Page 73 of Cage of Starlight
“Not Null,” the boy breathes. “You’re—both of you are—”
A young man and woman appear behind Sena, the woman reaching out. Confusion flits through Tory. These ones aren’t Arlunian. They’re Westrian. Still enemies, though, if the focused malice on the woman’s face is anything to go by.
“Behind you!” Tory calls.
The boy whose knife Sena ruined says, “Spark, it won’t work, he’s a—”
But the woman learns for herself when her hand closes around Sena’s neck and nothing happens. The woman, with big dark eyes and brown hair shorn close to her skull, flickers out of sight with a curse. Sena spins, drawing his handgun and scanning the woods, but the pair reappear at his side. The woman leaps close enough to chop at the wrist holding his gun.
It clatters into the dirt. Sena finds Tory, eyes wide. “Run,” he says. “I’ll keep them—”
But they’re gone again.
When the woman reappears, she shoves Sena—hard—in the chest. Sena makes an awful sound and crumples, curling over himself. His eyes find Tory as the pair flicker out of sight once more. Expression taut, he mouthsgo.
But there’s no way Tory can go. He shakes his head, moving closer to Sena. If he canfindthese jerks, hunt them by their energies—
Sena’s eyes fly wide, and Tory knows something’s wrong before his own name leaves Sena’s lips, breathless and urgent. “Turn around!”
A cold hand settles on his nape before he can.
The boy with the ruined knife opens his mouth but only manages one raw syllable.
A triumphant breath of laughter raises the hair on Tory’s neck. The woman’s energy flares against his senses, sizzlingly sharp and so close he can taste it.He has to grab it, redirect it,something.
They don’t have time for this.
Electricity rips through him before he can do anything, locking his limbs.
What he hears as he falls might be Sena’s voice, but he’s too far gone to tell.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Fuzzing in andout of awareness, Tory isn’t sure how far they drag him before dropping him.
When clarity trickles back in, he blinks into impenetrable darkness. He’s weighted down, skin buzzing, breath shallow. He blinks and blinks, but there’s not a drop of light.
There’s something wrong with that, with the darkness. But his brain is slow to answer, body aching in a syrupy way that’s consistent with being battered, marinated in seawater and tenderized on the rocks, then fried to perfection by some weird electric lady, which is awful, really, because they’re kind of in a—
Shit. It’s dark.
With a lurch, Tory tries and fails to stand, but it’s like his body is anchored to the ground. If it’s dark, that’s a whole day wasted. “Sena?”
“Tied to you,” comes the strained reply. “Can you stop moving?”
“How long have I been out? If it’s night already—”
“Not night. Blindfolded. You’ve been in and out for maybe ten minutes. Just long enough for them to tie us up and leave us here.”
“Oh.” Tory wiggles his nose and the prickly sensation of motion across it does indeed feel like cloth. Tension leaves him in a rush. “That’s . . . not so bad, then.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. One of these people had to be physically restrained to keep him from killing me when we arrived. I’m not optimistic about our prospects.”
“Shut your mouth, dog.” The low, gravelly voice comes from Tory’s right.
“Ah,” Sena says faintly. “It was that one.”
Tory reflexively reaches for his power—for any energies he can turn against an enemy—but the world is empty and silent. It’s worse than being blindfolded. He shivers.
