Page 107 of Son of a Witch

Loco patted his belly to signal yes. Knoxe nodded, always organized and on time.

“Not yet.” I slid my out from the pocket and examined the white pill Astra also primed that would protect us from the effects of the knockout bombs. It wasn’t like me to forget. I trusted my girlfriend, and threw mine back with water from my canteen.

“Me, either.” Tor moved to swipe his water and gulped his down.

“Excellent.” Selena clapped her hands together. “Anyone have questions before we leave?” Expectant eyes sailed to Knoxe. Surprisingly, he remained quiet when previously he had a lot to say.

“Just give ‘em hell.” Loco whipped out his knives, twirled them, and slammed them back in their cases.

“All right, then. Move out, team.” She marched for the door, almost getting hit in the face when it flung open, and three men marched in. Sentries flanked the warden, forcing her back.

Haunting woodwinds stirred eerie notes backed by minor keys creating discord.

Vancor’s expression mirrored concern from the way his brows sat heavy over his eyes. At least that was what the card Dr. Anders showed me said the emotion was.

“Mr. Fielding, a word please?” The warden’s stern voice cut through me.

Varied pitches screeched in my head like the soundtrack of a horror film. I dragged my feet to stand in front of the warden.

Knoxe marched by my side, acting as my support person. He did that ever since a sentry questioned me about Jerry’s murder and I stumbled my way through it.

I stood straighter from so many years of practice with my colonel father and my service in the military. “Yes, sir?” My throat stung like razor blades nestled in it.

Vancor glanced at Knoxe. “This is private. The rest of you out.”

Selena reluctantly herded the team out of the room, Astra and Tor glancing over at me, their worried expressions adding to the alarmed ball in my chest.

“The order applies to you.” My heart skipped at the impatient snap of the warden’s tenor directed at Knoxe. Harsh like a broken violin string.

Knoxe stuffed his hands in his pocket, remaining casual. “I’m here in a supportive capacity. I’ve acted in that stead on several occasions.”

“Very well.” The warden’s cold gaze came back to me, raking me up and down. “Mr. Fielding, the doctors have analyzed your blood results.”

Cold slime dripped down my spine. I almost forgot about the blood the doctor collected from me. “What were the results, sir?”

Jarring notes of the Devil’s Chord played havoc, and I twitched with agitation.

“Your headaches are caused by a mutation in your genetics.” Each word was a shock to my nervous system that scaled the ominous pitches to an intolerable level. “Dormant genes activated by a catalyst we haven’t quite figured out yet.”

My heartbeat jacked up. A meltdown teased the back of my mind. I didn’t know what that meant, only that it sent shards of ice through my veins, and dark chords spiraling in my mind. “What does that mean, sir?”

Knoxe inched closer and set a hand on my shoulder.

“It means your powers are beyond acceptable limits.” His words spun me off balance and I felt my grip on control vacate and my meltdown slide behind the wheel.

Knoxe stepped protectively in front of me to argue my case. I didn’t hear a word over the rising scratching, sloppy plucking, clunky of keys, and screech of strings.

What I feared all along finally eventuated. He came to lock me up in top-level security like the two other powerful Guardians. Alone. Silent. Madness. In the week I spent caged in maximum security, I lost it, tumbling through meltdown after meltdown. Five years of it would break me.

“Please don’t lock me up, sir,” I blurted into the cacophony, rubbing at my chest, the pain comparable to someone shoving his hand through my ribs and ripping out my heart. The center of my music.

Knoxe clasped my arm and had his hand on my chest, holding me upright, the despair in his gaze playing in my soul.

The warden cracked his neck and straightened his tie. “I can’t afford to at the moment, Mr. Fielding. I have thirty eighty prisoners to apprehend.”

The plunge into madness jerked me to a stop like my foot was attached to a bungee cord that tugged me backward. “You’re… you’re not grounding me?”

“Not for now, no.” The furious throb in my chest eased for the briefest moment, until he finished the rest of his sentence. “In the meantime, you’ll wear a magick-dampening bracelet, and report for weekly blood tests.”

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