane had gone out on Cyrus’s business but his presence lingered. The last thing Noah wanted was to provoke the big creature, and if he came uninvited to Dane’s den, whether Dane was in the house or not, Dane would know it.
Now that Dane was back, Noah had no intention of asking for more of Lindsay than he’d already been given. Ferals had their own ways and Dane was infamously territorial. Touchingly, Abram had been almost as concerned that the terrible manners of the mundane world would lead Noah to a sticky end at Dane’s claws as he had been concerned that Noah would embarrass the family in front of Cyrus and Vivian.
It was comforting,
Dane didn’t ask any questions, much to Lindsay’s relief. “He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine until we get there,” he said quietly. “Breathe.” He led Lindsay between tables to the aisle. “Now you know how I felt in Mexico.”
In Mexico, Lindsay had gotten himself in trouble by leaving Dane when they were being hunted.
Noah was nothing but obedient and as vulnerable as a human now that Lindsay held his magic. There was no reason for anyone to hurt him except that he was Lindsay’s.
Lindsay couldn’t keep Noah from defending himself any longer. He could feel Noah scrabbling frantically for magic that wasn’t there, trapped in the illusion Lindsay had woven to keep him safe.
Clutching at Dane’s arm, Lindsay released the illusion that held Noah’s magic at bay. “He’s not okay. I have to be there now .”
Night was coming down on the salt marsh behind the duplex where Cyrus had made his home. The house was set at the far end of a curving cul-de-sac, and the cheap fence put up by the builders had long-since rotted, listed, and eventually crumpled into the tall grass and sodden earth. Noah had heard Vivian mention the sad state of it to Cyrus once. Noah couldn’t hear the answer that followed, but the ancient mage’s tone had been tetchy and querulous enough that Noah could guess that no one would be mending the fence any time soon.
He didn’t want it up—he liked looking out into the gray-green distance and letting his thoughts get lost. Lindsay was gone, but his magic remained. Noah could tell, when he failed to light one cigarette after another and each time had to resort to the only plastic souvenir lighter he’d been able to find buried among his dirty jeans. He had to do laundry. And he had to stop losing his lighters. As soon as his magic was his again, they’d be raining from every pocket and fold of his belongings for days, he just knew it.
Missing his power wasn’t much of a loss. It felt like he’d returned to normalcy, wrapped in the cocoon of Lindsay’s illusion. He could have struggled against it, but he didn’t want to lose his newfound comfort. Every time his mind rose up as if to question the reality he saw, he made it soft, like he had learned to do when Rose was first mastering her magic. His sister would have been furious with him for letting someone walk around in his head, but it was everything Noah needed right now. Only a lack of familiarity kept him from knocking at Lindsay’s door at night and begging him to keep the rest of reality away for a little while. Just long enough for sleep to come.
In the meantime, Noah turned to the bottle. One bottle after another. They were all his friends. He opened another and filled his flask first before taking a drink. Before, he’d been drinking 151-proof grain alcohol. Now, it was scotch, and not the cheap stuff. Noah told himself that was progress and gave himself a drink as a reward. It brought him the numbness he was craving, though his sleep was still terrible and waking brought the fresh hell of a hangover every day. The dry heaves and screaming headache kept his mind off his troubles, though.
If Noah had known Lindsay better, he might have brought himself to ask for help. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Dane had gone out on Cyrus’s business but his presence lingered. The last thing Noah wanted was to provoke the big creature, and if he came uninvited to Dane’s den, whether Dane was in the house or not, Dane would know it.
Now that Dane was back, Noah had no intention of asking for more of Lindsay than he’d already been given. Ferals had their own ways and Dane was infamously territorial. Touchingly, Abram had been almost as concerned that the terrible manners of the mundane world would lead Noah to a sticky end at Dane’s claws as he had been concerned that Noah would embarrass the family in front of Cyrus and Vivian.
It was comforting,
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