Chapter 6 #4
Oddly, thinking of Andrew’s annoying habits helps to clear my mind. Reminding myself that I’m in a safe place now, I think about my moments of “luck” in the labs. The first that I can think of was when the lab assistant and the guards went to see what the noise in the hallway was.
Which, now that I think of it, is weird.
There had been other times when there were shouts from other rooms or outside the lab.
The guards only left if another guard called for help, and the lab assistants never went to see what was happening.
Even the sloppy one knew Tish would have his guts if he left us unsupervised. So why did they all go then?
I replay the moment in my head. The memory is well over a year old, but it’s been burned into my brain by the sheer terror I felt when I realized something was wrong, and the stillness brought by the meditation techniques throws it into even sharper relief.
The lab assistant and guards came in, and I was curious. It wasn’t unheard of for them to give us shots outside the lab—usually when it was something that needed time to kick in before tests—but it wasn’t common, either.
Brendan went first, and when he just collapsed seconds after the injection, I was alarmed. Sure, they put us under occasionally, but never like that. Maybe he’d had a bad reaction to whatever it was? But the assistant didn’t seem concerned.
Then the same thing happened to Paul, and I panicked. I knew something was wrong. I still thought they were just unconscious, but it still seemed really off, and I didn’t want to be injected with whatever it was.
Diego hesitated when it was his turn, and one of the guards stepped forward to hold him in place. There was no chance I could avoid it as long as they were in the room. I needed a distraction. I needed them to be distracted. Dammit, they had to be distracted!
Just as the assistant withdrew the needle from Diego’s arm, there was a noise from the hall. I couldn’t tell what, but as if on cue, both guards and the assistant turned to look toward the door, and then went to see what was happening.
Diego met my gaze, then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed. Fuck! I had my distraction, but now what? How could I escape?
Movement by the door was my only warning. I had to act.
I dropped to the floor, letting my limbs sprawl awkwardly, and focused on regulating my breathing, even as I knew it was pointless. Even if they decided they’d lost count—unlikely—there had been four syringes on the assistant’s tray.
Still… don’t notice me. You already did me. It’s done. It’s done. It’s all done.
And then, miraculously, the assistant left and more guards came in to…
drag us away? I kept my eyes closed, ignoring the scrapes and bumps from being dragged, pretending with every iota of acting ability in me that I was unconscious.
Don’t notice I’m conscious. Don’t notice I’m conscious.
Part of me suspected—knew—that the others weren’t just unconscious.
They’d never treated us so carelessly before.
The incinerator room was hot—
“Noah?” Andrew’s voice is gentle but firm. “Noah, if you can hear me, you need to come back. Open your eyes.”
The memory breaks apart, and I suck in a deep breath and open my eyes. Andrew is kneeling in front of me, concern on his face. There’s something on my cheeks… I lift my hand and swipe, and it comes away wet. I’m… crying?
“There you are,” Andrew says, breaking into a relieved smile. “Are you okay?”
I just stare at him.
“Take your time,” Percy says quietly. “Do you want some water?”
I don’t even have a chance to say yes before Andrew is up and going to get some from the little fridge in one of the cabinets.
“You’re safe here, Noah.” David hands me some tissues, and I mop up my face.
“I know you haven’t wanted to talk about it, but it would be normal for you to have some PTSD after what you’ve been through.
Whatever you were just thinking about was obviously difficult for you…
and very absorbing. We’ve been talking to you for a while. ”
I take the bottle from Andrew and don’t utter a peep of protest when he sits on the arm of my chair and puts a hand on my shoulder. Instead, I take a swallow of water, which finally allows me to speak.
“I didn’t hear you. I was… remembering. That day at the compound.
” I meet David’s gaze squarely. “I think you’re right.
That day, I was thinking a lot about how I didn’t want them to notice me.
Or not to notice I was conscious. That I needed a distraction.
I never once thought anything like ‘don’t inject me with drugs that will k-kill me.
’” My voice wavers, but I push on. “Or ‘don’t load me into the incinerator and burn the evidence of your genetic experiments.’ Even after that, while I was hiding, whenever it seemed like someone was going to discover me, my focus was on them not noticing me.
So the magic—” I break off, suddenly aware that I can’t feel it.
It’s been with me for months, but now it’s gone.
“Percy,” I gasp, eyes widening, and Andrew leaps to his feet.
“What is it? A telepathic attack?”
“No, I can’t feel the magic.” I blink, momentarily distracted. “Is a telepathic attack even possible? Who has that ability?”
“Any ability that can affect the mind of another is technically classed as telepathic,” Percy says calmly. “Charisma, enthrallment, even some elements of sorcery. Take a breath and focus on the magic, Noah. How does it normally feel? If you want it to come back, you need to invite it.”
Does that sound fucked-up to you? The magic’s been clinging to me for months, and now I have to invite it?
Even as I think it, though, I’m mentally reaching out for that familiar tingly pressure… and there it is.
Percy smiles, obviously able to tell, and says, “There you go.”
Andrew sits back down on the arm of my chair as I take another swallow of water, reassured by the magic twining itself back around me. “Where did it go? And why?”
“I don’t know,” Percy answers, shrugging. “Maybe it wanted to give you some space while you were upset? Or it sensed that you weren’t receptive to it in that moment. There’s so much we don’t know about existential magic.”
I nod slowly. “Well, it’s not a definite test, but I think you can safely assume that it reacted to me having strong emotions in the compound.”
“So the magic… I’m going to say ‘grants spells’ because I don’t have a better term right now,” David says, “based on what you’re asking, not your intent. You wanted to be ignored, hidden, so it helped you do that rather than realizing you were in trouble and what was actually happening.”
“I… think so.” I play those moments where I was feeling most desperate over in my head. “I honestly don’t know, though. Even thinking about it now, I can’t say I felt any connection with the magic then. I didn’t feel it at all until—” I break off, frowning.
“Noah?” Andrew peers down at me.
“I’m okay.” Absently, I pat his leg. “I was going to say I never felt it until I met Percy, but I think… maybe before that. When I was waiting for Sam to wake up in the lab. My skin was kind of crawling, but I put it down to the fact that there was nowhere for me to hide in the lab if someone happened to come back, plus it was under attack, and there was this new guy and I didn’t know what that meant.
” I shrug. “It could have been the magic. It wasn’t as, as…
firm a touch”—I cringe at the word choice, and Andrew snorts—“as what came later, but it’s the same basic feeling.
And if it was there for Sam and didn’t know what to make of me… ”
David sighs. “The problem is, we really have no idea how sentient the magic is.” He raises his voice. “If you can understand me right now, you’re a pain in my ass and we’d really appreciate some input so we know if we’re on the right track.”
We all wait.
Nothing.
“I guess that would have been too easy,” he mutters. “Okay. Noah, are you comfortable with the idea of being able to manipulate the magic?”
“Yes,” I say instantly. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s super weird and I’m not sure I entirely believe it yet, but I am totally there for having magic powers.”
He hesitates, and I don’t know him that well, but I can still tell he’s mentally debating whether he should correct me on the whole “magic powers” thing.
“Then we’ll focus on training you,” he replies, obviously deciding to let it go. “Andrew said he told you to take up meditation?”
I heave a huge sigh and grumble, “Yeah.” No need for Andrew to know I’m now officially a meditation convert. I think Percy might suspect, though, because there’s a sudden cheeky twinkle in his eye.
David, on the other hand, seems to have fallen for my act and sounds genuinely sympathetic.
“I know it can be a pain, but it really will help in the long term. I’m going to talk to a friend of mine who’s Wiccan and see if I can get him to give me some pointers for beginners, but one of the things he suggested when we thought Sam might be able to use magic was to conjure a ball of light. Do you want to try that now?”
Do I want to use magic in a way that will have a tangible result?
“Yeah. Yes. Let’s try.” I don’t even care that I sound like an overeager loser, and David smiles.
“Andrew, can you get the lights and close the blinds? The first time might be a little bit small or faint, so we want to give ourselves the best chance of seeing it.”
Andrew goes to do his bidding—that’s a neat trick—and David studies my face.
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?” he asks gently.
“Yes.” My voice is firm. “I think you’re right about the PTSD, and I should probably do something about that, but I really want to do this.” I hesitate, not wanting to sound like a dork, but it’s David—he’ll get it. “I’m excited about this.”