world. Dane slipped his arm around Lindsay without comment and shifted to get as comfortable as he could

with his long legs cramped by the seat in front of them.

It was ridiculous how comforting Dane’s presence was, how soothing his touch was. Lindsay leaned

into Dane, snuggling close, and sighed softly. Ridiculous, but it worked. He trusted Dane not to let

anything happen to him. No one was going to steal him and take him back if Dane was right there, Lindsay

was sure of it.

Dane acted as though it wasn’t happening at all, as though he wasn’t cuddling Lindsay to him, or at

least as if it was the most normal thing in the world. There was something wary about him; his attention

seemed to be everywhere but on Lindsay. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, and he let Lindsay hide against

him the whole way.

The quick and nearly incomprehensible announcement, “WesFoahStreet. SpringstreetNextStop,”

came just as the dark of the tunnel receded and the train lost speed coming into the station.

“I think…I think this is our stop,” he said quietly, standing up. He hoped he was right.

When Dane got up, people moved out of his way, even the thuggish teens heckling a pair of

disapproving-looking older men in suits. It didn’t seem to be in his nature to project aggression—Dane

actually moved with consideration and grace—but few people did anything but draw away from him. He

stepped aside for Lindsay to go ahead.

Lindsay moved as quickly as he could, slipping out through the briefly open doors. He could feel the

warmth of Dane’s body right behind him as the conductor’s voice echoed out of the train,

“StandCleaOfTheClosinDaws,” and an arm reached out to make the warning a reality.

The doors were barely closed before the train headed out of the station, picking up speed as it went.

Lindsay looked around, getting his bearings.

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Tatterdemalion

The station was cavernous, large and dirty, with the same sweat-piss smell that was ubiquitous in the

city. Lindsay let himself be swept along by the crowd of people heading for the exits. He knew, this time,

that Dane was with him, right behind him as he swiped his MetroCard and pushed past the turnstiles.

Once they were above ground, Dane shook himself, a subtle version of a dog throwing off water. The

cold, damp winter air was cleaner, but still heavy with car exhaust and the smells of vendors, smokers, and the various perfumes people wore.

Lindsay pulled his hood up, staying close to Dane. “Why Washington Square Park?” he asked,

peeking from beneath the shadow of his hood.

“It’s a good place to practice.” Dane scowled at Lindsay a moment longer before continuing, “When

you can take care of yourself, you’ll need to look around.”

Keeping hidden felt safe. Lindsay didn’t want to be noticed. He could be seen and recognized and

taken back to where he’d been when Dane had found him. He ducked his head, shoving his gloved hands

into his pockets, and headed out into the park. He might have to put the hood back later, but he wasn’t

doing it now. Scowl or no scowl.

Dane didn’t put his arm around Lindsay again, but he always managed to be in reach of Lindsay, no

matter where his attention went.

The park wasn’t the way Lindsay remembered it. The last time he’d been here, the fountain had been

dismantled and construction crews had been everywhere. Today, there was more grass and the fountain had

moved. The feel of the place was the same, though. People were still playing chess at tables lined up along the benches in the southwest corner, and Scrabble in the northwest corner.

With NYU so nearby, the game players weren’t the only ones hanging around, the park was crowded

with people Lindsay’s own age. If things had gone differently, perhaps he might have been one of them.

But things hadn’t gone differently, and he was here with Dane, who made him feel safer than his father

ever had.

Lindsay made his way past the crowd that had gathered to watch a street performer juggling a knife,

an apple, and something Lindsay couldn’t make out, maybe a cell phone. He sat on the rim of the fountain,

careful to keep his feet out of the water. He didn’t know what Dane wanted him to do, but at least there, he could focus on what Dane was saying enough to learn.

“When was the last time you used your magic without any interference?” Dane sprawled next to

Lindsay, his attention on the world around them. His voice was low, but carried right to Lindsay’s ears.

Without any interference? Lindsay ducked his head, staring at his shoes, thinking about it. The

Institute…they’d drugged him, there. What they’d used had pushed his magic down too far for him to

reach. Until the end, when she had given it back. He remembered the rush, the feeling of being whole, but it hadn’t lasted. “I don’t know. I think at the Institute. At the end. But there was something… I don’t know

what you mean by interference, I guess. Maybe before.”

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Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

“No drugs. No artifacts.” Dane stretched his long legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “Just you.

Remember what you did?”

Lindsay thought back, remembering the last time. The first time. “There was a party. My mother’s

friends. Society stuff, not military. My father was there. I didn’t want to go to the party, didn’t want to be paraded like a show dog. He insisted. He has this way of phrasing things so I know how much of a failure I

am, how much he wishes I wasn’t his son.”

Lindsay looked at his feet again. He didn’t want to talk about this, any of it. “I got mad. I didn’t even

mean to do it. I didn’t know I could. It just happened. He was making that face he always makes when he’s

about to tell me how much trouble I am, how much trouble they go through to fix me. I told him to go to

hell. And then…and then he was on fire. I could see it, sort of, flickering around him like shadows, eating at his skin. His face got the worst of it, I think. I didn’t realize, at first, what I’d done. That it was me. He was screaming and screaming and my mother came running to see what was wrong, but she didn’t see the

fire, and that’s when I knew.”

“Okay.” Dane nodded slowly. “Make me think something…whatever it is.”

Lindsay looked back at Dane, biting his lip, but Dane didn’t seem afraid in the least. “Really?” He

didn’t want to screw up and hurt Dane.

“I’m a big boy, and it probably won’t do much. Seems it works best on people you hate, and I’m

thinking you don’t hate me enough.”

Lindsay didn’t hate Dane at all. He didn’t say so, though. He just nodded and thought about what to

do. He felt around for his magic, inside himself and pushed it out, focusing on Dane, trying to make himself disappear. Everyone else could see him, but to Dane’s eyes, he wouldn’t be there. If his magic was

working.

After a moment, Dane chuckled softly and reached out to stroke Lindsay’s hair. “Glad you’re still

there,” he said in a low voice.

“Can you see me?” Lindsay asked, frowning. What had he done wrong this time?

“No. But I know you’re there.” Dane’s fingers slid over Lindsay’s cheek. “Barely.”

Lindsay’s magic faded when he stopped paying attention to it, focusing instead on the feel of Dane’s

fingers sliding over his skin. He closed his eyes as he turned toward the touch.

“There you are.” Dane’s fingers pulled away. “Good work. Ready to do more?”

Lindsay sat up, embarrassed at how he’d reacted. Dane hadn’t meant it like that, and he knew Dane