Page 62 of From the Noblest Motives
"Noodle. Complete noodle brain."
The kids started giggling and talking again, which Blaze counted as a win.
Damien went on in a whisper, "But he studies people. Heunderstandspeople. So he persuades when he thinks it will work. He tells people he needs them. They feel… I'm not sure. Included? Elevated? Special, maybe, to be needed, to be important."
Blaze risked a look over. The field in front was clear, and there'd been no sign of pursuit. The more distance he put between them and the house, the less likely anyone was coming after them. But Damien, pale and rocking slowly, his fingers unable to keep still, was a very disturbed Damien. "It's kinda weird that he didn't try it on you."
That small, injured animal sound was back, followed by Damien taking a few slow breaths with his eyes squeezed shut. "He did. It was… not pleasant."
"He…" Blaze seized his hand. "Damien."
"Not… He didn't…" Damien held tight and shook his head. "I felt a—a crawling in my brain. But he grabbed my shoulders. It… set things off. Cyril isnota buffer. Almost an anti-buffer."
"Good thing you didn't have a shovel."
A sharp bark of laughter got away from Damien. "Yes. End result was, it didn't work on me."
"He must've been pissed."
"Definitely frustrated." Damien heaved a shuddering sigh. "I have the feeling it hasn't happened before." A spark of anger raised hectic spots of red on Damien's shock-pale cheeks. "My long-lost father. I wished for him so, so many times. Wished he'd appear at my uncle's door and take me away. Wished he'd contact me and let me know… something. Anything. And when he does? He wants to use me. To control me."
Like way too many people in your life. Forget the barbed wire. Fuck Cyril with a wood chipper. "I'm sorry, hon. Sorry that he turned out to be such a psychotic bastard. Want me to rip his arms off if we see him again?"
A tiny smile ticked up one corner of Damien's mouth. "No. You'd just leave it for someone else to clean up."
"Martinet."
"I know that one." Damien's smile was pale, easily missed, but it was still a smile. "I'll fold your clothes, but I won't clean up your murder scenes."
"Fair." Blaze guided the truck's maglev over a pile of boulders without relinquishing Damien's hand. "You think it wears off?"
"That would make keeping control of his… projects difficult."
"Yeah." Blaze ran his thumb slowly over Damien's knuckles while he thought. "He'd have to keep renewing the compulsion or something. Keep this between us for now? Though I don't like the idea of Shudder not knowing he's walking around with some nonconsensual thing in his head."
"I'll wait until we can speak privately."
Right. Damien either didn't want to upset the kids or thought they might find a way to report back to Cyril. Or both. Probably both.A compassion-and-paranoia-swirl sundae with danger sprinkles, that's what he is,and I wouldn't want him any other way.
"If he's hurt Shuds' healing brain—"
Damien's eyes went lake ice cold. "I will help you rip his arms off."
Shudder had triedhis best to ignore the deep ache in his leg while Blaze drove like a gazelle out of hell. Did hell have gazelles? Demon gazelles? Maybe they had elegant flaming horns and struck lightning from their dainty little hooves.
Adorable little hell hooves or not, my leg is screaming.
When they finally stopped for the night—somewhere south of New Chicago was Shudder's best guess—he needed Blaze on one side and Damien on the other to get him down from the truck bed.
“I'm fine. Don't look at me like I'm dying."
“You're about as close to fine as I am to tiny," Blaze groused. “Why didn't you say it was this bad?"
“Because we were actively running away from people with big guns? Yes, that sounds right." Shudder didn't object to the arms around him, though, as his head spun. There seemed to be a lot of arms. “Are we safe?"
“For now." Damien's voice came from far away, echoey and silver-tinged around the edges. “We need to get him lying flat. Maia. Bring one of the sleeping bags, please."
I love your voice. You could recite traffic codes and I'd listen.
