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Chapter Sixteen
This had to be the last stop. I’d seen Kase and Troy, waded through their problems and faced down my own. Hunter had appeared in mine, making me suspect that he wasn’t stuck himself. It meant that when the darkness took shape once more, I wasn’t surprised to find Grant.
He sat on a ledge, looking as casual as ever, as if the craziness of the world couldn’t reach him. In fact, he almost seemed at ease in it.
I waited for something horrible to happen, something that would keep me up at night after having to relive it with him.
Instead, Grant patted the seat next to him. “Come on, Ava. Show’s about to start.”
That made me pause. The others hadn’t recognized me at first.
Grant gave me a tired smile. “I’m a mage, Ava. I sure as hell know how to deal with a bit of mind-fuckery like this. I’ve spent a lot of time in altered states, so I’m pretty good at identifying and staying in control when it happens.”
I went over and sat on the ledge beside Grant, a little surprised it remained solid. I’d partly expected to end up on my ass when the ledge turned out to not really be there. The rules of the abyss didn’t make a lot of sense to me.
“So, did everyone else make it?”
I nodded. “Wasn’t easy—everyone but Hunter got stuck.”
“Hunter’s too stupid to get trapped. You need a lot more brain cells that he has to be conflicted enough to get stuck.” His snarky comment had me elbowing him. He offered a half-hearted smile. “He wasn’t ever mortal, so I’d guess that’s why he can’t get stuck. I’m glad they’re safe, though. You, too.”
The moment was oddly quiet—almost peaceful. It lacked the fear of the others, the loudness and busyness of them. Then again, both of us knew what would happen, how this worked. Maybe because we expected some horrible revelation, there was no reason to stress.
I was about to ask him what was supposed to happen when something skirted across me like a wave of electricity.
“Looks like it’s the matinee show,” Grant said on a sigh.
In front of us, the picture came to life. A scrawny kid appeared, and those green eyes gave Grant away, even if I hadn’t recognized him from the painting.
He was skinny and on edge, reminding me of a feral cat. He had the wariness of a person used to being kicked, of someone watching for it.
It was the same spark I knew from him, though. Grant was tenacious, someone used to fighting as hard as he had to in order to survive.
The kid walked, glancing from side to side. He was clean, but the scratches and bruises on his skin suggested the washing was a new thing.
“What’s your name?” a man asked, and when he came into view, I recognized him. The man from the painting—the Magistrate and Grant’s ‘father’.
“Grant,” the kid said, pulling his shoulders back, his chin lifted.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“I told you how mages could get power, didn’t I?”
I thought back to when I’d asked him about it, to what he’d told me about the forbidden method.
Unease filled me. “They steal it from kids.”
He nodded. “They got us off the streets from a bunch of different cities like some big sweep. There were at least thirty of us, all thinking we’d won the lottery by being picked. We’d been living in nothing, scraping by, and here we were—food, clean clothing, finally thinking we’d found a place.”
I knew that feeling, and how crushing it was when it didn’t turn out to be true…
“You’re special,” the Magistrate said, and when Grant didn’t answer, he offered a cruel smile. “You know that, don’t you? You can do things others can’t.”
The kid narrowed his eyes at the Magistrate.
“I knew he was bad,” Grant said. “I lived with nothing, so I damn well knew how to tell when a person was bullshitting me. You learned that on the streets, knew who was offering things just because they had bad things planned. He was the most dangerous type of dog. See, the ones that snarl and bark, they’re not so bad. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for, the ones who don’t give you any warning before they tear your arm off.”
Even as Grant talked to me, the image still moved. The Magistrate spoke and young Grant watched him with suspicion. The Magistrate came forward and set a hand on the boy’s chest.
