Volume I: Forged

Chapter 29: Thick as Thieves

Michael had pictured this ending very differently.

He just wanted to swipe the nice girl's necklace and make a break for it into the thick crowd. It was pretty and shiny and should be able to feed him for a week if he haggled with the right people. He had done this a hundred times before—swipe and disappear and sell and survive.

What he did not figure happening was getting snatched out of thin air before he could even get within two feet of the girl and hoisted onto someone's shoulder.

"Put me down!" he yelled into the soft green fabric, trying to kick his feet. An arm came down on his legs, just above his knees.

"Shush up," the teen answered. "Be lucky I don't leave you here in the streets."

"That would be preferable," Michael rolled his eyes.

"Not with the magic you're hiding."

Michael's heart missed a beat and he nearly slid right off the teen's shoulder.

How did he know?

The teen chuckled, readjusting his grip on Michael. "Relax, kid. Not gonna hurt ya."

Like Michael believed that.

He himself had never been hurt much, but he had seen what happened to kids with no parents.

He had seen what happened to kids with his magic.

That's why he had run away in the first place.

"Where's Dadza?" the girl asked, sticking close to her brother. She appeared to be only a few years younger than the teen, but she still clung to his hand as though she was five. Michael figured she didn't care for the press and sway of the crowd, which made sense to him.

"He said something about getting lunch."

The girl snickered. "That's gonna take a while."

Michael wondered why, body swaying as the teen made his way through the crowd.

He found out.

'Dadza' turned out to be a kid hoarder.

Michael was flopped down in the dead center of what had to be over thirty kids, all various ages and levels of apparent crazy.

And his captor seemed to know every single last one of them.

Michael swallowed hard and suddenly found himself clinging to the teen, wishing he could escape the literal hoard.

They were in an outdoor food court of some kind, easy to escape from—if he could just slip out—

"Dream, what'd we say about this trip?"

A lanky kid with black-out sunglasses and a clumsy paper crown from some cheap fast-food booth interrupted Michael's plans for escape.

"Take a look, Seeker." Michael's kidnapper—Dream, apparently—rested a hand on either of Michael's shoulders.

The lanky kid's eyes fixed on Michael and Michael found himself freezing as an odd feeling roped up his spine. Almost like someone had peeled back his human skin and looked at his soul.

The kid hummed. "Interesting. Don't see many of them around."

Michael really wanted to panic right now.

"What's your name?" Dream asked, ruffling his hair in what he thought was a friendly manner.

"M-Michael—" Michael whispered, choosing something to fixate on. A kid with golden-grey skin wrestling with a half Ender kid suited his purpose.