“I’ve never been much of a student,” Jamie replied evenly.
The words had barely left his mouth before two more spikes dug into his legs, spilling more of his blood to the ground.
“Nothing,” Jamie screamed, allowing a tinge of desperation to creep into his voice. “I don’t know what or who the Rising is or anything else about it.”
It seemed to do the trick as the voice moved on abruptly to a new topic. “Tell me about your family.”
“My parents are dead, so is my twin sister. The only family I have left is my older brother, Robert,” Jamie replied, sullen but cooperative.
“How did your parents die?”
“An eighteen-wheeler ran a red light.”
“Your mother, Juliette Thiessen, was an Inferno. You don’t find it strange that she didn’t use her Gift to avoid the impact?”
“It was dark and misty. She wasn’t driving. She never saw it coming.”
“And your sister? How did she die?”
The questions came at him like a volley of bullets, sharp and relentless.
“I don’t know. An accident of some sort. She was traveling in North Africa. Information from a war zone is spotty at best.”
Even though this was the story they’d agreed on for Emma’s death. Even though he knew he had to lie, it still didn’t make it any easier to say. Emma was not dead—he had to keep believing it. He needed to keep believing it.
“You don’t know how your own sister died? The voice was incredulous. “Emma was your twin, was she not? And you’ve done nothing to find out about how she died?”
Jamie said nothing. If you can’t lie convincingly, then just shut the hell up Rob had told him.
Two more spikes pressed into his back, just below his shoulder blades. No blood. The intention wasn’t to do major damage. At least not yet.
“I’ve been busy,” Jamie hissed through gritted teeth.
“Too busy for your twin sister?” the voice questioned skeptically. “Whatever it is must be quite important—do explain.”
“Busy—you know, hanging out, drinking, grieving. The things one does when one loses a loved one.”
Another spike. This one wasn’t part of a pair. Just a single spike, sharp and insistent, pressed into the base of his skull with enough force Jamie had to lift his chin up, holding his head awkwardly, trying to avoid permanent paralysis.
“You have been busy, Mr. Thiessen—that much is true. But, the drinking and partying only came later. The truth is, you’ve been in the Elemental Trials.”
“Why bother asking if you know all the answers already?”
The spikes in his legs pushed in farther, forcing an involuntary gasp of pain from Jamie’s throat.
“What you’re feeling is the close press of death, Mr. Thiessen. Those spikes are fractions of an inch from your femoral artery. Toy with me again, and I’ll have the pleasure of watching you bleed out. And as much fun as that would be, blood is a real pain to clean up. So why don’t you tell me about why you were in the Elemental Trials. Or more specifically, why don’t you tell me about Allyra Warden.”
Jamie took a moment to gather his thoughts, silently cursing the languid, syrupy slowness of his mind. Whatever they’d drugged him with was still coursing through his veins. He had to be careful here—saying the wrong thing about Allyra might easily bring about her death.
“Allyra was forced into the Trials, I joined to help her,” he said, biting out each word carefully.
“But she didn’t need your help, did she? Allyra Warden won the Elemental Trials. You didn’t make it past the Second Trial.”
“I told you, I’ve never been much of a student. But Allyra, well, she’s always been a quick study.”
“Her performance suggested more than just a quick study. An Atmospheric winning the Trials is a rare event. An untrained Atmospheric winning? Well, frankly, it simply doesn’t happen.”
“Is there a question in there somewhere?”
“Don’t you have questions, Mr. Thiessen?” Don’t you wonder how she achieved so much with so little training? Don’t you wonder who might have been helping her? Who might be helping her still?”
“Obviously, I have questions,” Jamie answered, honestly for the first time. “But I don’t have the answers. So why waste time dwelling on them?”
“Have you asked Allyra those questions?”
“Of course, I have,” Jamie replied heatedly. “She doesn’t have any answers either. This all happened to her. She didn’t ask for it. She didn’t set it into motion. She is as much in the dark as I am.”
“Do you really believe that?” The voice had taken up a coaxing tone, almost seductive.
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Whether you believe me or not changes nothing,” Jamie shot back.
Every single spike in his body pushed forward. Jamie inhaled sharply. “Even if I did know what happened to Allyra, to Emma, I wouldn’t tell you!” he screamed. “Kill me, scrub my blood from your floors. I’ll never tell you anything!”
The spikes all retracted in a single smooth motion. With the sudden loss in pressure, the steady drip of his blood to the floor increased in frequency. His heart pounded angrily in his chest, desperate to compensate for the loss in blood.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Jamie’s vision wavered. He was going to lose consciousness if he couldn’t stem the flow. He struggled weakly against the restraints. The door opened with a metallic clang, flooding the room with light for a moment. A man walked through, placed a chair before Jamie, and dropped into it, crossing his legs as if settling in for a cozy chat.
Jamie looked up. Finally, proof that it was the Cleaners who had taken him. Most Cleaners wore a half mask that left the bottom half of their faces in view, but this man wore a full mask. The man’s entire
