Page 43 of Cage of Starlight
Tory stands, his legs barely willing to hold him after his long run, but Hasra seizes his hand and pulls him back. “Tory,” she says. “I’ll—I can . . .”
He forces his lips into a bright, irreverent smile. At the choked noise she makes in response, Tory’s chest pangs like something’sbroken. He didn’t sign up to leave her behind again. He aches to hug her or stop up his ears with his fingers or push her away. He does none of those things.
“You know me.” Tory frees his hand from hers. “I can take care of myself. I’m . . . it was good to see you.”
Her warm hands lift his chin, and he doesn’t press into the touch. “Don’t do this again. It’s okay to rely on people, Tory. It’s okay to let them fight for you.”
It isn’t, though. His mom fought for him, and it got her killed. Tying himself to anyone only leads to hurt, in the end. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Then stop giving me reason to worry! I’m not a patient person. Take too long coming back and Iswearto you, I will break down those damn walls and drag you out myself. I swear it by the earth under my feet.”
Vantaras shifts his attention to her at last. “You’d be safer if you didn’t.”
She laughs, raw and angry, then stomps forward to spit in Vantaras’ direction. It lands on the floor a few inches away from where he stands, but he doesn’t step back or touch his weapon.
“Colonel’s orders,” he murmurs.
“You and your orders can rot.”
Tory walks ahead of her, gait wooden. “I’ll be okay,” he lies again. He smiles at her nose. He won’t be able to leave if he sees how she’s looking at him. “I’ll find you when I’m out.”
“Kid.” Riese’s voice stops Tory before he steps out. “We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it.” Tory glances over his shoulder, swallowing hard, to find Riese wearing a sharp, sorrowful smile. “Think of us when you’re free.”
Tory steps out of the car without answering and bends his knees to absorb the shock of impact. He tosses a lazy mock-salute at the folks inside. “Have fun.”
He should say more, but his throat hurts like he gargled rocks.
“Where do you want me, Vantaras?”
Vantaras tips his chin toward the interior of the car as he closes and latches the door. “It’s better to forget about family. It would be safer for them and kinder to them if you never crossed paths again.”
“Where do you want me?”
Vantaras points into the woods, and Tory follows his finger behind a tree, far enough that he could probably make a run for it.
Your Core is a tracker.
He wouldn’t get far.
He forgot how much his legs hurt from running, but they barely move to get him into the woods. When he gets deep enough, knees shaking and skin greasy with cold sweat, he leans his head against a tree’s solid trunk and tastes bile.
Everything happens quickly after that. Vantaras yells something and darts toward Tory. No syringe this time—though it would be more merciful if there were. Vantaras twists his hands behind his back, locks a pair of cuffs over his wrists, and directs him to a covered truck that sputters and rattles and belches fuel fog like the machinery in Hulven. He points to the back. Tory goes.
Vantaras climbs in behind him after conferring with the two soldiers. He settles on the opposite side, as far from Tory as he can get, and doesn’t speak a word as they drive away.
The dog lies on his side between them, breathing like he’s broken.
*
When Tory’s led back inside, everyone is busy at maneuvers. It’s like he never left.
For a sick moment, motion on the field suspends itself, and Tory is the unfortunate recipient of a hundred angry stares.
As the razor-toothed front gate slams closed behind him, he’s led up the hill, shrouded by uniformed guards, with Vantaras at the helm. The guards are overkill. Tory’s legs will barely support him. His head throbs, lips parched.
“Ah, there you are!” Helner skips from the facility’s front door in a haze of red hair, messy bun pinned today by a sharpened pencil and what might be an icepick. She snags the sleeve of Vantaras’ uniform. “What a good little hunting dog you are, Vantaras,” she sneers, and lets him go to grab Tory by the chin. “I hate to say it, but Iamglad he caught you. My plans for the week would’ve been ruined, otherwise.”
Vantaras gestures to a guard, who peels Helner’s hands off Tory’s chin and pushes her away. “I have somewhere to be.”
