Page 66 of Strange Lights

I take a stuttering step so I don’t let go of Meredith. The force dragging on my gloved arm recedes, but it’s sticky still, like I’m stuck in quicksand.

“Let’s go, Reggie,” Zara says insistently, hauling hard on the chain our linked hands make. “I love you,” she says again.

“I love you, too, Zara.”

I strain against my armored hand. Meredith and Zara don’t belong here.

My hand slides free with a jolt, and suddenly the magic, the swirling darkness, is gone. I’m gasping on the floor of my lab, Zara kneeling over me, Meredith in her arms. The lab is in disarray, as if a hurricane swept through. One of the guards normally responsible for minding us is groaning on the ground, blood trickling from his forehead as he struggles to his feet. Another is pulling debris off the kicking feet of the third.

I’m still wearing the strange glove. A Gauntlet. Silver armor with darkest shimmering black shining through cracks that run like veins throughout it. I’m myself again. But I can feel the pull still in my hand, the call of that endless void. It’s a fight to control it.

“What did you do?” Zara asks me.

Before I can answer, one of the guards yanks Zara away. She yelps and nearly drops Meredith.

Anger, that red-hot rage I felt deep in that magic space, washes over me. The Gauntlet I’m wearing calls to me. Shoves itself through the door deep in my mind, and I’m powerless to stop it. It feels wrong, but it tastes like power. The knowledge of what I’ve created hits me all at once. A gate. The glove is a gate, a conduit forcibly shoving open the door and leaching magic out. Exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t make for my mother with those collars. A thrill runs through my veins as I wrestle with it, determined to control it.

“Stop,” I say coldly.

The guard holding Zara disregards me entirely. The other two converge, stepping in between me and my sisters as I get to my feet.

“I said, stop,” I say again.

They ignore me.

“Zara!” Meredith yelps as one guard tries to pry her from Zara’s arm.

I reach outward, my gloved hand moving in tandem with my mind, with the magic I can barely keep a hold on. My vision blurs, and then I think I can see something else. Tendrils of energy. My fingers curl in the air, and somehow I know what to look for, what to reach for. The guard holding Zara gasps and goes rigid before collapsing. She writhes and screams on the ground as I push magic, direct raw energy, to every nerve ending in her mind and squeeze. I know exactly what she feels, and I relish it. That sharp pain I felt, that first sensation when I crossed the threshold; I remember it, and I shove it down her throat.

“You should have listened to me,” I say, a satisfied smirk creeping onto my face, though she can’t see it from under my mask.

Zara shuffles backward, pulling Meredith with her.

Another guard moves toward me with a sharp motion, and it’s easy, instinctual, to extend my grasp to encompass him, too, and he folds in an instant.

I look at the third guard, frozen, eyes wide in terror through his half mask.

I drop my hand to my side, and instantly the guards are free, their screams quiet. The man retches onto the ground before lying unmoving. The woman, panting, crawls backward, clutching at an overturned table for support, and she stands.

“Go,” I say, pointing toward the door.

The lone guard standing hesitates. “Our orders are to watch the girls.”

“I said to go,” I say calmly, reaching out again.

He flinches. This time I’m gentler. I grab and hold with enough pressure to make him gasp. His eyes widen, and he babbles pleas. I squeeze a tiny bit. He whimpers, and I feel a thrill at how easy it is to control⁠—and how easy he is to control⁠—now that I understand how to.

“All of you, get out. I won’t ask nicely again.” I nudge the man on the ground with my foot. “And take him.”

This time, they comply without hesitation. The two left standing don’t even bother helping the downed guard to his feet. One grabs his legs and one lifts him under his shoulders and they haul him out.

“Are you both all right?” I ask my sisters after the guards have gone.

“Yes,” Zara says. She won’t meet my eyes. Meredith nods and curls into Zara.

I reach for them without thinking, and Zara flinches, her eyes on my gloved hand.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say sharply, dropping my hand, glad the mask hides the hurt I’m sure is evident in my eyes.