Skid stared, eyes almost bulging, then he broke into a hint of a grin. “August, there're assholes everywhere who think they piss ambrosia.”

  August was so shocked he burst out laughing. Even though he couldn't be trusted, Skid could still be entertaining. The dude seemed to be someone who just wanted acceptance, and he landed onto a bad crowd. He'd probably be hell on wheels, instead of this lapdog, if he'd fallen into a different group.

  August opened the door to his room and stopped short. Kyle's long fingers gripped a phone and he was whispering desperately into it. “And a stream. Tell Agent Wolfe-Martin. It's not—”

  “What the hell?” Skid marched into the room and snatched the phone away.

  Kyle lunged for him. “Hey! Give that back, you gnome.”

  “Gnome?” Skid tried to pull his shoulders back to give himself some height. He still didn't measure up to August and was a smidge shorter than Kyle. “You're an idiot. Who were you calling?” He opened the history on the phone.

  “You're phone works up here?” August was a little jealous.

  “It's an old piece of crap, but it seems to pick up signals really well.” Kyle tried to snatch it back from Skid, but Skid turned away, blocking him. Kyle begged August to help with an expression of pitifulness. August only turned his scorn on him.

  “Who were you calling?” Skid flipped through the list of latest calls. “Who is 'Teach'?”

  “Who do you think, gnome? My professor. Making sure I didn't miss any assignments while I was stuck here.” He gave a good show of a sneer at Skid that almost caused August to laugh.

  “Come on now, children. Stop your quibbling,” he said in a fatherly tone.

  Skid glared at August. “He could be alerting the police.”

  “And tell them what, 'Hi, I'm on the side of a mountain with the Mara Murda.' Seriously, this place is a maze. Not like he could give them an address.

  “And anyway,” August continued. “Kyle's a lovesick puppy when it comes to Teach, eh Kyle.” August added some syrup to his voice and was delighted to see Kyle scowl at him. “He's just trying to make sure his lover boy doesn't forget him.”

  “Oh shut up, you asshole.” The struggle across Kyle's face to maintain some dignity was priceless.

  August burst out in a huge belly laugh. While he was laughing, he sorely hoped Kyle had used his phone call well. He could tell he was giving his teacher directions. Could this teacher help?

  “Hey, don't crunch his phone. I need to call some of my movers to set up some deals. Though, I need to know what we're moving. Skid, you wanna get that info from Redstoke for me? I don't think putting us in a room together any time soon would be a good plan.” He smiled at Skid, a warm, welcoming smile, and the other man's facial muscles twitched.

  Skid scowled and pocketed the phone. It was becoming a prevalent look on him. He left the room, muttering about talking to Red. August closed the door behind him then turned on Kyle.

  “What did you get out?”

  “Some directions on his voice mail. Just little things I remember from my way up.”

  “So you want out now? It's only been a few days.”

  In that instant, Kyle looked open and younger than his twenty-one years and August almost regretted his mocking tone. “It's not quite what I expected... and I don't want any drugs, or to be,” he waved his hand towards August's chest, “branded. This place is kinda weird. Everyone's … really at the edge. People are doing weird shit, and half the time there's some orgy going on. Tim has this obsession with sugar packets and he eats one about every three sentences when you're talking to him. Samuel bites himself. It's like a mental institution.”

  August hadn't thought of it like that. Being around enough Wielders at his bar, he'd become more accustomed to their quirky ways, the madness. But this was a gathering of Tainted and mad men. Skid, with his Corruption, was one of the more stable. The Nerve wasn't pushing at his mind, breaking it into pieces.

  Kyle swallowed and looked down at his hands. “My dad used to talk about skells, you know, Wielder men who'd gone off to outer space. They would wander the streets, trying to attack people with the Nerve or hurt themselves. He would look at them with pity. Make sure we crossed the road instead of walking by someone who seemed... off.”

  August harrumphed. This was certainly cheery. “You know, you're explaining what it's like to be a black man, too.”

  Kyle blinked; his brows furrowed. “Really? Why would that matter?”

  “Something always matters to someone, kid.”

  “When I found out I was a Wielder... I didn't want to tell him.”

  August said in the same matter-of-fact tone. “Nobody wants to tell anyone.”

  “But I did and he just... shrank. He wouldn't look me in the eye anymore. He didn't want to be alone with me. We used to do a ton of stuff together. We were really close.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She tried, but she's pretty conservative. Was too freaked about having a Wielder on her hands. If I'd been a girl, I'm sure they would have been singing a different tune. Sent me off to special schools and all. No family would ever shun a girl.”

  Such a weight of disapproval this kid carried on his shoulders. August knew exactly what he'd gone through. His own father, a sports fan, had taken August to games all year round. They'd play cards and talk about visiting Ireland—the homeland—when August was older. Then August grew older and developed the ability to Wield the Nerve of the World...and everything changed.

  After his father's reversal, August did everything and anything he could to get the man's attention and in doing so, almost got himself on the list. One strike and you're on the list, and the BWS becomes your new best friend.

  It was a bullet August had dodged.

  And now, August was a member of a cult, and he shuffled illegal merchandise for profit. What a disappointment he must be.

  “Life isn't fair, kid. Life is just life.” He patted Kyle on the shoulder. “Just keep your nose clean in here, and stick by me, you hear? Those other guys will do anything to get you into this cult. Hell, maybe you want that, but you're pretty young to be wrapped-up into something so permanent. Life is full of choices. Make sure you chose them, instead of someone else forcing your hand.”

  Kyle shook his head and snorted, dismissing the things August had said. But August hoped Kyle had listened, even if just a little bit. He wasn't sixteen and full of superhero hormones anymore, so maybe wisdom could sink in.

  Later that evening, August was called back into Redstoke's office despite his warning.

  “Here.” Redstoke handed him a phone and a list of merchandise that needed to be liquidated.

  “What are you after? Any minimum?” August scanned the list: art and jewelry mainly. “And I take my percentage off the top, got it?”

  Redstoke didn't seem fazed and gave him a guide for how much he expected from the sales.

  “So, now that I'm in and you've leashed me with your drug,” August said, only to earn a deeper frown from Redstoke, “why not let me in on more. What is the goal? Obviously it's not just to hole up out here in the lodge, hiding from society. You're stockpiling drugs, guns, and money. You know, I can probably boost your profits. And at some point, I need to go back to my bar. It's been sitting there, closed for weeks now. I've employees I need to pay. Supplies I need to sign for... and money I need to make. This brotherhood shit is cramping my style.”

  Rod Redstoke sat back in his chair like a man leaning into his throne of power. He steepled his fingers, such an overdone affectation August wanted to laugh. Did this guy think he was on show? But August waited, hoping for some answers, some clue.

  “Wielders are the next evolution of man. We've harnessed the power to pluck the Nerve, to manipulate physics and go beyond the ordinary. We read minds, we enhance ourselves. Who knows what the next step will be?

  “As men, we have added... difficulties and benefits. Unlike women, who take to the Nerve easily, we have road blocks we need to overcome. And in doing so, we make ourselves stronger. There are cases of men with new and different powers. Some men Wield two powers. No women can claim this.”

  August swallowed. Like Kyle's teacher, who could untangle the Nerve, or so he claimed. Redstoke's words rang with promise, with power. He did have the charisma of a leader when he wanted to. August could see why people willingly followed him, and it scared him. Because this man could raise an army.

  “Through the use of drugs, we are boosting our power. Right now, we need that, because there will be a war. We must stop them from shutting us away. Hiding us like a bad mistake. We are people. And we are Wielders. We have the power to fight back.” Redstoke stood, planted his palms on his desktop, and leaned towards August. “We will not fall prey to their fear-mongering and propaganda. It's bullshit, and you should know this, August. You're no idiot.

  “You shouldn't be fighting me. You should be fighting alongside me.” Then Redstoke sighed and sat back down. “I admit I handled you incorrectly.” August bristled at the word 'handled.' “I should have been more honest with you upfront. You're a man who could lead alongside me. I'd like to introduce you to the First at some point, but... it's too soon. You will meet the Dead Hand eventually; you will see the power we have collected, and that together we can change this world.”

  August's heart pounded in his chest, and right then, he did want to be a part of this. A part of a world where male Wielders weren't the dregs of society. Where one didn't have to lie about himself. Where one could live a full life.

  “Sounds like a dream,” August finally said, and meant it.

  “A dream that we can bring to reality. But it won't be easy.”

  August nodded and was afraid Redstoke would make up one of those 'you've got to break some eggs to make an omelet' metaphor, but he did something totally unexpected.

  He jerked his chin towards the monstrosity of a chest pushed against the wall. August frowned until he saw the top lift, rise up into the air. It must have weighed a ton. Then, this was the kicker, something floated out of the chest. Pushed forward as Redstoke continued to lift the iron lid. All by Wielding.

  The strength and the dexterity required to Wield two items at once completely humbled August. He couldn't do that, Even with his new drug-infused boost. Using two powers of force simultaneously: he'd never seen it before.

  The item Redstoke took from the pirate chest was in another box. It hovered at chest height as he stepped forward to pluck it from its stationary position. August watched, his blood pounding in his head as Redstoke set the heavy lid down delicately, like it amounted to the weight of a piece of paper. He held the smaller box out to August.

  August took it. Sucking in a breath, he opened the lid.

  Nestled in the box was a small vial.

  And filling the room was the scent of almonds.

  Chapter 10

  August froze—a second passed, another—stuck in that moment of realization. Rod Redstoke was the killer. The fucking bastard who'd thrown August down this hole into hell. August's mind raced. He wondered again if the death had been an accident or a murder. If they'd planned to dump the body behind the Black Castle and trap August, or if it had all been bad luck.

  Then he focused on the vial. Pink-hued liquid sloshed against the glass.

  “This is our future.” Redstoke grinned with pride.

  “What is it?” August held the vial up to the light. “A cure?”

  Redstoke's broad grin faded. “It's an enhancement. Opens up the Nerve, lets men do more things.”

  August licked his lips. More than a little bit tempted. To be able to push and pull at the same time, or multiple times in a row. He shook his head. He could understand the allure. “Like Wielding two force powers at once.”

  Redstoke nodded silently, so utterly full of himself and his accomplishment that he couldn't hear August's incredulity.

  “Have you found a cure? A way to limit Taint or Corruption? A way to heal the mind of men who have Wielded too much?” August demanded.

  “Damn it, you idiot. Think of the bigger picture. Once we've established our place in this woman's world, we can worry about the finer details. Yes, we are working on a way to stop Taint, but it's a long road. We must first take the steps to gain control. Can't you see the wider scope?”

  “I see it, but I don't rightly think I'm having the same vision as you, bro. To me, if we cured Taint, then there wouldn't be the stigma for male Wielders. We wouldn't be reviled. Our acceptance wouldn't be an issue. We'd be equal with the women. There wouldn't be any domination—women over men, men over women. You're going about this all wrong.” He thrust the vial in its box back at Redstoke.

  “Think about the long road, Redstoke. Where do you want these men who follow you to end up?”

  “Small-minded plans for small-minded men. I'm sorry you're not on board with us, Mr. Whalen.”

  August stiffened. “I'm a better broker than a revolutionary. I can get you money for your cause, but don't expect me to toe the line.”

  Redstoke's eyes burned, but before he could say anything more, a frantic knock interrupted them. Redstoke put the vial away and nestled it back into the iron chest.

  “What is it?” Redstoke demanded once everything was tucked away.

  Brian opened the door and gave a little nod to each of them. His cheeks were flushed and August prepared himself for bad news. “Red, Hugh reported a helicopter heading our way.”

  “Lights out?” Redstoke asked.

  “Yessir, and fires.”

  Could that be Wolfe-Martin? The BWS? Wasn't the right time of year for a forest fire watch. Though this place was hidden deep in the forest, maybe the helicopter could have followed the road here.

  “Protocol one,” Redstoke said. “Everyone in the basement except the scouts.”

  ~~~

  The next few hours unfolded like this: Men worried about a BWS attack. Whispers filled the confined space. Men stood stoic, strong. Time passed and they all got bored. August avoided the methods of entertainment by sticking to one side of the basement and didn't go anywhere near the lab where the Doc giggled while he played with pharmaceuticals.

  “So, another orgy?” Kyle said, trying to hide his embarrassment with an amused snort.

  “Why don't you go join them?” Skid asked. He wasn't smiling, wasn't laughing, wasn't even shaking his head like some put-upon elder. He put too much effort into trying to edge Kyle away from August.

  “Oh God no.” A soft, besotted smile ghosted across his lips. “I've got my sights set on someone else. None of these guys,” he jerked his chin at the circle jerk going on near the stairway, “do it for me.”

  Skid lifted his chin and looked Kyle up and down. “Fine. Whatever.”

  For the four long, excruciating hours, during which they didn't even have dominoes to entertain themselves and the funk in the air made it hard to breathe, it felt like small rodents were trying to gnaw their way out of his stomach. August tried to tell himself he just had the shits from some animal protein someone slipped him, but he knew that sensation. Knew this bottom-dropping, stomach-flipping, bile-flavored event was his Taint.

  The fuck?

  He hadn't Wielded since… well since he didn't quite know when, because his memories had been repeatedly wiped, but he thought it was two days ago.

  No matter, two days, or five seconds ago, August needed a mango.

  And his mangoes were upstairs.

  August marched towards the stairs, keeping himself upright with sheer will.

  “Hey, what's up, man?” Kyle asked, trailing after him.

  Tim blocked the stairway, a frown on his big lips. “Can't let you out, we're in lock down.”

  “Yeah, great, well you know what? I'm going upstairs.”

  “Fuck you are.”

  “Listen asshole,” August fisted the front of Tim's shirt. Everyone went quiet. “That crap you drugged me with—against my will—well, it's turned my Taint into a greedy monster. I need upstairs.”

  Tim glanced over August's shoulder. August only glared at Tim. Another cramp hit and August hissed in pain. “I am going upstairs. Now.”

  Tim shook his head. “I – I can't.”

  “You want to see me now, on your new drug?” August said, evenly and calmly, though he felt anything but calm. Cramps shivered down his stomach into his bowels. He dropped to his knees, clutching his gut.

  “Just let him go,” someone urged.

  “If you're worried about it, send someone with him.”

  Around August, the Nerve thrummed. He could feel it, each vibration, large and small, fast and slow, coursed through him. With a thought, he could reach out, touch them, stroke the nerve, build it, bring it down, open it up. The song of it would be beautiful. He could dance within the maelstrom.

  Tim took a step back and reached for the door. “Yeah, okay, go. Skid, go with him.”

  The man's lips moved, words tickled against the Nerve. August didn't hear them, or the fear in them. But the vibration hit his innards, fucked with his cramps. Drove his need. He could stop that. Yeah, with a little strum of his own, he could break the vibration.

  August reached out and plucked the Nerve.

  A wave of force blew out, August at its epicenter. People were flattened to the ground, pounded into walls. Glass shattered. August didn't care, the door had not moved. He reached out again—

  “Someone get that door open! Just let him out. You're all idiots. What the fuck!”

  —and plucked the Nerve. He focused on the door with all of the force the Nerve allowed him. The door separating him from his need. Wood splintered. The door buckled, but it did not go down.

  “Holy crap!”

  The sounds annoyed August. He wanted them to stop. With intense scrutiny, he searched for the annoying noise. Skid popped up in front of him. August growled.

  “Let's go get you mangoes, August.”

  Mangoes. Oh yes. August smiled.

  A wrenching noise screeched through the air and the door opened. Skid tugged on August's sleeve. August jerked his arm away and charged upstairs for his room. The vibration was building again. The cramping, twisted tornado in his stomach tore through him. He needed to Wield.

 

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