Scintilla

by Elizabeth Noble

  He turned away from Bisset and to Brandon. With one hand on Brandon’s back he nudged him gently to the desk. Brandon offered him one sideways glance before shuffling to the chair and pulled it close to the desk.

  Brandon spent a minute getting comfortable before he looked up at Raul. Raul took his position behind Brandon, rolled his shoulders a few times and put his hands close to Brandon’s neck. Their plan was for Brandon to only act as if he was deep in the digital world. It’d taken them some work and practice, but they’d managed to achieve different levels of submersion for Brandon while keeping up the appearance of complete submission and submersion. That was almost as draining as the actual thing.

  Raul closed his eyes, focusing on his task. He heard Bisset walk across the room when his phone chimed.

  “Where? What the hell…okay, I’ll be there,” Bisset’s voice was low enough a human wouldn’t hear but a werewolf could. Bob shifted his weight and rumbled a low growl from somewhere behind Raul.

  “Whatever,” Bisset snarled, probably in response to Bob’s reactions.

  Raul heard Bisset leave the room, slamming the door as he went. It wasn’t difficult to guess the general subject of Bisset’s call. Raul would’ve preferred Bisset not left, but there wasn’t much he could do about it without destroying his own cover. For the next ten minutes he heard movement in the building, but nothing he could pinpoint. There shouldn’t be anyone but them, however the building was creaky and some windows were damaged so he tried to chalk it up to wind.

  Like Bisset’s leaving, there was nothing Raul could do about odd noises without blowing his—and Brandon’s—cover. He tried to remember, if it was it always this noisy in the building, but he couldn’t. When he had Brandon fully under, his other senses dulled. An army could’ve marched through the building and it was likely Raul wouldn’t have noticed.

  Raul almost let go of Brandon to jerk around when he got the faintest hint of an unknown scent…a human scent. Something clunked softly at the opposite end of the building then all was quiet.

  Bob was a werewolf. He’d know how to confuse Raul’s senses.

  You’re imagining things, Fierro. Get a grip and stay focused.

  Something was wrong.

  Yeah, your ability to work.

  Brandon’s body twitched. A responding shiver worked down Raul’s spine.

  Crap, he’s going too deep. For fuck’s sake focus you asshole!

  Again, there was a whiff of some unknown scent, slightly stronger. Raul struggled to control Brandon’s descent, concentrate on his task and figure out what he was smelling. He couldn’t do both, so chose to remain centered on Brandon.

  A minute went by, maybe two before Raul’s nose prickled at another strange odor in the air. It surrounded him. Next came a few soft crackles.

  He knew that sound and smell.

  This time he did wrench away from Brandon, but it was too late. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. The air around him tingled viciously. Its intensity rose and by the time Raul spun around he was confronted with a curtain of blue and white that covered him in the blink of an eye.

  The charge from an average scintilla wouldn’t hurt a werewolf, though it could knock him on his ass. On the other hand, an aimed and pinpointed discharge from a scintilla trained to use their power as a weapon could fling a werewolf across the room and slam him into a wall.

  Raul’s thought as he slid to the floor and into unconsciousness was even though he wouldn’t die, he was going to hurt like hell when he came to.

  ◆◆◆

  One minute, Brandon was connected to Raul and in the next their connection was violently shattered. He was left floundering without Raul as an anchor and guide on his journey deep into the digital world.

  The air crackled with electricity and the odor of singed flesh and hair hit Brandon as he struggled to resurface. The room was doused in a heavy blanket of fog that pulsated in sickening waves. Bile burned a path up his esophagus. He shuddered and fought to push it down as he was dragged away from the computer tower. A thin arch of blue power stretched between his finger and the machine before it broke and snapped into him.

  Brandon hissed more from surprise than pain. He tried to recoil farther but he was blocked by someone he knew immediately wasn’t Raul and hauled to his feet. The room tipped and spun. He scrambled to keep his footing despite recognizing that the only thing moving was him.

  “He’s pathetic,” a woman said. Her disdain, clearly aimed at Brandon, was palatable. His vision cleared for a few seconds when the woman grabbed his chin, dug her nails into his cheeks and gave his head a shake. A brief image of a harsh expression, spikey hair in shades of red and purple, ice cold blue eyes and a cruel sneer was burned into his brain. She let go, slapped his face, and shoved him away from her in quick, calculated movements.

  “Keep the other one alive in case we need him to make sure this piece of shit cooperates.” She must’ve been talking about Raul.

  Brandon was hoisted to his feet and held between two people, one certainly was Bob. The other felt familiar, eventually his addled brain would cooperate and provide a name and more details. They lugged him away, possibly to another section of the building. It was hard to tell for sure since all his senses felt as if they were being run through a blender and performing under ten feet of water.

  Fear spiked through Brandon. If they—Bob—tried to recreate the ‘method’ Raul used to keep Brandon anchored and help him go deeply into the digital world, Brandon was screwed. Bob would expect Brandon to fall under his control. There was likely no electrical field Brandon could produce right now to fight him off, either. To combat them all he’d have to produce a massive wave, as he’d done when he was rescued. Something like that wasn’t easily accomplished, hell, Brandon wasn’t even sure how’d he’d done it the first time. His theory was panic produced enough adrenaline to amp his charge up considerably.

  Brandon didn’t want that much adrenaline coursing through his system ever again.

  He wasn’t taken out of the building, but they did move up one floor. That meant Raul was probably somewhere on one of the lower floors, basement or sub-basement. They’d want Raul as far away from Brandon as possible if he was being kept in the printing factory and it was likely he was. Moving him would be risky and would complicate things if they wanted to use him to manipulate Brandon.

  He was immersed in Deja vu when he was thrown onto a cold floor with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. Rolling to his side, Brandon wrapped his arms around himself and gasped to regain his breath.

  Brandon blinked. Stay awake. His eyelids sank down and when he snapped them open again he felt stiff, his joints were creaky. A second ago when he’d blinked, he hadn’t had any sensations from his bladder. Now there was pressure, not urgent, but nothing he could ignore. Brandon shifted to his other side. Another blink and he had to pee so badly if he moved he might not be able to control himself. He wasn’t sure how much time slipped by, however it was certainly longer than the time it took to blink a few times. He was floundering, exhausted and afraid. Rest was what he needed to recover, but he was terrified to sleep. His body had other ideas, so he faded in and out between tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. It was a useless effort.

  Brandon was wrenched from somewhere between asleep and awake by an earsplitting crash. He jerked upright and scuttled back against the wall before he even registered what was going on.

  “C’mon,” Bob roughly hauled Brandon to his feet and yanked him to the door. “Nap time’s over. No more coddling. You’ll do this until we get what we need,” he snapped.

  Brandon had to scramble to keep up and not fall. There was no doubt in his mind Bob would simply drag him across the concrete. He’d done it before and from what Brandon remembered, enjoyed the pain and humiliation he caused.

  Once they were in the server room Brandon was back in front of the computer terminal he’d been using while he and Raul ‘worked’ for Biss
et. This time the sturdy wingback chair he’d been using was replaced with a swivel chair on wheels. Bob shoved Brandon down and gave the chair a few spins before stopping it abruptly and faced Brandon toward the computer tower.

  The room flip-flopped making Bandon gag and snort bile into his nose. He doubled over, coughing. His eyes watered increasing his disorientation.

  “Cut the crap!” Bob shouted. He grabbed Brandon’s shoulders and slammed him back in the chair.

  Brandon barely had a chance to drag in as much as a half a breath before Bob wrapped both hands around Brandon’s neck, squeezed and then shook Brandon. “Don’t think I’m going to do this as gently as your friend,” Bob snarled.

  “What the hell are you doing?” It was the mystery woman’s voice.

  Brandon’s electrical field blew away from him in one short, quick burst. He slumped back, dizzy, and drained to the point he nearly passed out. He caught a glimpse of Bob jerking backward and landing flat on his ass on the floor with a grunt.

  The woman burst out laughing. Not the reaction Brandon expected.

  “Again, you fool, what the hell are you doing?”

  Bob clambered to his feet and started toward Brandon. A simple wave of one hand by the woman stopped Bob in his tracks. She narrowed her eyes and stalked closer to Brandon, casually slipping her hands into her side pockets.

  “Mr. Bob, tell me, what did you think you were doing?”

  She stopped beside Brandon, just inside his field of vision and put a hand lightly on his shoulder. An electrical charge radiated out of her to Brandon, steadily increasing until Brandon tried to duck away, clenching his teeth and gasping.

  “Was that what you thought you were doing?” she asked Bob.

  Bob shook his head. “That guy with him, a werewolf, he’d put his hands around this guy’s neck and…” Bob shrugged. “…controlled him somehow. I was trying—”

  The woman laughed again.

  “A child’s trick.”

  She took ahold of Brandon’s chin, her nails digging into his skin and short, low pulses of power came from her fingertips.

  “You’re a clever little boy.” She tightened her grip.

  Pain coursed along Brandon’s jaw and into his chest. Tears sprung to his eyes. The woman rolled her eyes and let go.

  “Clever, but a soft piece of shit.”

  She knelt in front of Brandon and stroked his cheek a few times.

  “Here’s the deal, you’re a specially trained scintilla. A little more talented than normal. Well, so am I. Except my training took a completely different course. Do you understand?”

  Brandon swallowed hard and whispered, “Yes.”

  “I thought you couldn’t hurt each other with your charge?” Bob asked.

  Brandon was interested in the answer to that question too.

  “There is a way around everything if one knows what to do and has the skills.” The woman stared down at Brandon, her lips twisted into a cruel smirk.

  “That little stunt would’ve killed a human who wasn’t scintilla. Even a werewolf would feel very painful effects.” She gave Brandon’s face a harsh pat. “Isn’t that right little boy?”

  Brandon nodded and glared at the floor.

  She spun the chair around and Brandon was facing the computer tower again.

  “Get it done.” She slapped her hand onto a piece of paper.

  “I-I c-can’t with t-the ch-chair m-m-moving.”

  She stood straight and blew out a breath.

  “Spineless.”

  Stepping away from Brandon she turned to Bob. “Get a stable chair.”

  “Zoe, this one keeps him subdued. We used it before,” Bob argued.

  Zoe whirled on Bob and flicked her fingers in his direction. Brandon watched, fascinated, as five thin, long sparks hit Bob in his neck like tiny spears. He slapped one hand to his neck and yelped.

  “What the hell!” Bob sputtered.

  “I know more about him than you do. I think I’ve got this covered. Just do it!” Zoe snapped.

  Bob growled but stormed out of the room. He was back a few minutes later with the solid, winged-back chair Brandon was used to and dropped it beside Brandon. Bob grabbed Brandon under the arms and hefted him out of one chair and shoved him into the other one. The rolling chair was kicked away and the stationary chair was pushed into place.

  When Bob’s phone rang, he raised one finger and held the phone in the other hand, glancing at the screen.

  “It’s Bisset.” He answered the call. “Yeah, I’ve got him here. Okay. I’ll take care of it.” After his phone was pocketed, he turned to Zoe. “Change of plans. Tala is in custody. They know what she is. The power to the police station where she is needs to be cut so no one can see her and Bisset get out.”

  Zoe walked to the table and leaned against it, gazing down at Brandon. She leveled a bone-chilling stare at him and steepled her fingers together. Tiny sparks wafted into the air. She arched one eyebrow and smirked.

  “We’d better get started then.”

  Chapter 13

  Raul woke to a black haze. He blinked and heaved himself up off the hard, cement floor and onto all fours. It took a minute for his addled brain to register that the dark fog was actually in his head and not surrounding him. Sharp, white-hot pain seared through his limbs, torso and belly. It raced up and down his spine and his head was assaulted by an inner jackhammer.

  Being hit by a scintilla generated lightning bolt hurt like a bitch.

  What hurt worse was knowing Brandon was likely being held captive. Raul had vowed to protect Brandon and now he was alone. Maybe he wasn’t completely defenseless, but Raul doubted he’d be a match for that woman.

  Using one very shaky hand, Raul reached out, groping for something to pull himself up on. The only thing his fingers touched was cold, hard cement. A low, angry growl worked its way up from his chest.

  Can’t help Brandon in this condition, Fierro.

  Balancing on one hand and his knees as best he could, he used his other hand to strip down. Leaving his clothes in a pile underneath him, Raul shifted to his werewolf form and collapsed onto the meager cushion his jacket, shirt and trousers provided.

  The next time Raul pried his eyes open he was curled on his side with his jacket balled under his head. When or even how he did that, he had no clue. A few deep breaths and he peeled himself off the floor and sat on his haunches. A couple of full body shakes in rapid succession helped clear his head.

  Raul’s nose told him Brandon was still in the building. The problem was Bob and three unknown humans were lurking about as well. At least one human was magical and had some crazy, weaponized skills.

  The woman who zapped Raul had quite a powerful electrical charge. He’d heard rumors for most of his life about magicals specially trained to become weaponized. Scintillas would certainly be a popular choice for weaponizing because of their natural ability to create an electrical charge.

  There’d even been an entire television series in the 1970s about various, nefarious foreign governments taking magical children and turning them into spies, assassins and super soldiers. Raul always thought they were urban legends or embellished stories to sell magazines and boost ratings. Clearly there was at least a kernel of truth to the stories and at least one scintilla was trained to be a weapon.

  Hearing anything was more of a challenge since sections of the building were at least partially soundproofed. Seeing heat signatures through thick, insulated walls was going to be difficult if not impossible at anything other than very close range. No matter, Raul’s most accurate sense came from his nose. It was what he used more than any other sense nature gave him and even partially shifted his olfactory precision was top notch.

  He reverted to human form and pulled on his underwear and khakis then located his socks and boots. Sitting cross-legged he dug through his jacket pocket and found his phone. Or rather what was left of it.

  “Good thing I got the insurance,” Raul grumbled.

>   There was a dark scorch mark gouged right through the case and the phone back was a spiderweb of cracks. The screen looked like a werewolf had landed on it—hard. Little bits of the ‘indestructible’ glass fell out and pinged softly against the floor. The top half moved in a way Raul was certain was never intended by the manufacturer. He stuffed it back into the jacket pocket with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t calling for any help on that phone.

  With a grumble and a moan, Raul stood and took a few minutes to make sure he was stable on his feet. His sore feet with aching knees. His back and hips didn’t feel so great either. He took another minute to crack his back and move his arms back and forth.

  Yeah, those throbbed too.

  Raul rubbed his temples and sighed again.

  He turned a three-sixty, trying to look around with a minimal of movement. Heaving another sigh, he tipped his head back—wincing as he did so—to examine the ceiling. Next, he dropped his gaze to the floor and took the opportunity to rub at the back of his neck and shoulder. He straightened and put his hands on his back just over his hips and leaned back. Shifting back to his full werewolf form for another six to twelve hours or so would completely erase the aftereffects of being hit by a weaponized scintilla charge. Though that level of healing would require Raul to sleep through most of those hours. That would be six to twelve more hours Brandon would be a captive. Operating electronics was next to impossible in werewolf form, as was handling most weapons—not that he relied on many—or driving a vehicle. Raul couldn’t depend on the fact Brandon would be capable of doing any of those things once he was free of the traffickers—again.

  Raul would simply have to push through his pain and deal with creaking joints and stiff muscles.

  The floor was concrete, as were the walls and ceiling. He made his way to the closest wall and ran one hand down its surface. Leaning in, he scrutinized a section of wall, then inhaled deeply. This wall and room were newer than the rest of building, at least the parts Raul had been in. It was either an addition or had been rebuilt.