Omega(108)

                “Sir,” Bastian said, “this is...”

                “Not now,” Old Man Winter said, dismissing Bastian. “Clary, hold out her hands.”

                “Are you kidding me?” I said as Clary pried my hands loose and extended them, walking me along like some sort of ragdoll as I tried kicking to free myself, to no avail. “Clary, you douche!”

                “I’m sorry,” Clary said. “But the man’s spoken, Sienna. He knows what he’s talking about.”

                “This is for your own good,” Old Man Winter said, advancing on me, Bjorn held in his hands. “For the good of all of us. You can save us, but only if you are prepared.”

                “I’ll prepare,” I said, struggling. “I’ll train, I’ll do whatever you want, please just do not...put this sicko...in my head with the others!”

                Old Man Winter pressed Bjorn’s shoulders against my palms, held open by Clary’s grip. I felt the drain of the soul begin, the cumulative effect of touching Bjorn earlier drawing the process faster, as my head started to spin. I whimpered, and closed my eyes tight as the burning began, like the joints of my fingers were on fire where I was touching him. Blissfully, Bjorn made not even a sound, though I could clearly hear him screaming in my head as the last of him left his body and joined me in my own, a searing, joyous, agonizing, pleasurable experience as my body reacted and I felt myself shake from all my nerves tingling.



                             I heard my breath, falling, rising, felt the slow smile creep onto my face that I had to wipe off by sheer force of will; Charlie was right, it was better than anything, better than the sex—

                “I am sorry,” Old Man Winter said, staring down at me. “But you left me no choice.”

                “Okay,” I said, trying to regain my breath, pragmatic, wondering how long it would be before I could get away from him, from everybody, torn between what had just happened that made me feel so dirty and violated and yet tingly and warm —I wanted to simultaneously shower and cast myself into the fire of the dormitory, feel it scream across my skin, searing all the yuck off of me along with this horrible feeling of being used, lied to, betrayed—

                “I very much doubt that it is ‘okay’,” Old Man Winter said, withdrawing. “You are still unready, unwilling to do what it will take. You will hesitate and it will be the death of you. And with you, all our hopes.” He snapped his fingers at Parks and Bastian in turn. “Free Zack from the net...and bring him here.”

                It took about two seconds for my mind to register what he had said, and another one or two before I realized what he was intending. “No,” I said, nauseous, disbelieving.

                “Sir...” Bastian said under his breath.

                “That’s not right,” Parks said, a little louder.

                “You’re beyond the line here, Director,” Ariadne said, stepping up next to him.

                Old Man Winter was quiet for a long moment. “When our entire species is in danger of being wiped out...there are no lines I am not willing to cross.” He turned calmly back to Bastian. “Bring him.”

                “NO!” I shrieked and fought against Clary’s rock-like grip, flailing and kicking. I felt him wrap his arm around my midsection, snugging me tight to him while leaving my arms extended, holding them tight enough to numb them. “No!”



                             “You can’t do this, sir—” I heard Ariadne say.