by Jo Schneider
Brady froze. His fingers twitched, then his reaching arm went limp, falling to his lap.
“Better?” Mark asked, hardly a trace of concern in his voice.
Brady didn’t say anything, but Peter pointed and said, “What did you do?”
Mark shrugged. “It’s a shock of static electricity. One of my specialties.”
“And it stops you from using your powers?” Peter asked.
“Only for a little while. Usually long enough for someone to get back in control.”
Inez frowned. “If you just used your magic, what happens to you?”
“Same thing that happens to anyone else. I’m sure the two of you have experienced the side effects of using.” Mark looked at Inez and then Peter.
“Yeah, you could say that,” Inez said.
“How do you cope?” Mark asked as he turned his attention back to Brady, who had his head in his hands again.
“Depends,” Inez said, glancing away. “It just depends on what we have to work with.”
Mark nodded.
Lys listened to them. She looked at Brady, then over at Kamau who still seemed more interested than concerned. “What just happened?”
Everyone turned to look at her. Maybe the words came out harsher than she intended, but it didn’t matter.
“Well?” she asked. “Sorry, but I don’t get it.” She turned to Kamau first, but he just shook his head.
Next she set her sights on Mark. “What’s going on?”
Mark sat back, sighing. “Using magic isn’t free.”
“Okay,” Lys said, “so what does it cost?” The comment was supposed to be flippant, but Mark studied her for a moment before answering.
“Good way to put it.” He paused. They all waited. “Using magic is better than anything you’ve done before. It enhances your senses in ways you can’t even imagine. But . . .” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes. “But it takes a toll. It leaves you wanting more, and the more usually involves something unsavory.”
Lys knew immediately that he had to be talking about the Need. “Using magic feels good?” she asked, trying to understand.
“It sure does,” Peter said. “Really good.”
Nothing about the Need felt good, except when she hurt people. “Wait, whatever I just went through didn’t feel good.”
Mark shook his head. “No, breaking isn’t fun. When you learn to channel, that’s when it gets better.”
“Better?” Lys didn’t like the turn this conversation just took. “What do you mean?” The image of her living the rest of her life battling between the Need and magic (if that’s even what was going on) left her shaking her head. No, Mr. Mason promised to help her. He promised to cure her.
“Better,” Mark agreed. “It still takes work, but I haven’t met anyone yet who can’t learn control.”
“Learn control?” Inez asked. She shot icy daggers at Mark. “We’ve been searching for a cure.”
“A cure?” Mark cocked his head to the side. “You don’t need a cure, just some training.”
“There’s no cure?” Lys asked. An invisible hand reached out and socked Lys in the stomach. She hadn’t realized just how much hope laid in that little word. Cure. Hope. An end to all of this. The slippery footing her mind had been perched on fell away, and with it the possibility of ever being normal again.
“No,” Mark said. “Mr. Mason thought you were a magic user, and when he knew for sure, he came for you. He trains magic users—helps them through breaking and then teaches them how to use properly.”
Lys didn’t hear anything after the no. No cure. Her heart fell through her body and landed at her feet with a resounding thud. No hope. The last string that lead back to normality had just been cut, and as the end fluttered around her mind, she broke again. Only this time there wasn’t any magic involved. This time she felt her sanity give way.
“I have to use the bathroom,” Lys said as she shot to her feet. “Where is it?” She could hear the crazy in her voice, but didn’t care. She had to get out of there.
“Down the hall, to the left,” Inez said, pointing.
Someone said her name, but Lys ignored them. She walked briskly from the room. Passing the bathroom, Lys dredged up a vision she’d seen when she broke. Another way out of this place lay at the end of this hall. A bolted door greeted her trembling hands, but Lys didn’t bother with the handle. Instead she knelt down and pushed on the bottom panel of the door. It gave way, and she wriggled through.
Fear and anger pulsed in her veins. Her mind rushed ahead, thinking about what she would do as soon as she got to a phone. First she’d call her parents. Her dad knew plenty of people in Las Vegas. Someone would come to pick her up. Or at least take her to the hospital where she could be properly chained down.
The rough surface of the Velcro straps still chafed Lys’s wrists in her dreams. She unconsciously rubbed one of them as her feet tried to catch up with her mind. The dark hallway ended abruptly, but another door stood in front of her. This time she tried the handle. It turned.
Without a thought as to who or what might be on the other side—frankly a police officer would be welcome right now—Lys pushed the door open and went through.
This time she found herself in a storage room full of costumes and boxes. Racks of dresses, feathered boas, sexy shoes, and skimpy undergarments crowded most of the space. Another door on the far wall stood open. Lys looked back and found that the door she had come through didn’t have a handle on this side. In fact, as she let it swing closed, it almost entirely disappeared, blending into the wall and leaving only a small seam.
In another time and place she would have been thrilled to find a secret door into the basement of a Vegas night club, or theater, but now she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was get out of here. If Mr. Mason couldn’t cure her, then maybe someone else could.
Lys walked through the storage room, her shoulders brushing the gaudy costumes, her eyes glued to the far door. If she got lucky, one of the performers would be down here and they would let her use their cell phone to call her parents.
A haze settled over Lys as she moved. The hallway outside stood empty, and Lys walked down it, looking for someone to help her. Or at least a way out. However, her brain seemed to be disconnected from her actions, and she had a hard time making decisions about which way to go. The lights were on, but no one was home.
The basement soon became a frustrating maze for Lys. The haze morphed into gray which turned into different perspectives, and Lys shook her head. She stumbled through the hallways, trying to figure out which view from her eyes was her own. Panic threatened to bring her to her knees, but Lys fought it.
Finally, after forever, Lys saw a green and white sign that said “EXIT.” She stumbled toward it, tears streaming down her face. Stairs led up and Lys couldn’t climb them, so she crawled, her hands groping for the handle. Freedom and escape from the madness her life had become lay just beyond that door. If she could get there, she could get help.
Her hands brushed the bar, and Lys pushed. Her fingers slipped off and she almost face planted into the door. A snarl of frustration escaped and Lys threw herself at the bar, pushing with everything she had. The surface gave way, and she fell, hands crashing onto a cement landing.
Light touched the night sky, but only from one direction. Stale, desert air blew through her hair, filling her nostrils with the stench of body odor, alcohol, and tobacco. Lys got to her feet, still holding on to the door, and caressed the concrete wall of the building. For a moment Lys forgot the horror of her life and reveled in the normality that lay before her. Then a car went by the alley, tires screeching, and snapped her out of it.
Lys let go of the door, hoping that allowing it to shut behind her would rid her of the world of magic and men in armor. She could deal with the Need just as long as it was the only thing she had to deal with.
Crazed euphoria filled Lys, and she felt her lips curl up into a manic grin. She lurched down the three c
oncrete stairs and kept going for the end of the alley. Vegas never slept. Someone had to be around.
She heard humming and didn’t realize the sound came from her until she got close to the end of the buildings. The random tune came from her lips unbidden, and she laughed at herself.
The scrape of feet on asphalt behind her brought her up short.
“Hey, what we got here?”
Dread washed the euphoria away, and Lys suddenly felt more grounded than she had in days.
“She’s a looker,” a guy’s voice said from behind her.
“And she looks lost.”
Lys closed her eyes. Crap.
“Hey little lady,” the first voice said in a heavy, southern accent. “You need some help?”
Right, like they were going to help her. Lys didn’t stop walking, but she did turn so she could see her “helpers.”
Four big guys occupied the alley behind her. All of them walked with an overconfidence that only came with getting exactly what you wanted, and all of them leered at her with the hungry eyes of animals in heat.
“Oh, I’m good,” Lys said, trying to sound nonchalant. Her heart started making its way up into her throat. Thirty feet to the road.
“What are you doing out here all alone, darlin’?” the guy with the southern accent asked, stepping after her.
“Just meeting a friend.” Lys shrugged. “For coffee.” Twenty feet to the road.
“Where at?” another of the guys asked.
“Starbucks.” There had to be a dozen Starbucks in Las Vegas, right?
The end of the alley lay about fifteen feet away, but now the guys were closing fast.
“Forget your friend, darlin’. You come get some coffee with us.”
“Uh, no thanks.” She managed a forced smile, glancing over her shoulder. “He gets kind of jealous if he sees me with other guys.” Ten feet to go. She wasn’t going to make it.
The southern guy raised his eyebrows. “Well then, we’ll just have to avoid the Starbucks for a while.”
They all closed at once, lunging forward, hands outstretched for her. Lys cried out, turning, hoping she could make it to the end of the alley before they got her. However, she didn’t encounter open air. Instead her face crashed into another guy’s chest.
Chapter 16
Lys tried to push away from him, but he wrapped his arms around her. Before she could begin struggling in earnest, he spoke.
“There you are, baby. You’re late.”
The words seemed so absurd that Lys’s eyes flew up to the face of the voice’s owner. To her complete surprise, Kamau stood above her.
“I’ve been waiting.” He smiled, but it spoke of disapproval as did the possessive tone in his voice.
Lys couldn’t talk. Her mouth opened, hinging up and down, but no words came out.
“Really, baby,” he said in a low voice. “You hanging out with these guys?” He shot a withering look at the four figures in the alley.
Finally she got a word out. “No.”
Kamau continued to glare at them. “I didn’t think so.”
The tone in his voice caused the four guys to step back. Kamau’s presence towered above them even though he had to be a few inches shorter than the tallest of them. Lys found herself clinging to him, and hating herself for it—hadn’t she just vowed to leave his world behind? Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and her heart pounded so hard against her ribs that she was sure Kamau could feel it.
“Why don’t you guys go find someone else to help?” Kamau said.
The words lashed out like a whip, and the four guys jerked, shaking their heads. One of them started to stutter something, but another grabbed his arm and they backed away. Kamau continued to stare at them until they turned and ran.
A breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding escaped from Lys’s lips in a stuttering exhale. She inhaled, gulping in the much needed air.
“Are you alright?” Kamau asked, pushing her away, hands on her shoulders.
Lys swallowed. She had to be strong. She leveled her eyes at his chest before she spoke. “Thanks for helping me, but I’m not going back.”
Kamau digested this. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to call my parents and . . .” And what? Go back to where she started? Right now it seemed like the only option. “I’m going to call my parents,” she said again. Tears threatened to begin cascading down her cheeks.
“How?” Kamau asked.
The question struck Lys as funny, and she let a short laugh escape. “With a phone.”
“You don’t have any money.”
Lys had an answer for that one. “I’ll call collect. I just need a pay phone.” Or someone’s cell phone.
“Why?”
Lys shook her head. He wouldn’t understand.
“Lys,” he said, leaning down to try to look into her eyes. “Why do you want to leave?”
The Need didn’t rear its ugly head, but Lys only looked at his eyes for a moment. “Because I don’t want this.” Now a tear did come. “Mr. Mason said he could cure me. He lied.” The last two words were packed with all of the betrayal and loss that Lys carried in her. She lowered her head and began to sob. “I just want to go home.”
Kamau wrapped his arms around her and drew her to his chest. At first she couldn’t respond. All she could do was cry.
“Shhh,” Kamau said, stroking her hair. “It’s okay.”
She didn’t believe him, but the words gave her the strength to cling to him. The tears and the sobs continued—an unstoppable wave of emotion that tried to wash away the hurt she’d been carrying around with her.
The flood engulfed her. Lys had no idea how long they stood there in the dawning morning, this boy she barely knew trying to comfort her when true comfort was impossible. She tried to let the pain wash away, but not all of it would go. Part of her knew that this would never be over. Part of her knew that the magic existed, and that it lay inside of her like a disease.
Kamau didn’t say anything more. He just held her, resting his chin on the top of her head. When the sobs died down, and Lys ran out of tears, Kamau stroked her hair again. “Do you want to go home?”
Lys looked up at him and nodded.
“I will help you.”
“You will?” Lys expected that he would try to talk her out of it.
“Yes.” He stepped back, releasing Lys.
For a moment she felt naked and alone—the barrier against this new world gone. But then she remembered that she’d made this decision. She wanted to go. She did.
Kamau glanced behind him at the road. “I believe I saw a gas station just around the corner. Would they have a pay phone?”
“Yes,” Lys said. A gas station. Good.
“Come on,” he said.
Gratitude for his understanding filled Lys, but when he took her hand, a different emotion came into play.
No, she thought to herself. This is not the time. But that thought didn’t stop her from intertwining her fingers with his before they walked to the end of the alley and onto the street.
Vibrant pink filled the eastern sky, silhouetting the hotels. A cool breeze blew past them as they emerged, and Lys felt her spirits lift a little. She saw the gas station immediately, and true to his word, Kamau led her toward it.
“What did Mr. Mason tell you when he found you?” he asked as they walked past the entrance to a seedy-looking club.
Lys sniffed. “He came to the hospital and told me that he could help me.”
“Help you with what?”
She shot a look at Kamau. Was it possible that he didn’t feel the Need? Mark said everyone exhibited different symptoms. “Help me stop wanting to hurt people.” She didn’t want to discuss it. Apparently Kamau caught the hint.
“And he said he could help you?”
Lys nodded. “He’s the only person who didn’t think I was crazy.”
“Were you using your magic?”
“I don’t thi
nk so.” Lys hoped that the urge to rip people’s eyes out did not constitute using magic. “It’s something else.”
“Did he say he could cure you?” Kamau asked as they walked across the small parking lot that surrounded the gas station.
“I asked him if he could help me, and he said he could. I asked if he could cure me and he . . .” Lys thought about it. Did he ever actually say that he could cure her? “He didn’t say he couldn’t,” she finished.
Kamau said nothing as he opened the door and held it for Lys.
Inside the gas station, a skinny man sat behind a counter in front of a display of cigarettes. He didn’t bother to look up from texting on his phone as they entered. The news played on a flat-screen TV in one corner, but the sound was drowned out by the loud rap music that came from a radio next to the clerk.
“Do you have a pay phone?” Lys asked. She’d checked outside and saw nothing.
“It’s in the back.” He pointed toward the restroom signs, still not looking up.
“Thanks,” she said automatically.
Kamau followed her through the little store and to the doorway in the far corner. The pay phone sat huddled in a nook, right around the corner from the fountain drinks. Patches of the white paint on the walls and ceiling peeled back, revealing a dull, gray color underneath. Cracks riddled the linoleum and Lys could smell the toilets from the end of the hall.
Suddenly Lys realized that she hadn’t used a toilet in ages. The thought of going into the bathroom here made her cringe, but this need couldn’t wait much longer. She looked over at Kamau and saw him eying the men’s door with suspicion.
The phone lay just a few feet away, but Lys decided that she’d rather talk to her parents without having to cut it short or do the “I have to go” dance.
“I think I’m going to—” Lys jerked her head toward the women sign.