Page 59 of Mindeater

As soon as their connection breaks, the whip flares back to life.

Danny’s fear is so palpable I can taste it.

Wait.

I can taste it.

Ryx wrestles with the thing living inside him, crashing into the wall. The woman, Nina, finally faces me. Her eyes are the same silver as Ryx’s. They plead with me. Help him.

Why should I? I almost say. After all he’s done? How he tortured me and kept me locked up?

Ryx is screaming now. Pure terror laces his guttural voice in a way I didn’t think he was capable of. I could escape. It’d be the perfect chance. No one would dare try to stop me. The thing lifts him off the ground as his hair rises in an invisible current. Can I live with myself? Can I watch him die and do nothing?

Do I want Ryx to die?

I free myself from my shackles and crash to the floor. One hand covers the black mark on my stomach as the other reaches for the whip. My mastery is still weakened, too diluted to do much, but I try. It latches onto the whip, violet mixing with blue. There’s instant resistance. A rebound that crashes into me. Crackles and pops threaten to shatter my eardrums. The taboo nature of what I’m doing surges bile up my throat.

But I manage to ensnare the whip. It struggles against my hold, thrashing.

Ryx realizes what’s happening and circles his hands in quick movements. I hang on for as long as I can.

When the light fades back inside him, I collapse onto my side, and he falls to the ground.

***

Pain wakes me up.

It’s vibrant and startling. Choking on the frigid air, I peel open my crusted-over eyes and wince. Something isn’t right. My injuries should be well past healing by now, especially the superficial ones. I’m face down in a pile of icy straw. Not trusting that I’ll be able to sit, I roll over and poke at my wounds. The cuts on my cheeks are still wet, as are the ones along my chest and torso. Deep grooves circle my wrists where the shackles bit into my skin.

But as my fingers drift lower, barely skimming the edge of the burn Ryx gave me, I tense. The flare of pain is so sharp I see spots.

I angle my chin down and swallow hard at the black scorch mark oozing fluid and pus. If I had to guess, whatever that whip did not only affected my healing, but is acting as a true poison—one that I doubt will wear off anytime soon.

“He’s never done that before,” a woman says, and I startle. “Relax, I’m just here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

Blinking through the pain, I shove up on my elbows and squint. She’s Other, like Ryx. Her name slips my mind for a handful of seconds.

Nina.

When I don’t say anything, she tosses a canteen through the bars. It could be more poison, but I’m so thirsty I’ll take the risk. I have to bite my cheek when I sit up fully—the pain is horrible. With greedy fingers, I take the canteen, twist the lid, and drink. Water dribbles from the corners of my mouth and down my chest, leaving a scorched trail.

“Where is he?” I ask once I’ve had my fill.

She avoids answering. “That’ll need treatment soon.” She nods to my stomach. “I can do it if you wish.”

“Stay away from me,” I croak. “It will heal.” Even though I’m not confident about that, if she’s giving me a choice, I’ll take my chances.

I need to get out of here.

Shooting me a bored look, she says, “Our kind are designed to kill yours. That mark will spread and eat you alive.”

The wind blows through the tent flaps, carrying her scent to me. Omega. She’s deliberately using it to soothe me, calm me, make me listen. It’s one of the only abilities I’ve never had.

I hate that it’s working. My muscles relax, the tension in my jaw slips away. “How do I know you won’t make it worse?”

“Guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”

Scanning her for any medicinal tools, I come up short. She’s wearing a thick coat, scarf, and dark pants stuffed into worn boots. A glance at her hands sends images of earlier flooding through. How she so easily stepped into that horrible whip, forced it to retreat with a simple touch.