“No need to be so frightened,” the man said. His voice was strange. “Didn’t go to all the trouble of

getting you just to do you harm.”

“The doctors at the Institute went to plenty of trouble to hurt me,” Lindsay muttered, pushing himself

into the farthest corner of the big bed, bunching the pillows up behind him. He didn’t take his eyes off the man. He was never safe.

“Good thing for you I’m not a doctor.” The man stood and Lindsay finally got an idea of how huge he

was. “I’m just an errand boy.” Firelight glittered in a crystal pitcher of water on the desk, and in the set of glasses by it. The man picked the pitcher up with one hand around the belly of it, his long, black claws

stark against the curve, and filled a glass. “Thirsty?”

“No, thank you,” Lindsay said automatically. Politeness was bred into him, so that it showed even

when all his attention was on the strangeness of the man in front of him. Normal people didn’t look like

that, and doctors certainly never had claws like cats. “I’m all right.”

Tatterdemalion

He wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging himself. When his hands slid over his arms, they

didn’t touch skin, but some sturdy fabric bound around his wrists. His eyes widened and he clawed the

blankets back to see his hands. Stone. He remembered stone on his wrists. Terror had him ripping at the

bindings, pulling them away from his wrists. His heart slammed against his chest, and he fought to get free.

“Enough.” The man’s hands were on his. He’d crossed the room in a heartbeat, silently, to stop

Lindsay from tearing off his bandages. The claws were gone and his hands, huge and gentle, swallowed

Lindsay’s up entirely. “Can’t have you bleeding all over the nice linens.” Up close, he smelled warm and

good, cleaner than he looked. “Breathe, little bunny. No one here wants to tie you up.”

Panic made Lindsay’s heartbeat and breath come fast. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but for now, it

was true enough. Everything was unreal enough that he could relax.

“That’s better. Don’t get yourself excited. They poisoned you. It’s making your heart work too hard

already.” The man let go of his hands and petted his hair back from his face. “Don’t want to have to call the healer back so soon.”

Lindsay’s hands fluttered to rest on his knees. The touch felt good, and it was a struggle not to lean

into it and beg for more. No one touched him like that, so gently. He wasn’t sure how to react.

“Good boy.” The man kept petting him, soothing him. Even as Lindsay relaxed, the man didn’t stop.

There wasn’t anything to it but gentle touches, the way someone might pet a dog or a cat, but that didn’t

matter. It felt so good. “Thirsty?”

Lindsay had said no before, but this time he nodded. Nodding gave him an excuse to arch into the

touches, to pet himself against the man’s hands. “Please.”

“Thought so. You smell thirsty.” The man straightened and went to get the water. “Healer said to

make sure you drank, to clean your blood. Cyrus will have my beard if you don’t. Best for us both if you

have a drink.”

The man shook back his hair as he returned. Lindsay could see him clearly. He wasn’t human, and he

wasn’t really handsome, but he wasn’t frightening, either. He had dark gold skin, intelligent eyes under a

heavy brow, a hawk’s nose and high cheekbones. It was hard to make out anything else because of the

beard that blended into the rest of his mane.

“Drink.” He reached out to help Lindsay hold the glass.

Lindsay wrapped both hands around it. Lack of use and his injuries made his grip weak, but he drew

the glass up to his mouth without help and stopped, staring at the clear water for a moment. “Where am I?”

he asked softly, glancing up at the man. “Who are you?”

“You’re in New York, with people like you. I’m no one, but you can call me Dane. Drink your

water.” Dane’s brow furrowed.

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Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

Lindsay flinched at the stern expression. Obediently, he took a sip of the water. It tasted clean and

pure, and he drank more as he wondered what the man—Dane—meant when he said that Lindsay was with

people like himself.

“Good.” Dane reached out to pet his hair again, like a reward.

The encouragement and petting kept Lindsay drinking, slow and careful swallows that eased the pain

in his throat and the dryness of his mouth.

“You’ll feel better soon,” Dane promised. Lindsay doubted that. He hadn’t felt better than this in a

long time.

Dane was different than anyone he’d met before—real and solid and warm, like everything else in the

room. There was nothing cold or sterile here—even the water had the chill of a fresh spring and no hint of

chemicals in it.

“How did I get here?” Lindsay whispered the words, daring to ask another question even though Dane

had seemed unhappy with the last one.

“I brought you.” Dane gave him a smile that showed a flash of shiny white fangs. “You can thank

Cyrus, though. He sent me.”

“To find me?” Why would anyone care to take him from the Institute?

“Yes, you.” Dane stopped Lindsay from spilling his water when confusion distracted him from

holding on tight. One big hand held both of Lindsay’s and the glass until Lindsay had control of it again.

“Apparently, you’re rather special. And I hate that place.” Dane’s expression darkened and his voice

dropped to a rumble in the back of his throat. “I wouldn’t put a dog in there, even a dog I didn’t like.”

“Thank you,” Lindsay murmured, mustering up a little more courage. No matter why they’d taken

him away from there, he was grateful. He dipped his head to take another sip of water, hiding his face in

the fall of his hair. Dane stood beside the bed, patient and still as a tree.

When Lindsay finished drinking, he held the glass out to Dane. “Won’t they come looking for me?”

His parents wouldn’t like that he’d gotten away. The people at the Institute weren’t supposed to let him

leave.

“They will.” Dane gave Lindsay that feral smile again as he accepted the glass. “Doesn’t mean they’ll

find you. Don’t plan to let anyone take you away, myself.”

Lindsay looked out the window, at the night outside, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. “I don’t

want them to find me,” he whispered.

Dane left his side to refill the glass. “They won’t. Haven’t found us yet, not for years, and we’re far

more trouble than you. They don’t even know what part of the country we’re in right now.”

Lindsay nodded slowly. “How long was I there, do you know?” he asked, mostly to distract himself.

His time at the Institute had blurred into one long day and night of terror.

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Tatterdemalion

“Vivian tells me it was two years.” Dane put the glass on the bedside table. There was a curious,

animal sadness in his dark eyes.

Lindsay could feel the blood draining from his face. That long? His hands shook as he realized he was

an adult. Nineteen. He didn’t feel two years older. There had been nothing to mark the time. No holidays,

no visits, no birthdays. Not even a letter or a card. Not a perfunctory party for the benefit of his mother’s social circle instead of having anything to do with him. He didn’t know how he felt about finding himself

grown. He didn’t know how he felt about anything, but he shook with it all the same.

“Shh.” Dane made a soothing sound and stroked his hair again. “Lie back. Cyrus will kill me if you

fall out of bed on your head or something. It’s over now, understand? The past is the past.”