NOT ONLY AM I completely thrown by what can only be E’rikon eyes on this otherwise human-looking child, I also have zero experience with children in general. Am I supposed to reach out to him? Comfort him? I smile nervously, but since he’s not even looking at me anymore, there’s no way he can see it. I scoot forward, reaching one hand out to… pat him on the head or something. But as soon as I touch him, he jerks away, and so do I, awkwardly falling back and landing on my butt.

Okay, so maybe I’m more scared of him than he is of me. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I chuckle softly at the ridiculousness of it all and try for another smile. “Look, kid, I—”

A flash of movement in the corner of my eye has me pulling my knife, rising to my feet, and dropping into a protective stance in front of the kid before I can finish my second half-baked attempt at reassurance. But it’s only Stu, and my white-knuckled grip loosens.

Stu narrows his eyes and glances back and forth between me and the kid. I take a step to the side, hiding the child from his view until I can be sure how he’ll react to the child’s… heritage.

“What are you doing?” Stu asks.

I avert my eyes and shrug. “I have no clue. I don’t really know much about kids.”

He snorts and crouches down in front of the boy. “Hey little man. My friend and I just want to help. What’s your name?”

While my mind reels over Stu calling me a friend, I notice the boy perk up a little.

“Ethan,” he says in a soft voice. He sniffles and his eyes dart up for a moment. “What’s yours?”

“Well, my name’s Stu, and this is Jax.” He jerks his thumb in my direction and uses an exaggerated whisper for his next words, as if he’s telling the boy a secret. “Girls are weird, huh?”

Ethan giggles and nods, finally raising his head long enough to meet Stu’s eyes. If Stu notices anything off about the kid, he doesn’t mention it. For that I’m incredibly grateful. I’m not sure what the kid’s story is, but if Stu had reacted with anything other than open acceptance… well, I don’t know what I would have done, but my renewed grip on the knife leads me to believe it wouldn’t have been very nice.

Stu moves closer to the boy and rests his hands on his knees with his palms up. His voice is slow and soothing. “It looks like that arm’s hurting. Can I see it?”

Ethan shakes his head quickly and pulls his arm closer to his side.

Inching forward a bit more, Stu reaches one hand out and wiggles his fingers in Ethan’s face. “Can you do this?”

Ethan nods and copies the movement.

“What about this?” Stu waves his arm back and forth at the elbow.

When Ethan mimics that movement too, though in a much smaller way, Stu raises his arm straight up over his head. “And this?”

The boy lifts his arm slightly, then flinches and shakes his head.

Stu raises his hands up and wiggles his fingers again. “I’m going to touch your shoulder to see if I can tell what’s wrong, okay?”

His eyes glued to Stu, Ethan nods.

Stu’s fingers wrap around the top of Ethan’s shoulder and press gently. A tiny whimper makes its way past Ethan’s lips, and Stu pulls his hand back and turns to me. “I don’t think anything’s broken, but it’s probably dislocated.”

My response is stuck in my throat. Seeing Stu with this little boy, hearing the soft and caring tone of voice, watching the gentle movements… it’s like a punch in the stomach. Lenny clearly wasn’t much of a father, so Stu must have taken care of his younger brother. I cough past the guilt and nod. “So what do we do?”

He presses his lips together and slides his eyes to the side nervously. “We need to get it back into joint. It’s already swelling, and the longer we let it go, the harder it will be to get back in.”

“How—?”

His eyes flash with anger and his jaw tenses. “Because I’ve done it before.”

My inquiry had more to do with how we were going to fix it than how he knew about it, but his response tells me some things I’m not so sure I wanted to know. Besides the fact that Stu has at least some rudimentary medical knowledge, something that is certain to come in handy, he is familiar with injuries—and he knows how to handle an injured child. No wonder he didn’t care what happened to his father. Lenny didn’t just bring pain to other people, he probably rained it down upon his own sons as well.

There’s a challenge in Stu’s expression as he studies my face and waits for my response. It’s as if he’s begging for me to start an argument so he can work off the aggression that fills him. Why is he assuming there’s anything to argue about? Does he expect me to defend Lenny? Press him for more information? Question his diagnosis?

Or maybe he’s just remembering that blood-covered floor and the brother he couldn’t save.

It’s as if the ground drops out from under me. My stomach twists and my heartbeat speeds up. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and focus on controlling my breathing. Now is not the time for this. Slow, steady breaths and one step back. I push down the jagged lump of fear and guilt threatening to explode within me and dig my nails into my palms.

What’s wrong with her? Ethan is focused on Stu, and the question is obviously meant for him, but I’m the one who receives it. The childish curiosity in the mental voice is enough to pull me out of my head—at least enough for me to realize I don’t want to upset Ethan any further.

He can’t hear you this way. My response comes by reflex, and before I have time to add anything, Ethan turns to face me with widened eyes.

But you can. Are you like me?

Yeah, but we’re not going to tell Stu about this right now, okay? It can be our secret.

Ethan scowls. “I don’t like secrets.”

Stu tilts his head to the side and his gaze goes from me back down to Ethan. “What kind of secrets, Ethan?”

“She doesn’t want me to tell you that she’s like me.”

Actually, I’m more worried about Stu finding out that the kid’s like me, not the other way around, but I suppose there’s no use trying to hide it now.

“Like you?” Stu prompts.

“A damned filthy half-breed,” says a low voice from behind us. “Now back away from it. Slowly.”

My knife is already in my hand, so I simply turn to face the three men who managed to sneak up on us. My fingers steady on the handle, I slide to the side as Stu rises to his feet beside me. Shoulder to shoulder, we stand in front of Ethan. Whatever his thoughts are on the half-breed matter, Stu at least doesn’t want to see the kid hurt any further. I breathe out a slow, steadying breath and readjust my grip on the knife.

The short, stocky man in front, probably the one who spoke before, runs his eyes over me and then turns to Stu. His eyes widen a moment and a surprised look flashes across his face. “Aren’t you Lenny’s boy?”

Stu gives a quick jerk of his head but stays quiet and doesn’t relax his stance.

“Where’s your father at then? We heard a commotion over your way earlier, but we were too busy with our own issues here to get over there.”

Stu raises his eyebrows and inclines his head in the direction of the crater. “That your doing?”

The man snorts. “Hell no. We don’t have that kind of weaponry. We were just coming in to clean up the mess.”

“By ‘clean up the mess’ do you mean look for any survivors you can sell off?” Stu’s snide tone and curled lip are lost on the man.

“Damn straight. Gotta make a living somehow. Looks like you got the only valuable one though.” He leers at me, his brown, stained teeth visible through his parted lips. “Think we can work out some kinda trade? After all, your father owes me.”

“A trade?” Stu’s voice has gone completely flat and his face is blank. He can’t possibly be considering this, right? Just in case, I step closer to Ethan and roll my shoulders back.

“Your daddy has no use for the girl,” the man says, “so what’s she worth to him? For something like that…” His voice trails off and he rubs his chin. “How about a couple modified jolt guns? With the erks out and about, those have become pretty valuable lately.”

Stu doesn’t move. “And the boy?”

The man makes a gun with two fingers, points it directly at Ethan, and makes a popping noise. “It’ll be put down. I’ve heard rumors about this particular group’s… odd tastes, that they had a couple erk bitches over here.” Disgust twists his features as he glares down at the small boy. “Didn’t think it was true till now. We’ve already taken care of its littermates, but that one gave us the slip.” And then he laughs, an awful sound that drips with viciousness.

“I think I’ll pass,” says Stu, a new bite in his tone. In three steps, he’s directly in front of the man, leaning down to say his next words in a hard but controlled voice. “My father’s dead, and I don’t owe you a damn thing. Now get the hell out of here.”

A bitter chuckle breaks out of the man’s chest and he shakes his head slowly. “Foolish kid. I would have let you live, too.” Before Stu has a chance to move back, there’s a gun pressing up under his chin. “Grab the girl.”

The other two men circle around, one approaching me from either side. I expect the stark, cold freeze of fear to lock me in place, and I hold my breath, waiting for it. But instead something else fills me—a fiery rage that starts in my chest and then extends outward to lick at my fingertips. These men have no right to me, and they have even less right to the poor child I’m shielding, the one whose terror leaks into me and feeds the flames.

A snarl twists my face as my body turns, the knife blade between my fingertips for only a moment before it goes spinning toward the man to the right. This thunk does not bother me; instead the darkness in me revels at the sound. The darkness wants to stay, to fight and kill, but I push it away. The boy is more important.

I scoop Ethan into my arms and dash back out to the main road, the third man close behind us. The knife was my only weapon, so my only hope now is to outrun him. Shouldn’t be a problem. An extra burst of speed brings me to the end of the block, and I veer to the right, then dart behind a large bush and crouch under the lower branches with Ethan behind me. And I wait.

The sound of running footsteps is clear in my head, drawing closer, slowing where I turned and then crunching through the snow—The snow! He’ll follow my footprints right to us! I gather Ethan up again and am turning to run when the sound of a gun cocking reaches my ears.

Stay here, no matter what! I send as much reassurance as I can to the little boy, then I set him down and turn to face the man behind me, my hands raised.

A grin lights his face. “Not too smart, are you? Did you really think you’d escape?”

I have no weapon. Ethan is injured. We’re cornered. Those three thoughts run circles in my head, but it’s not until he steps closer that my heart rate increases and my breaths get shallow. It’s the smell of smoke that wafts from him that does it—sparking a stab of fear that finds its way from my brain to my limbs and freezes me in place.

He takes another step, the gun centered on my chest. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Now I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to,” he says. “Step away from the kid.”

I don’t know which statement is more ridiculous. Whatever happens, his goal will end up with me hurt, and there’s no way I’m simply going to give up and let him kill a child. The absurdity of it all is enough to dispel the growing panic—and turn it into something more useful.

I laugh—a harsh, mocking sound that brings a look of confusion to the man’s face. I take three steps forward until the gun is pressed hard against my chest. “Leave him alone.” The swirling rage protects me, putting fire in my actions and stone in my heart. The gun doesn’t scare me. The stench of this man doesn’t affect me. I am stronger. I am quicker. And he deserves to die.

The man’s brow furrows, and one of his feet slides backward as if he’s preparing to run. There’s a hint of uncertain fear in his eyes. Good.

“You would kill him for what he is,” I say. “But you never asked what I was.” I smile sweetly and bat my eyelashes right before I place a single finger to his temple—and send every bit of the fire raging through me straight into his head.

His eyes roll back and he falls to his knees. I follow, now with my palms pressed to either side of his head much like the position Jastren took with Jace. But rather than decreasing or slowing, the flow of acidic emotion increases. My cheeks ache with the morbid grin stretching across my face. When a trickle of blood leaks from the man’s nose, I push harder and harder and harder…

“Jax!” Flint’s voice is too far removed to process, but his touch is not. A hand grabs my shoulder and yanks me back.

The man goes with me, collapsing on top of me, but the connection is broken.

And so am I.

The dark heat that kept me up, kept me moving, shatters. Shards of frigid guilt and horror and fear lodge in my mind, my limbs, my stomach… my everywhere. The shivering starts at my toes and travels upward until my entire body is shaking on the ground. The buzz in my head morphs into a screeching pain that crawls from my mouth in a sob.

The limp body above me is removed. A hand slides under my head, preventing it from banging on the ground, and another reaches under my knees and tries to pull them up, to lift me. But I’m rigid with pain, and another sob breaks past my lips. The hand releases my knees and grabs one of my hands while my upper body is raised and my head is settled against someone’s leg. I want to scream at them to get away, that the pressure is building and it has nowhere to go. I can’t control it. I can’t do anything but lie here and let it out. A parade of faces flashes behind my eyelids. Rym, Jace, and that man. Anyone I touch could be a victim. And Flint is touching me.

I struggle against his hold. Command my tongue to speak. But nothing works, and it’s getting too hard to contain.

A voice yells, “No!” Was it me? And then relief as a small, cool hand brushes against my forehead, drawing the painful pressure away in a slow and steady stream until my seizing muscles relax and I drift into darkness.