All that, of course, only worked when nothing disturbed the scene. Usually it was no problem. Small distractions and changes were easily ignorable, his brain automatically filing them under unpleasant, then promptly disregarding them. But his cell phone—set on silent for everyone but two soldiers and Keri—startled him horribly. Every tiny discomfort rushed back, and he gritted his teeth for a second, fighting the strong urge to pull away and walk out. His client didn't pause, just growled encouragement and squeezed tighter when Gabriel tensed.
"Stop," he snapped, scrambling upright, only now noticing he'd been pressed almost flat against the surface of the desk. Another rough thrust sent the old wood rattling and him stumbling. He shoved back against the man, pushing him aside with firm, practiced ease. The quick burn of his cock slipping free with not enough lubrication made him wince. He strode to his discarded jeans and fished out the ringing phone. His client rounded on him.
"I ain't done yet—"
"No. Magpie." His safe word—not that anyone ever respected it, or even remembered it whenever he bothered to provide it before the session. He flipped open the phone. "Yes?"
"I said I ain't—"
Gabriel spun around and hit the man hard in the throat with a knife-hand strike, doubling him over with a choked yell. While he was busy coughing his lungs out, Gabriel pulled his clothes on, listening to Colonel Stag's voice. He seemed composed. In the background there were muffled noises that sounded like trees snapping in half.
"You need to come up to HQ right now. Snow is—he took the day off, said he had a fever, but there's something wrong. One of the slow stutters, but it's not stopping. We're barely keeping the rogue energy down—"
"I'll be there as fast as I can," Gabriel said, hanging up. His mind presented and discarded possibility after possibility of how and why and who and what. When his client started to rise, spitting threats, he delivered a solid kick to his solar plexus, bringing him down again. Gabriel paused for a second to filch the stranger's wallet, and was out the door the next.
He sprinted. Two blocks of ratty neighbourhood until he arrived on the fringe of the slums. He slipped into an empty shed, where an indistinct hulking shadow crouched, waiting for him. He tapped its surface and the cloaking spells broke apart, revealing the army motorcycle that'd been given to him years ago, scratched and rusty now but still the best transport unit he'd ever owned. He jumped on, barely feeling the pain in his backside, revved the engine and sped out.
The first stop was very brief—to an abandoned apartment block downtown, a place he and Snow had visited every week since mid-summer. Gabriel hid the bike, hurried in and went downstairs. It was completely dark; the space stank of piss and stale drugs. Only one of the basement rooms had a standing door. It opened easily to his touch, wards morphing into a shape that could accommodate the pattern of his magic. Harsh white lights came on when he stepped inside. The man tied to the chair in the middle of the room didn't even stir, months of captivity and neglect having taken its toll heavily. He wasn't on the edge of death yet, but he was almost catatonic. No way in hell he was behind this. Gabriel exited the miserable place, hopped back onto his bike and raced straight to HQ.
What had Snow gotten himself into this time?
x
When Gabriel arrived, face numb and nose streaming from the cold wind despite his helmet, two of the gate guards were outside, waiting. He drove in grimly, ditching his bike by the outer hall. He considered leaving the helmet on so the cadets wouldn't recognise him, but in the end he pulled it off too. It made him feel claustrophobic when he had to face the already stifling shields in inner HQ. Unmoving and ever-present, the tall mountains behind the base cast a jagged silhouette against the sky, white caps dazzling next to bright cerulean. Every time he saw them, he got the impulse to climb them, to stand at the highest point and just stay there for a while.
As he strode past the training field, he caught sight of Elstrin, training quietly and steadily with an unfamiliar lieutenant. The kid seemed different from the first time they'd met. Physically different, of course, taller and wider in a few short months as his growth spurt mingled with the exercise. But something in the way he reacted to things, looked at people, held even more of that silent determination Gabriel had noticed right from the start. Everything about him strove to become better, stronger—he regarded peers with a competitive, analytical gaze, and listened to Snow with almost a total lack of argument. Did everything he was told, even when it was on the brink of the impossible. Gabriel thought the amount of fixation he was developing was starting to get dangerous. But right now it was none of his concern. Whatever Snow did to this kid, for better or for worse, would all be for nothing if he self-destructed within the next hour.
Gabriel noted with slight relief that Stag wasn't out here to warn him of what awaited him behind the barrier. Nothing too gruesome, then, he hoped. He jogged up to the sheer black gate, and his two escorts opened it for him. As the heavy locks and unseen mechanisms clicked apart, he glanced back again—Elstrin had noticed him. He turned back to training quickly, but his movements were shorter and clumsier, body language displaying what might've been worry or anger, or simply distractedness. It was hard to tell from this distance.
Gabriel slipped through the gate. He walked briskly along the short tunnel beyond that drilled through the wall, feeling hundreds of layers of spells pressing and probing at his senses, tickling his toes and buzzing up his spine. They examined the fingerprints of his personal wards; satisfied, the complicated energy retreated until it was only sitting at the background of his awareness. As usual, he was impressed—the net of magic over HQ was almost like a very sophisticated security system, technology that Mernot couldn't yet afford. One that was unceasingly scanning and watching you, only without all the invasive cameras. One that would spot and deal with trouble as soon as it arose.
Unless, obviously, if the system itself was in trouble. Which it currently was—as soon as he emerged from the tunnel into clear sunshine, Gabriel felt the fractured energy hanging thick in the air, racing randomly across the atmosphere like invisible panes of northern lights. It originated from somewhere further uphill; even from so far away, the ground trembled a little, and he heard the occasional curious crack of something breaking. Not too much had spilled, but it should've been contained by now.
He followed the direction of the leaking energy, anxiety quickening his pace. An army truck roared around a corner and a soldier called his name; gratefully, he climbed on board and let it take him deeper into the vast base, accompanied by a team of grim-faced captains in full uniform.
"What's going on?" Gabriel asked, as they bounced along the eerily deserted roads towards the source of the faint noises. He recognised the way. They were heading for Rem's dome.
"The usual, just too long. We all thought he'd get it back under control in a couple hours," the nearest soldier grunted. "It's been six, and it's still getting worse. Can you—?"
"Yes, of course," Gabriel said quickly. For reassurance as much as absolute confidence. It was always best to give prompt, good news to soldiers. He found they hated dealing with trouble and conflict more than the average person, which was slightly ironic, but when he put into account the type of dilemmas that Rem created, it was very understandable. Trying to calm Rem down while holding a gun and in military uniform was sometimes like trying to handle a snake after petting a hamster. A gamble. But Gabriel knew for a fact that he could deal with this level of freak-out easily enough. It might take a few weeks to smooth over any collateral damage, but the main point was that he could do it. Apparently satisfied, the captain sat back with a nod, fiddling with the magazine of his weapon.
The truck rattled to a stop outside the dome, engine idling loudly as soldiers disembarked. Gabriel jumped down, reached into the driver's seat and pulled out the keys. Extra noise wouldn't help, even though he could hardly hear it now that he was at the nexus of the uncontrolled power spilling from the perfect grey surface of the
dome. It spiked out in waves, making his ears pop and hum, his joints grate together painfully. The flora nearby had already been reduced to shreds, whole trees shattered in places, small branches still snapping occasionally. The soldiers milling about couldn't get closer than twenty metres from the innocent-looking structure. Every pulse of thorny energy flared against their individual shields, striking up brief puffs of light. It passed right through Gabriel's wards, though. He was somewhat immune to its effects: it succeeded only in giving him a sharp headache instead of tearing him apart.
Colonel Stag jogged up to him, out of breath, looking slightly panicked. A flare of golden sparks erupted along his left side and raced past him. "Gabriel. I'm sorry to call you up here so suddenly—"
"It's okay. I'll go in and sort it out. Anything I should know beforehand?"
"No, but he—Rem—he's upset. Very. I'm not sure why. He's been keeping Snow in there for the past five hours. None of us can see in."
Gabriel nodded. "I'll try to stop the leak first. If nothing happens for an hour, of if it builds up too much, let some of it out. Use the northern exit, into the mountains."
Setting his jaw, he walked up to the entrance of the dome, where the power was almost overwhelming, rushing out so fast it felt like he stood in the middle of a strong gale. It deafened him and made black spots dance across his eyes. He grabbed the unfairly ordinary door handle, which felt hot and cold at once, and pressed it down. Unlocked, but he had to put his whole weight onto the door to force it open. Dry wind roared past his face. He stepped in and the door slammed instantly shut. He leaned heavily against the wall in the perfect darkness, unable to draw in enough air.
"Rem?" he called, his own voice sounding tinny and muffled. Wind buffeted him from every direction, pressing him against the edge of the building. A noise shrieked across the unseen ceiling, skidding along the vast space like a trapped bat. "Rem, it's me. Let me in."
The space remained pitch dark, the unchecked magic crushingly strong. Gabriel forced himself to wait a couple of minutes, but when nothing changed, he sighed and slowly began to let his own power creep out from the tightly-spun coil inside him. It swirled about his feet in a sluggish whirlpool, effortlessly negating the aggressive energy that crashed into it. Gabriel closed his eyes briefly. He straightened up, suddenly finding it easy to move. He put his palm to the gently curving wall and watched his power spread like oil on water, flowering over the surface without pause.
"Rem," he tried again, speaking softly now, aware that his words carried a low, unnatural echo. "Stop it. Do you really want me to eat all your energy? Because I can, and I will."
The forces rippled and swirled back, flared up again. A tiny voice squeaked through the darkness, as if a scared little boy stood a room's length away. "I—I can't. I can't stop."
Gabriel knew better than to try to find it. He'd just get lost. More lost than he was now, that is. "Of course you can. It's your magic. Get Snow to help. He's here, right?"
"Yes, but he—I—I think he's—"
The voice was starting to panic. Gabriel walked away from the wall, letting his power spread like shadowy lichen, and paced randomly into the measureless inside of the dome, unable to see where he was going. "Okay, Rem. It's okay," he murmured into the not-quite-air in front of him. The threads of reality and time were coming apart before his eyes. It was a very peculiar feeling. Like literally walking into a dream. "Where are you?"
"It hurts, Gabe," Rem said, his words echoing and bouncing confusedly. "It hurts and he said he'd come back and I said no and he's—god, I think he's dead—"
"He's not dead," Gabriel sighed, unable to stop from rolling his eyes. "Come on. Tell me where you are and I'll help you. I can take a look at Snow. I'm sure he's fine."
The wind changed course again, hissing and whistling fiercely, and Gabriel followed its shaky directions. It felt like he walked in circles, but eventually he arrived at a place where the atmosphere was still and saturated with energy. Eye of the storm. He hesitated, then called up a simple light to combat the solid darkness. Kneeling there was Rem, white hair drifting in the murky shadow, his face pale and terrified, but his silver-blue eyes reflected only madness. Snow hung across his lap, floating half-off the insubstantial floor, expression slack, a line of blood running from the corner of his mouth. Gabriel stepped closer and, when he wasn't stopped, crouched beside them. Rem stared at him like a stray dog staring at a collar.
Still, Gabriel reached out, for Snow. His skin was cold and clammy. He could feel Rem's energy humming aggressively through his blood. It hadn't killed Snow like it would've killed any other person. Some snakes were immune to their own venom, and Rem was one of them.
When he tried to pry Snow away, Rem shuffled back a tiny step, shrinking into the gloom with the small movement. "Don't," he hissed harshly.
"I just want to help," Gabriel said. He hoped he sounded reasonable enough. "Okay? That's all. I—"
"You need to kill him, Gabe. Kill him before he kills anyone else."
Utterly confused for a moment, Gabriel said, "Who?"
"That sorcerer you've got locked up in the city. It's been four months. Kill him." Rem glared at him, eyes cold as ice, trembling slightly. Snow gave a tiny cough, the collar of his uniform stained red.
"No." Gabriel took a deep breath and confessed, "I think he's an anchor." He'd harboured the thought for a long time now—almost since they'd first caught the man—and had been too reluctant to tell Snow. It would have opened a whole new can of worms, one that could potentially result in several nasty scenarios. Telling Rem, though, was an entirely different matter. He didn't even seem to care.
"Kill him anyway. You can deal with the rest later."
"Not until I—"
"What do you think will happen when our connection shakes so much it shatters everything
Snow's done?" Rem said coldly, for an instant completely serious and almost sane. "The barrier. The wards around that little room. It'll screw up your magic too, and he'll escape. It wouldn't matter if he's an anchor or a goddamn Anoptis, he'll escape, because you haven't fucking killed him—"
"Yeah, maybe he will, in the next minute if you don't stop this," Gabriel snapped back.
Rem closed his mouth.
"Well? We can sit here arguing, knowing full well I'm not changing my mind, while you slowly destroy HQ. Or you can let me help you. Your choice, Rem."
A beat of silence, then, abruptly, the wild magic outside their little circle of calm ceased snapping around like a flag in a storm. Rem exhaled and bowed his head, the feral animal inside him backing down to be replaced by the quiet, solemn boy who Gabriel was so fond of. His arms, trembling still, lifted Snow gently and placed him on the black floor between them. Gabriel put his hands on Snow's shoulders and allowed his power to seep into his cool skin, pushing away the violent buzz of Rem's energy. He felt sorry for Snow. He was going to feel like shit when he woke up. Like someone had used morphine to combat an adrenalin overdose.
Rem watched him work wordlessly for a while. He started, "I'm sorry—"
"Shut up," Gabriel said curtly, not looking up. It had been a long time since he'd felt genuine anger towards Rem, but it looked like he'd broken the record. He knew in his heart that it wasn't really Rem's fault to act like this, but he couldn't easily forgive such frustratingly stupid reasons for breaking down. He took a deep breath, forcing his voice down. "You're testing my patience, Rem. Please, think about the potential consequences before you flip out and make the colonel call me up here just to tell me to murder some guy who's probably haunted already. That's why you're not letting Snow go, right? Just so I could come see you?"
"I—I thought…" Rem wrapped his arms around his knees and looked away, his eyes tired and miserable.
"You thought holding Snow hostage—not very nice, in case you haven't realised—and throwing a dramatic tantrum would get me to agree with you." Gabriel smiled tightly. "We both know I'm a little more stubborn than that. Not as stubbor
n as Snow, mind, but still."
"I'm sorry," he whispered again.
"Apology accepted," Gabriel muttered. "Just don't do it again. You can flip out, but
don't keep flipping out for half the day. We've all got better things to do." Snow groaned and stirred, and he took his hands away. He turned to Rem and scrutinised him. "Now, how are you? Got all that energy back under control yet?"
Rem nodded, not moving. "Still hurts. It's like throwing up my guts then swallowing them back in."
"That's disgusting," Gabriel said with feeling. "Starfish do that, you know."
Dragon Bone Page 19