Nathan cleared his throat. “I just mean that he’s been in there all day. He’ll be getting hungry and thirsty. Do you plan on seeing to his needs?”
Shadrach smirked. “Not for a while. Humans can survive for some time without those needs met, and I want him desperate.” The sooner he talked, the sooner he could be rewarded with things like food and water. If pain wasn’t enough motivation, perhaps starvation and exhaustion would be.
Nathan sighed, looking at the other humans. “This is inhumane.”
“Yes,” Shadrach answered before any of the others could. “I aminhuman.”
Ira lifted a staying hand. “I know it seems extreme, Nate. Just trust me.”
Shadrach turned away. Their opinions didn’t matter to him.
When the sunfell toward the horizon, Shadrach posted himself outside Isaac’s makeshift cell, leaning back against the door with his elbows resting on his knees. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift toward the consciousness in the room behind him. Isaac was tired and uncomfortable, his exhausted mind slipping into darkness as the moon rose outside. Shadrach imagined his head lolling forward; he’d have a crick in his neck when he woke up.
Talon had coaxed Alex into going home. The only ones who remained, in fact, were Nathan and Storm, reclining on the sofa together like neither had any intention of leaving. Shadrach couldn’t even muster any offense. At least they weren’t bothering him.
He eased inside Isaac’s slumbering mind, wading through the darkness and diving deep into the pools of his dreams.
Almost immediately, Shadrach saw his own face, sneering in the sharp gleam of a blade’s reflected light. Isaac lingered on the curl of dark hair over his forehead, the hollowed shape of his cheekbones, the smooth melody of his voice. Teeth scraped over Isaac’s cheek, and this time Isaac turned his head, biting back, and Shadrach’s fingers curled tight around his throat, angling his head back so their mouths could properly meet, tongues tangling and blood smearing as their teeth clashed.
It seemed Shadrach wasn’t the only one who had complicated feelings about their interaction earlier.
With some effort, he pushed that dream aside—intriguing though it may have been—to search for something guild related. That was why he was here, after all. To find out the guild’s dark secrets. To discover their plans for the Sentinels and their demonic companions.
“This will be your room, Isaac.”
Shadrach turned, finding himself in a child’s room. There were two beds on opposite sides, each with an identical bedside table. A pair of desks sat between them, separating the two spaces. A brown-haired boy sat on his bed, playing with some action figures.
Tiny, red-haired Isaac entered the room with a young black man in a white lab coat. Isaac’s mossy green eyes were just as cold at this age as they were in the present day. They swept around the room, taking in the pale blue walls and the stained rocketship rug. Lastly, they settled on the boy who would be his roommate.
“This is Frederic. Frederic, say hello to Isaac. He’ll be your new roommate.”
“Hello!” Frederic waved enthusiastically, bounding off the bed.
Isaac shrank away, not out of fear but revulsion, scowling at the other boy’s exuberance.
Frederic didn’t seem to notice. He reached out, snagging Isaac’s hand and lifting it. “You can call me Freddy. What happened to your hand?”
There were skin-toned bandaids on each fingertip.
Isaac looked away, as though the boy were inconsequential. “I was counting the minutes. Doctor Maxwell says I shouldn’t do that.”
“Counting minutes hurt your fingers?” Frederic asked, looking to the doctor, who shook his head to indicate Frederic shouldn’t ask.
“Which one will be my bed?”
Darkness swept in before anyone could answer, and the scene changed. Quickly, a new one formed. A group of teenagers stood in a group inside a fenced ring of sand, practice swords in hand. Isaac was easily recognizable, his hair a splash of crimson. His face was a snarl of concentration as he engaged another boy in aduel. It was unsanctioned, if the shouts of the other children was any indication. Isaac was leagues better than the boy he was fighting, dodging ill-timed attacks with ease and sweeping past the boy’s guard, grabbing him by the arm and flinging him over his shoulder to the dirt.
Then he was standing in a quiet office, his head bowed, and a man Shadrach recognized as a younger Commander Sloan was staring at him in disappointment. Isaac had a smear of dirt on his cheek.
“You shouldn’t have done that. You could have seriously hurt Frederic. You’re lucky all he had was bruises.”
“He called me a freak,” Isaac said.
Sloan sighed. “That doesn’t make it okay to hurt him.”
“Why is he allowed to hurt me, but I’m not allowed to hurt him?”
Sloan shot him an arch look. “Are you seriously telling me Frederic’s words hurt you to the same degree that you hurt him out in the training yard today?”
