He got out of the van and checked that he had nothing on him, no cash, nothing that could identify him, no crumpled receipts in the bottoms of his pockets. Nothing but the tattoo that was visible to him and no one else.

“I’ll go ahead,” he said as Lindsay got out of the van. “See if you can see through me and speak to me for sure.”

“Remember not to answer me out loud.” It was Lindsay’s voice whispering in his ear, but it was no more real than the rose on his wrist.

“I won’t forget. ”

Noah had no idea if Lindsay heard him or not, but all that mattered was that Lindsay could keep track of things. He looked over his shoulder one more time. Lindsay would ensure he wasn’t seen, Ylli would grab whoever came off the bus, and all he had to do was board, liberate some poor sod, and let the rest happen. He wasn’t good at the last part, but he’d manage.

“I’m with you. You’re good to go.”

The door of the bus opened and a guard stepped out, walking over to the pump. The door stayed open.

Noah took the steps all at once, and slipped past the oblivious driver. It was eerie, like a dream, to be walking around invisible to everyone. The passengers were all quiet, mostly sleeping, some staring blankly out the windows. Noah knew what stoned looked like, and that was it. There was a passenger three rows back who seemed about his height and weight; better yet, the guy was wearing a hooded sweatshirt that he had pulled up so it was hard to see his face.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Noah muttered. The man stank of sweat and cigarettes, and he lolled limply as Noah stripped the sweatshirt off of him. Noah tugged it on and got the man’s arm around his neck, heaving him to his feet.

To Noah’s surprise, the man half-woke but didn’t get belligerent. Mumbling cheerfully, he let Noah walk him to the steps. The two guards sitting next to the steps didn’t look up from their respective smart phones; Lindsay’s illusion was working. From the flicker and glow of the screens, Noah guessed that one was playing a game and the other was reading.

“So, what’s your name?” It was worth a try, and Noah had no idea if they’d bothered to take names and keep a headcount.

The slurred reply sounded something like “Alex King”. Noah would take it. If he pretended to be as heavily influenced as this guy, he could have gotten away with “King Kong”.

Noah let Ylli pull the man off the bus, then went and took his place. It was hard to feign the boneless sag and dull reaction of someone drugged when adrenaline was flooding his brain, but Noah made himself relax. He focused on the rose on his right wrist, on the glow of it and the shading of the petals.

When the guard who had been pumping gas got back on and took his seat behind the driver, Noah’s heart tried to climb up his throat. He couldn’t risk any kind of reaction, couldn’t screw this up for everyone because he got a case of nerves. The mental exercises from his childhood were familiar enough that he drew on them to keep his mind busy while a guard from the back—one he hadn’t seen—started a slow walk up the aisle.

The bus rumbled and lurched, and pulled away from the pumps, heading back onto the highway.

Noah’s seatmate sat up a little, but Noah couldn’t see what caused it. The downside to having his face obscured was giving up his vision.

“Relax there, buddy,” the guard said reassuringly. “Not much farther to go.”

When his seatmate settled down, Noah realized he’d been holding his breath. Not much farther to go.

Out the window, their destination looked like any other industrial park lined in grass and trees to make it seem less imposing. A curving two-lane road took them past parking lots and buildings that would have been at home on a university campus.

The bus pulled to a stop in front of one of the lower buildings, one with a single row of parking spaces out front. Instead of cars, there were people standing in the parking spaces, some with white lab coats and others who looked similar to the men from Wildwood that Lindsay had called—

“Hounds. Be careful, Noah.”

No chance he was going to be anything but careful. The guards were coming up the aisle, waking passengers. Every once in a while, Noah heard a sharp hiss, like something from a compression canister. As he stumbled to his feet in response to a cuff from a guard, he caught a glimpse of what made the noise. It looked like a small can of pepper spray, but whatever came out couldn’t be smelled on the air. Where the person was sprayed, their skin went white like frostbite and they jerked like it was painful.

Noah wasn’t sticking around to see more. It was effective, he had to give them that. Maybe it was like cold water to the face. He hoped that was all it was.

Off the bus and on his feet, Noah felt a great pressure bearing down on him, the weight of magic.

Elementalists were always more inclined to feel magic, even to see it. The air was thick with it, like he was swimming in honey. It was thicker here than it had been where he’d found Ylli and Zoey. It clung and flowed around him, drawn in by his power and Lindsay’s.

A wild sound like a hyena’s hacking laugh coming from a human throat startled Noah, and he stumbled back into a cluster of other passengers, trying to stay close so he wouldn’t be singled out. Without warning, one, then two of the Hounds came at him, dropping from two legs to four, bodies and faces becoming more feral with every bound. He could see it in their mad eyes. They know.

The scientists and guards were shouting, scrambling and scattering, trying to restore order. Someone screamed and the jumpy man who had been Noah’s seatmate bolted from the group. The motion must have triggered some primal animal instinct in the Hounds because they changed course and more of them broke free to join the chase.

It was over in moments. Noah didn’t count more than seven strides before the Hounds took him down, no more than two heartbeats before the screaming stopped. Armed men in uniform flooded the parking lot.

Some surrounded the new arrivals, including Noah, and herded them away as the rest attempted to bring the Hounds to heel. The howls from the Hounds sounded like the baying of hunting dogs.

Noah looked back in time to see one break away from the scrum and come barreling at him. There was a light in its eyes that said more than language that it knew the truth of what he was, and he bit back his magic with every scrap of discipline he could muster. It leapt and would have cleared the guards except for the tasers that struck it, one after the other. Writhing, it hit the ground only feet away, and Noah could see the blood that covered its forelegs to the elbows and its long, feral face to the hairline. The sound of its teeth snapping and its claws raking asphalt was chilling.

Noah crammed down his gut reaction and turned away, following the guards as all the passengers were shuffled through a pair of gray doors set in the side of the building. He didn’t want to let emotion get the better of him, for his own sake and for Lindsay’s. He was fine. “I’m fine. ”

He kept telling himself that as they were led into what looked like the room where he’d taken the written exam for his driver’s license. The last thing he needed was for his magic to betray him now.

There were white-coated scientists with clipboards that held forms to be filled out by the “applicants”, everything down to salary expectations. He watched the others, docile and obedient, and realized quickly that they didn’t give a damn what you put down. They did like you to sign on the dotted line. Alex King was happy to do that for them.

It all felt like a slippery slope, as much as Noah tried to keep his mind on the goal, telling himself that the deeper he fell, the closer he was to winning. That kept him calm through losing his clothes in return for a hospital gown and having his head shaved.