Ari
Almost immediately, he feels anxiety boiling inside him, vicious and sharp, the side effect of sand. He keeps his eyes shut and tries to still the churning emotions by analyzing his situation.
He’s tied down to a chair. His hands are bound tight, covered in a thick polyester cloth.
He could attempt to convert the cloth into air, but he notices that there is a tiny tracker installed on the leather binding the cloth around his wrists.
The imbalance between the cloth’s mass and the mass of air will loosen the binding and set off the tracker, no doubt alerting Grand Central to the fact that he is attempting an escape.
He opens his eyes, trying to ignore his haze of pain, and looks around the room.
It’s mostly bare, an ornate box of marble floors and walls lined with elaborate molding.
Two men stand guard on either side of the door.
There are no windows. He gingerly taps the tiles with his boot and senses how solid they feel.
It’s likely there are no floors beneath this one. He’s on a basement level.
He isn’t afraid of pain. Alchemy has taught him that, if nothing else.
But his anxiety continues to ebb and wane in his chest, and his eyes continually stray to the door, waiting for his captors to show.
His throat is dry, something he could remedy easily enough if he were free—in an emergency, he could transmute water to drink—but with his hands bound, he must wait for mercy.
He isn’t sure how much time passes before the door finally opens. Ari sits up straight, his hands still bound tightly, to see Will walk in with Sam at his side.
His gaze goes first to Sam, but she isn’t looking at him. Instead, she focuses on Will, then surveys the room as if unwilling to acknowledge him. Dark circles rim her eyes.
Will heads to Ari, leans down, and regards him. Then he touches the gag tied around Ari’s mouth and runs a finger smoothly across the cloth. The fabric loosens and falls away. Sam waits beside him.
“I hope you’ve been comfortable enough, Mr. Rathod,” Will says.
Ari manages a tight smile. “Good to see you again, Mr. Taylor.”
“Need anything? Water? A snack?”
“Maybe a little update on why I’m here,” Ari says.
“Well, you’re currently one of our guests, along with a few of your fellow crewmen.
Perhaps their names will ring a bell for you.
Sargon. Newton. Archimedes.” Will smiles at the spark of recognition in Ari’s eyes.
“Ah, I figured. The girl seems to know you well. We’re working on getting her to talk. ”
Ari smiles bitterly. “Good luck.”
“Save the luck for yourself, Shakespeare.”
“And what exactly do you want from me?”
“Perhaps some insight into why you’re fucking around with one of ours.”
He knows. He knows about the secret meetings with Sam.
“I’d say the fucking around was mutual,” Ari says coolly.
There’s a slight tightening of Will’s jaw, a stiffening of his shoulders. A glint of fury in his eyes. It is the first time Ari has seen any sort of weakness in Will’s demeanor.
Will looks at Sam. “Mozart, what do you think? Was it mutual?”
Sam bows her head at his comment. Ari feels a swell of anger—he absolutely hates seeing her act so obedient around Will, as if perpetually ready for his next command.
When Sam looks at Ari, there is none of the grief in her eyes that she revealed to him at the beach.
Whatever part of her bared her heart to him, he does not see it here.
“I think you might want to take a close look at what our boss is willing to offer you, Shakespeare,” she says, “and consider who you want to work for.”
“I made that decision a long time ago.”
“And how has that worked out for you?” Sam leans forward. “Have they given you the life you’ve wanted?”
Sam doesn’t know about his family, about the way he left them behind, about Reed’s refusal to let him contact them.
But her words have always pierced him differently than others, and now he feels the stab in his heart, as if he were still staring out of the window of the airplane before he left India and never returned.
“Has Grand Central done the same for you?” he asks her quietly.
She regards him. He tries to read the emotion in her eyes, but before he can, she crosses her arms and looks away.
As she does, he notices that she is favoring one of her legs over the other, careful not to put too much weight on her left side.
An injury. And in spite of everything, he still finds himself worrying over how serious it might be, whether she got it during the fight, whether an alchiatrist has tended to her yet.
“Negotiations will wait for a different day,” Will says.
“But when it comes time to figure out what your next steps should be, before you have formal offers placed before you—I want you to think carefully about what it is you want and what you don’t.
” He nods. “Because we all know that, eventually, only one of us will emerge on top, and I would hate to see a talent like you stuck on the losing team.”
Ari returns Will’s stare and doesn’t answer.
After a while, Will gestures once at Sam.
She glances at him, as if questioning his order, but when he gives her a sidelong look, she straightens her jacket and turns away.
As she does, she casts Ari a single glance over her shoulder—and this time, Ari sees a progression of emotions.
Contempt, hatred. And fear, whether for herself or for him, he can’t say.
Then she steps out of the room, leaving Ari with Will.
For a while, Will sits silently, contemplating Ari. At last, he rises, gesturing for one of the guards by the door to join him.
“Four of our crew were taken by Lumines in your ambush yesterday,” Will says. “In return, we’ve taken three of yours.” He tilts his head at Ari. “And you.”
Ari looks straight and says nothing.
Will bends down, rests his elbows on his knees, and studies Ari’s face.
The way he tilts his head makes a few strands of hair fall across his narrowed eyes.
A tingle runs down Ari’s spine. He can see what draws Sam to Will, the dark energy swirling within Will’s soul that pulls others in like an undercurrent.
“How valuable do you think you are to Reed?” he asks.
Again, Ari doesn’t answer.
“I’ve heard,” Will continues, “that Reed has bypassed Prometheus to select you as his successor.”
Ari remains quiet.
“And yet, Mozart tells me you went against your own syndicate by warning her of the ambush. Is that true?”
Still, he doesn’t reply.
Will stands back up. “You’ve gained quite a name for yourself as a negotiator.
Don’t think I don’t notice the way Reed deploys you to certain events.
Doherty’s campaign banquets, for example.
I’ve heard the candidate has quite a thing for you.
” He lifts an eyebrow at Ari. “To be honest, I don’t see the appeal. ”
“Well,” Ari says, “I’m not trying very hard to win you over, am I?”
Will smiles at that. “Tell me,” he says. “What, exactly, is your interest in Miss Lang?”
Hearing Sam’s name on Will’s lips fills Ari with a reckless rage.
“What do you think, Constantine?” he replies.
Will looks thoughtful for a moment. Then he sighs and tilts his head at the guard.
The guard picks up the strip of cloth on the floor and pulls it hard across Ari’s mouth. Ari makes a muffled sound as the guard tightens it painfully.
Will grabs Ari’s curls and yanks his head back until the length of his throat is fully exposed.
Then he leans close to Ari’s ear and murmurs, “You love her. I can sense it in your bones. And you think that because you love her, you somehow hold sway over her, that your love has the ability to shift the balance of power in our world, that you can use your tricks and charms to win her in the same way that you’ve won over others. ”
Will places his hand at the base of Ari’s throat, and Ari shivers at the cool touch of his fingers, knowing what comes next. He thinks of Sam, of the feeling of wiping away her tears in the night.
Will’s breath is hot against his ear. “Let me remind you,” he whispers, “what power feels like.”
And suddenly, pain explodes through Ari’s veins.
He lets out a muffled scream against his gag and arches backward, muscles straining, as Will tightens his grip and transmutes the water in his cells into vapor, forcing his neck to swell.
Pain floods his entire body. Ari feels his throat closing.
He feels like he’s drowning. He feels like the first time he ever performed a transmutation, when Rudra had reached into him and pulled his soul forward.
His boots drag against the floor tiles in desperation, and his bound arms tremble as he struggles in vain for relief.
Will eases, and Ari sags, helpless.
“More?” Will murmurs, his voice a caress, tightening his grip on Ari’s hair. This time, he presses his hand against Ari’s chest.
Stars explode in his vision, and Will’s silhouette disappears in the blinding light. Ari arches, screaming again into his gag. It feels as if Will is ripping Ari’s heart out, sinew by sinew, the blood leaking out and filling his chest. He struggles to breathe but can’t fill his lungs.
Will eases again. Ari collapses against his bonds, breathing heavily behind his gag. Will releases him, straightens his jacket, and smooths back his hair, as if composing himself. Ari is trembling uncontrollably against his bonds, wishing with all his heart that he had even one of his hands free.
But as Will turns to speak to the guard, Ari catches the fury in his expression and realizes that he has hurt Will without even touching him. There is a flash of jealousy there, of a dark fire fueled by the thought that, perhaps, Sam’s heart lies elsewhere.
And suddenly, Ari realizes that Will’s feelings for Sam run deeper than a business deal, a partnership, a shallow affair. That, in his own way, Will loves her too.
The fear in Ari’s chest spikes into panic. Being loved by a man like Will is dangerous.
Will pulls on a pair of black gloves. “Tomorrow,” he says quietly, “you’re going to talk.” Then he tilts Ari’s chin up. “But today, you’re going to hurt.”