Taste Of Darkness

“Then we’ll need a volunteer.”

The three of us looked at Quain.

Quain put his hands up. “Hold on. I’ve already gone through it.”

“Which makes you the expert,” Loren said. “You can tell us if Flea did it right or not.”

“It’s the ‘or not’ that I’m worried about,” Quain said.

“Sepp said he can’t take a life like Tohon could, but he can freeze life in a fake death,” I explained.

“But how do I do that? When Quain was frozen, I had this weird compulsion to touch him. And when I did—” he grimaced at the memory “—it felt like my stomach turned inside out. It was the same when you were in trouble. I got this...sour feeling. But right now, I’ve got nothing.”

“Maybe you need to concentrate on it,” I suggested. “Think about pausing his life.”

“Uh, I don’t like the sound of that.” Quain scooted away from Flea.

“It doesn’t hurt, you big baby,” Loren said.

“Then why don’t you volunteer?”

“That’s enough,” I said to the monkeys. “This is important. If he’s able to do it, it’ll save lives.”

“I’ll try.” Flea closed his eyes. He twisted his shirt in his hands. After a minute, he opened them. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“Try again, but this time, put your hand on Quain’s arm,” I said. “Quain, push your sleeve up.”

Frowning, Quain exposed a muscular forearm. His loose shirt hid his powerful build, but the muscles on his neck bulged with tension. Flea rested his fingers on Quain’s arm, closed his eyes again and pressed his lips together.

We waited.

Flea gasped and jerked his hand away. He stared at Quain in horror.

Quain looked confused. “Did he pause me?”

“No,” Loren said.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Flea.

“I—I think...I’m going to be sick.” Flea dashed out of the cave.

I chased after him. He bent over a bush, vomiting. When he finished, he sank to the ground. Kneeling next to him, I put my hand on his sweaty forehead. My magic didn’t stir. At least he wasn’t truly sick.

The monkeys hovered by the cave’s entrance. When Flea spotted Quain, he squeaked in alarm. I gestured to them, waving them back inside. Sitting back on my heels, I dropped my hand.

“What happened, Flea? Talk to me, please.”

He drew in a deep breath, then met my gaze. I almost glanced away. His light green eyes shone with pain and grief. His haunted expression looked straight through me for a moment. “You can’t tell Quain. Promise me.”

Uh-oh. “I promise.”

“I saw his death. When, where, how. All the gory details.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Flea.”

He shook his head. “Not your fault. I need to learn... But I’m not going to tell him or anyone else. Not now. Okay?”

“Yes. We’ll stop experimenting. Ryne has that book—”

“No. I need to know what else I can do. It’s too important.” He took my hand and relaxed a bit. “Touch is still okay.” He gave me a half smile. “Guess I need to concentrate in order to see. And, truthfully, I never want to do it again.”

“You don’t have to.” And at the moment, I couldn’t think of a reason he’d need to. Except... “Uh, Flea. Can you at least tell me...”

“Not soon. He’ll be annoying us for a while.”

I sagged against Flea. “Good. I don’t think I’d survive if I lost another friend.”

“Me, either.”

We sat together for a while. When we returned to the cave, the monkeys hustled over. Flea took a step back, but then recovered.

“What happened?” Loren asked.

“Flea threw up, but he’s okay,” I said.

“Why did you get sick?” Quain asked.

Flea shrugged, but wouldn’t meet Quain’s gaze. “I guess when I try to use my magic, it makes me sick.”

A lame excuse and Loren was too smart to fall for it. But I gave him a pointed look and he dropped the subject.

Flea accompanied me during my afternoon rounds.

“Another aspect of Sepp’s magic is he could tell if an injured or sick man would die from his injuries,” I said.

“Isn’t that what I just did with Quain?” Flea hugged his arms to his chest.

“Not quite. Quain’s healthy. Sepp called death a threshold. He said he could see what caused a person to cross over the threshold and also sense if they’re close to crossing. He never mentioned being able to see into a person’s future. And knowing Sepp, he would have bragged about it and used it to his advantage.”

“Oh.”

I checked on Private Davin. Color had returned to his face. In fact, a little too much color and his breathing was ragged. Probably a fever.

“Flea, touch his hand, but don’t concentrate on anything. Just see if you get a...feeling.”

He hesitated then placed his fingertips on Davin’s knuckles. Flea snatched his hand away as if burned. “Something...” He tapped his chest. “In here. A clot? It’s not good.”

Surprised, I took Davin’s hand. My magic flowed into him. This time, I waited, letting it seep in, ignoring the obvious injuries. I detected a small blockage in his lungs. If left untreated, it would grow and be fatal.