Indie’s mind was sore, like it had been beaten. Thinking took effort and concentrating was out of the question. When he had woken from his fainting fit, he spent a lot of his first day sleeping or just resting. He missed the connection he usually felt with his little brother and he missed feeling alive. His mind being so achy and passive was starting to wear on him emotionally already.
Only when he was cuddling with his brother that night, holding his tiny hand in his own, did he feel the refreshing alertness that he needed during the day. It was frustrating to him and he hated the backwardness of the situation. He brought it up to his little brother in the hushed stillness of the night.
“I feel like my world is upside down. Maybe backward is better. I just feel so weird.” He rubbed his thumb over his brother’s fingers and closed his eyes. His heart was no longer struggling to keep up with his accelerated breathing and he felt his entire body thankful for the restful, deep breaths.
“I feel it, too, Indie.” His small voice was tired and breathy.
“But not like I do. I can tell. You weren’t tired all day, were you?”
“No, but I did miss you but not in the regular way, like you went to school and left me or something. It’s different. You think it’s because of the weird walls?”
“Yeah, actually. Mr. Reid said that they don’t let the thing inside you work properly. Not between us, anyway.” Indie yawned and relished in the actual fatigue that washed over him. The alertness was welcome, but the tiredness felt better. It didn’t feel heavy like the lethargy during the day.
“Mr. Ulrich is gonna teach me to read.” The little boy’s offhand comment made Indie smile.
“Oh yeah? That’s great. You can read to me at night instead of makin’ me tell you stories. When do you start?”
“Tomorrow night.” The boy’s voice sounded distant, as though he had already fallen asleep. “He’s gonna look after me while I’m here.”
“I’m so excited for you, Rat.” The yawn that broke Indie’s face drew tears to his eyes. He closed them and gripped his baby brother’s hand tighter and then drifted to sleep.
In his dreams, Indie could not run fast enough from a rolling darkness that followed him. He dragged his brother along after him, but the boy stubbornly refused to keep pace. He looked back and saw the dark cloud envelop his brother and then a shining, white hand reach from the cloud to grab Indie’s wrist. The dream morphed into Indie sitting peacefully in his bunk at home, but his brother was not there. None of them were and he could not find them. Only his parents, now older and sadder, could be found, whiling away their time idly in the living room of his childhood home. Despite the dreams that beleaguered him all night, he slept well and felt restored to himself the following day.
The next morning, the boy was already gone when Indie awoke. The sun shone on his face through a crack in the drapes and he looked over to the small clock on the bedside table. It was nearly ten o’clock. He sat up and dashed to the desk and grabbed his schedule. He was supposed to wake up at eight every morning. Breakfast was from nine until nine-forty-five. He groaned as he gathered up his toiletries to brush his teeth and wash his face. A muffled tinkling drew his attention back to the desk where he had knocked the silver key to the ground.
Indie bent and picked up the key and its heavy brass ring. He was supposed to unlock the felted box in the wardrobe and sign something inside. He glanced at the clock and bit his lip. He was already late and a few more minutes would not hurt anything, he reasoned. With his mind made up, he put his towel and toiletries on the foot of the yet unmade bed and made his way to the wardrobe.
Inside, the box was exactly where he expected it to be. He tried to pick it up and it was surprisingly heavy. He left it in its place and instead knelt in front of the curious cube. The lock was silver like the key and was shined to a mirror finish. Indie tucked a curl behind his ear and bent down to unlock it. It clicked open easily.
The lid lifted without sound or resistance. Inside lay a single piece of paper with a golden pen, like Mr. Avery’s, sitting atop it. Indie carefully took both items out and scanned the sheet of paper.
“I, Indiana, agree to be housed in the Lux Initiative, this the second day of my housing. I agree to a sponsor and agree to follow the limits and rules set by said sponsor.”
The middle of the page was in Latin and he blithely assumed it was a rough translation of the plain English before it. Below that was a curly, scribbled signature followed by a printed “Alias Reid” and the date. A line below Reid’s name was labeled “Conversion Applicant”. He signed the line and dated it as Reid had. His finger immediately began to bleed, and he sucked in through his teeth.
“Ouch!” Indie dropped the pen and gripped his finger tightly. A large drop of his blood dripped onto the parchment and he watched, in stunned amazement, as it turned the same shade of brownish red as the ink that he had used to sign his name. He replaced the paper and pen and shut the box and wardrobe, but unease left a weight in his stomach.
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As soon as he stood up, the previous day’s heaviness stole across his head and shoulders and he groaned. He could feel his mind reaching out for his brother automatically, looking for the support that his little brother usually gave him during the times he felt unwell. But the wall he met with was hard and had no give. He wanted the withdrawal period to be over. He was miserable.
He brushed his teeth and picked out a simple outfit from the shared closet. The jeans fit well, and the new socks and sneakers were nice. They did little to ease his discomfort, however, and the hunger from missing breakfast was starting to add to his unwell state. When he entered the library, seeing that he was supposed to meet Mr. Reid there at ten thirty, he was out of breath from the walk down the stairs and across the great hall. His sponsor looked up when he entered and frowned.
“You’re late.” He seemed to have more to say but stopped when he saw how pale and sweaty Indie was. Reid set aside the book he was reading and strode to stand before Indie.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Indie breathed. He tried to stand up straight but the sight of the comfortable leather chair to his left was so inviting that his legs nearly gave.
“Oh, for—” Reid stopped himself and clicked his tongue angrily. Indie balked, unsure of how to appease the man’s anger since he could do nothing to fix neither being late nor fatigued.
“I’m so sorry,” he managed to say quietly.
“Come with me.” Reid left the room abruptly and Indie turned dizzily to follow.
Mr. Reid led Indie to a room in the far back corner of the hall, opposite of the giant kitchen. It was an infirmary of sorts, the floors and walls a sterile white. Directly upon entering there was a large desk to the right. The man made his way purposefully to the desk and yanked open a drawer and rummaged around for a minute. Finally, he pulled out a folder and Indie saw his name written in a neat, black print on the tab of the plain manila file. Reid opened it and flicked through a few pages and finally pulled one free that he had apparently been looking for. He looked up to Indie, still sweating and swaying, and motioned toward a cot behind him.
“Lie down.”
Indie turned and saw that the room housed three narrow cots down one side and two along the adjacent. Along the next wall, opposite the doors, was a long counter with glass cabinets above and below, all filled with medical and science equipment. Indie picked the closest cot and sank down and then tipped over gratefully.
“You signed your waiver this morning.” It wasn’t a question but Indie nodded weakly. “Unfortunately, it is permanently binding, but I can rectify some of this damage. You do not, I presume, read any Latin?”
“No, only Jay took Latin. Pops said it was useless and none of the rest of us got to take any.” Indie explained as best as he could and drew in a deep breath. The air felt both thin and thick, heavy, and light. He was hot and cold. He shivered as he sweated.
“Yes, that explains it. Well, what you signed this morning says that you waive the right to dampeners. It’s a simple thing that we can put in the rooms to help alleviate your withdrawal symptoms, but they are costly to maintain. The Council pulled a fast one on you, I’m sorry to say.” Indie felt tears prick in his eyes and that annoyed him further. He didn’t remember ever feeling this emotionally raw in his whole life. He was usually very good at keeping himself composed and portraying a good outward appearance.
“The withdrawal is usually very cataclysmic to a person’s emotional state as well as physical.” Mr. Reid read his thoughts.
“How long?” he said through gritted teeth as the tears tracked down his temples.
“Oh, I am going to end your suffering.”
Reid was at the counter and pulling bottles out of the top cupboard and then a large box that rattled as though full of small glass tubes. Indie watched him pull out a small syringe and screw on a thick, metal needle. He watched in amazement as Reid let the syringe levitate in his hand and then surrounded it with fire, letting it burn brightly for a minute. He extinguished the flames and set it carefully on a piece of cotton gauze on the white marble counter. He turned and saw Indie watching him with wide eyes.
“I sterilized the syringe and needle for your protection.”
Darkness threatened Indie and he groaned as he fought against fainting again. He lifted his head and ripped the small pillow out from under himself and tossed it to the foot of the cot where he managed to prop his feet up. He drew in slow, deep breaths, counting to five as he breathed in and then five again as he breathed out. Slowly, the hazy darkness around his vision receded. He looked up to see Reid looking at him with his eyebrows raised.
“Momma is fainter, too.” Indie explained. “Doctors always told us to get her feet up and have her breathe real slow.” He felt stronger already and made a move to sit up. Reid shook his head and raised his hand, the syringe held up menacingly.
“You will need to be given this daily until the symptoms no longer plague you. If you choose to miss a dose, that is fine, but I will not lighten your workload.”
“What is it?” Indie’s eyes darted to the syringe, filled with a clear liquid that shone faintly yellow.
“Nightbound plasma, actually. It’s been donated by the lesser caste Nightbound, but it will suffice for now.” Reid interpreted his blank look correctly and added. “It’s part of Nightbound blood. Yes, it’s safe.”
“Will it hurt?” Indie asked before Reid could move in on him. The man paused only a beat before answering truthfully.
“Yes, like ice in your veins. But that is temporary. The bruising at the injection site should last only a week or so.” He bent over Indie and before the teen could stop him, jabbed the needle into his bicep.
The icy burn was intense and made Indie gasp. But the immediate relief from the crushing heaviness around him far outweighed his discomfort and he relaxed immediately. The hazy fog of fatigue washed away, and he blinked up at Reid, seeing him as though the first time.
“Thank you,” he said softly. Mr. Reid, clearly uncomfortable with Indie’s tenderness, stood and left him, leaving the medical supplies out and the needle on the counter. He left the room and called to Indie over his shoulder.
“When you’re recovered, meet me in the library.”
He’s going to die before the bond can be severed safely. If they want to keep the boy whole to siphon from, they had better hurry up. Reid’s voice was in Indie’s mind but distant, like he was talking to himself. His words meant little to the teen as he lay, the world around him swirling giddily.
Indie sat up slowly and looked around him. The lights seemed brighter and the white of the tiled floor reflected hazy rainbows. His heart filled with an excited lightness and he blinked rapidly as he stood. He thought he might be able to make it through the day without napping. He decided then and there to not forgo a dose of this potent cure.