“Call me Seb. I’m Pete’s uncle.”
And just like that, Jamie was shaking the hand of the man rumored to be the head of the Cleaner Army.
Jamie fought to keep his expression neutral, falling back on his naturally laid-back manner. With an easy smile and a firm grip, he said, “Nice to meet you, Seb.”
They settled back into the couches, and Pete handed Seb a glass of whiskey.
“Mom said you wouldn’t be coming this year,” Pete said.
Seb shrugged his broad fighter’s shoulders. “I was in the area, thought I’d have a look in.”
“What do you do, Seb?” Jamie asked innocently.
“A bit of this and a bit of that,” Seb replied. “Nothing important like Pete’s father.”
Jamie smiled, not having expected Seb to announce his real job as the head of an army of masked Gifted fighters.
“So, tell me about your girlfriend—Allyra, was it? She really exceeded all expectations in the Trials.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie blurted out, unable to fully hide the tightness in his voice.
Jamie kicked himself—that was totally irrelevant. “But yes, she was exceptional,” he said, trying to stay on point.
Pete shot Jamie a sharp look, and even Seb raised his eyebrows slightly at Jamie’s statement.
“Well, if you don’t spend your youth leaving a trail of broken hearts, then you’re not doing it right,” Seb said with a laugh. “Don’t be like Pete here. He has every advantage—wealth, good looks, and every girl for miles fawning after him, yet he never loosens his collar to actually enjoy himself.”
Pete took the joking silently and stoically, as if he’d heard it all too often before. For a brief moment, Jamie wondered where Pete’s heart lay. Pete had always followed Eva around like a faithful dog, but surely, he had to know that Eva warmed the bed of the Elemental High Master—it wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret.
“So, Jamie, what are your plans now?” Seb asked.
Jamie allowed himself to relax just a fraction, glad they had moved off the topic of girlfriends in general and Allyra in particular. He shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I’m between purposes at the moment. I was studying, but going back after the Elemental Trials… Well, it all seems a little tame now.”
“Searching for a purpose—aren’t we all,” Seb said with a grim smile. “You’re in luck—turns out I happen to be looking for a strong Inferno.”
Jamie looked up sharply but found it difficult to focus on Seb. The room was starting to spin around him. He stared at the whiskey glass in horror, moments before it slipped from his hand and the crystal shattered on the ground. As his vision darkened, he saw Pete slumped senseless on the couch.
* * *
So, this was exactly where he needed to be. Jamie took a deep breath and then took stock of his surroundings. The room was bare except for the chair he was sitting in. There were no windows and the only light crept through a crack beneath the large, metallic door. In the gloominess, it was hard to make out any other details, but Jamie was sure the walls were lined with iron or lead, making his Gift feel distant and out of reach.
Not that this wasn’t unexpected. If the Cleaners had taken him, as he suspected, then it was only logical they would make sure he had no access to his Gift.
Jamie rotated his neck slowly, stretching out his muscles as best he could, and settled in to wait for his captor’s next move.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Only a few minutes ticked by before a disembodied voice filled the room. “Please confirm your name,” the voice intoned without emotion.
Jamie remained silent. It was a fine line to tread—a believable amount of fear but never too eager.
“Confirm your name,” the voice repeated, level, calm—no sign of impatience.
Still Jamie stayed quiet. Rob and Laureline had prepared him for this. He had to test his captors. What would they use to get information from him? What would be the stick, and what would be the carrot? Good cop or bad cop?
Without warning, two sharp spikes pushed into his back, somewhere in the vicinity of his kidneys. Jamie grunted. This was only a gentle threat, and the spikes hadn’t broken skin yet, existing in the gray space between discomfort and true pain. The chair wasn’t just a convenient piece of furniture they’d bound him to—it was a torture device.
“It will do you well to answer my questions, Mr. Thiessen,” the voice said.
Jamie smiled at the not too subtle reminder that they knew more about him than he might imagine. “Why bother asking if you already know my name?” Jamie shouted back sarcastically.
“Confirm your name,” the voice said once more, completely ignoring him.
Jamie gave in. “James Thiessen, though my friends call me Jamie. But somehow, I doubt we’re going to be friends.”
“Answer my questions and you might just find I’m the best friend you have in here.”
“And where exactly is here?”
“I’ll be asking the questions. Tell me what you know about the Rising.”
This was an unexpected line of questioning.
“Care to elaborate?” Jamie asked sardonically. “Do you mean the rising sun? I’m not much of a scientist, but I believe it rises in the east. Or the country of the rising sun? Again, I’m not much of a geography geek, but I’m pretty sure that’s Japan. Or perhaps you’re thinking of the rising of zombies. Now, I am a science fiction fan, so I can tell you a lot about—”
Jamie hissed, cutting short the steady stream of nonsense he was spouting. Two new spikes had made their existence known, this time into the back of this upper arms, and these had broken skin—a steady trickle of warm blood dripped onto the floor.
“Don’t toy with me, Mr. Thiessen. Most learn quickly that it doesn’t
