A Savage Spell (The Nix Series Book 4)

did. That was the thing about being trapped in this place. This human, filthy place. They were doing what they had to, but none of them liked it.
Susan ran her thumb across her fingers. “She’d be willing. They were friends before, but something happened, and Esther doesn’t care for her now.”
Esther had held out the longest of all the abnormals here. Fiona—or Phoenix as she’d once thought of herself—had broken first, the process so easy, they’d all been suspicious. But no one could hold out against the reprogramming for almost a year, not even a supposedly legendary abnormal like her. Even if she’d been playing them in the beginning, there was no way she could be now.
After spending so much time in Fiona’s head, and a little in Esther’s to give Susan a break here and there, Ernest was fairly sure he knew why Esther didn’t like Fiona. They had fought side by side once, and he suspected that Esther had expected Fiona to help them all break out. That they would work together once again.
And Fiona was the first to bend to the handler’s touch.
To Esther, that was a complete and utter betrayal.
He thought about sharing his beliefs with Gardreel, but it would not be welcome if he was not asked.
“You doubt my ability to hold her mind?” Ernest asked.
Susan’s already pale skin went a shade whiter. “Of course not.”
“I would know if she were being cagey,” Ernest spoke to Gardreel. “She only ever thinks of others, and while that is not exactly our programming, there is nothing wrong with it. She is harmless. Like a kitten with its claws trimmed.”
The boss didn’t move, but the room went quiet and the tension climbed exponentially. “You think my impression of her is wrong? I have spent time in her head, as have you.”
Now it was Ernest’s turn to pale. “Of course not, Gardreel.”
“Then watch her. Dig deeper, dig harder. We need to be sure she is broken so we can rebuild her to use as we see fit. The time is coming. The spell is nearly ready.” The First Handler’s sharp blue eyes swept over the three techs. There were more techs in other rooms, but too many together and the control of their subjects became . . . difficult.
Gardreel swept out of the room without another word and Ernest slumped a little in his chair. Susan leaned over. “I did not mean an offense, friend.”
Ernest shook his head. “I know. He stresses me out.”
She smiled and laughed. “You sound like a human.”
“I feel like one sometimes.” He rubbed a hand over his face and closed his eyes. He needed a moment before he dove back into Fiona’s head. Most of the handlers were given ten to twelve abnormals to watch, read, report back on, and handle.
But some of the abnormals required more oversight.
In this room were three handlers attached to the three most dangerous abnormals. Esther. Pete. Fiona.
Phoenix. He shuddered, a tremor running through him as he thought of her real name, seeing her as the bird of myth and legend, wings of fire, bright like the sun. To be burned to ash, only to rise from the flames and live again, stronger than before.
Another tremor caught him off guard as his skin rose in tiny bumps all along his arms. He rubbed his hands over them, trying to scare them away.
“You okay?” Jessica asked. As the third tech in the room, she had both the hardest, and strangely, the easiest job.
Magelores were impossible to break. But Jessica had wanted to try before Pete was euthanized. Such a nice word for what would ultimately happen to the abnormals too powerful to be controlled. Jessica was exempt from any repercussions if she couldn’t reach the Magelore, and she got definite perks for trying the impossible.
If Ernest got it wrong with Fiona, he would not be so lucky.
He swallowed hard. “I’m glad he’s not here all the time. He—”
“Stresses you out?” Susan offered, repeating back to him his own words, as if she’d just thought of it.
There was no answering smile from Ernest. “Yes.”
Susan leaned over and tapped him on one shoulder, a touch of solidarity. “You are too invested in your case. Do you want to swap? Just for today? We are both capable of handling each other’s charges.”
Ernest looked at her, really seeing her. She was trying to be his friend. Something they were discouraged from having here. But he could use . . . a friend. “Yes. For tonight, let’s swap.”
He would have a break from the feeling like he was drowning in flames every time he touched Phoenix’s—no, Fiona’s—mind, and perhaps that feeling of stress would ease.
Perhaps he would be able to not think of her and wish that he could set the caged bird free.

4
No one came running after me as I stumbled up and out of the stairs that led down to where the Magelore was kept. The bite on my neck fizzled and stung, but the skin he’d torn with his teeth was already healing, smoothing over.
I ducked into my room and stashed the shirt under the bed. Not the best hiding place, but I didn’t want to get Pete in trouble.
Not in trouble. I let those words run through my mind as I pulled on another shirt and headed out. I had to check on the others. See how they were.
Cowboy first, he would need a friend right now. He was probably scared.
I peeked into his room through the window in the door. He lay on his belly, arms sprawled out, the back of his shirt torn open. Welts ran over his skin in a perfect zigzag pattern, blood oozing from a few spots. But that wasn’t what drew my eye, as much as I was sure he was hurting.
The back of his left pant leg was torn open up to his thigh, and his skin was visible there as well. A pinprick of blood blinked back at me. The same as