The Last Rite

Chapter Nineteen: A Deal With a God

Chapter Nineteen: A Deal With a God

Aaron was returned while Jason and I slept, and he didn’t bother waking us. I guess he figured he needed to rest as much as we did.

Even so, he woke first and waited until a meal came and we were disturbed out of sleep.

“Okay,” he said, when we had gone a good ways into the meal in silence. “I’ll bite. What have you two been doing while I was away?”

Jason and I exchanged a look, then he said, “Nothing.”

If I'd already sized up Aaron Scribner as almost preternaturally perceptive, here was proof that Jason was equal to the task if he wanted to stonewall. Aaron pushed a breath explosively through his lips.

“Secrets. Take ‘em to your grave; see if I care.”

“I knew you’d understand,” said Jason, and laughed. I smiled, and Aaron gave up.

“Anyone want to hear what I’ve been up to?” he said. “Or has there been any progress on the escape ideas?”

Jason said, “Tell us what happened,” and I agreed. When he was done, Jason said, “This just makes it more important to get us all out of here.”

“Ssh –” I said, extending my hand to silence them.

“I don’t –” Aaron began, but then he did. Far off down the corridor, a subdued, almost melancholy whistle.

“Hunt,” I whispered.

We waited, and soon our teacher emerged into the tunnel. It had the feeling of a high noon, no one speaking, everyone waiting for a warning twitch to send hands flying to guns. Finally, it was Hunt who broke the stalemate.

“Scribner,” he said, “right? I never had you in my class.”

“That’s right, sir,” said Aaron, slightly dazed.

“Gang’s all here,” Hunt said, then fixed Jason with his stare. “Or not, right?”

“Last chance, Hunt,” I said suddenly and stridently. I rose to my knees. “We’re going. With or without your help we’re getting out of here.”

I extended my hand, willing the power to rise in it. Be a tap, I told myself. You don’t have to let it flood out, just give a trickle and get the job done.

I was gratified to see the keys moving in Hunt’s hand, trying to pull themselves away from him.

Then Hunt smiled, taking a firmer grip on the metal ring. He held them up at eye level, index finger hooked around them and said, “How about now?”

“I’m not in the mood for lessons!” I snapped, trying to increase the trickle to a stream without the dam-burst threatening.

The problem was I was fighting both the dampening effect of the shackles and him. Pressure had to be just right – “Just give me the keys, and I’ll go. I’ll take care of Char on the way out if that’s what has to happen.”

In answer, Hunt held the keys closer and took an even firmer hold on them. “You want them? Take them.”

I thought I was going cross-eyed with the effort, not of using the power, but in trying to contain it.

“I can’t,” I said at last and let the power ebb back to storage.

Hunt shook his head. “I’m sorry, Maggie. It’s beginning to look like you’re more of an enemy to yourself than Char is. Boys.”

Almost out of sight, he turned. “Oh, how’s that boyfriend of yours, Mags? Word around is Damon’s looking to keep you for himself. What do you think of that? Would he go against his father?”