**LUKAS**
I wake up with a pounding headache and absolutely no clue where I am. Groaning, I instinctively go to rub my temple, only to realize my hands are tied. Actually, scratch that, everything is tied. My wrists, my ankles, my torso, all securely bound to a chair. And not just any chair. A chair I recognize all too well. I’ve sat in this particular chair many times over the years. For breakfast every day when I grew up. A familiar damp smell makes my nose itch and I figure it out. I’m in the basement at my parents’ house, tied to my favourite dining chair. Well, damn. This is not good. I pull uselessly against the bindings, my mind racing. How the hell did I end up here? My memories feel fuzzy, but I push through the haze, trying to piece everything together. Slowly, flashes start to come back to me. I was at my hotel. I had just walked Clare out. Of course, I was suffering yet another dose of Clare’s special brand of rejection. You’d think I’d have a better grasp on where I stand with her, considering I’ve read her mind multiple times. But, no. Her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and contradictions, it’s confused, conflicted, and incredibly hard to decipher. Although I suspect she has more of a soft spot for me than she admits to, she doesn’t seem to know how she feels about me, and I’m not exactly sure either.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I know enough. Clare has an irritatingly effective way of pulling my focus, even when she isn’t trying to. Her mind might be confusing, but it’s like an addictive puzzle, and the few parts I have worked out just make me like her more. Between her sharp wit, her unexpected kindness, and her unique mind, I find myself… Increasingly drawn to her. I don’t quite know what to do about it, I have no idea how to get close to another person, so I seem to be stuck just awkwardly flirting with her. Still, it’s kind of fun watching her reactions to my flirting. Whether she blushes, glares, just straight up argues with me, it’s fascinating. Even when she shuts me down, I can’t seem to stop myself. Wait a second, I need to focus. I’m supposed to be figuring out how I got here, not daydreaming about Clare, no matter how pleasant that might be. I frown, thinking harder. After she left, I headed back up to my room. I remember unlocking the door… Stepping inside… And then… Pain. Something hit me from behind. That’s all I’ve got. No wonder my head hurts. I glance around the room, noting the dim lighting and the distinct smell of damp concrete. A shudder runs down my spine and I can feel goosebumps forming on my skin. This basement, and it’s as unsettling as I remember, I hated it down here as a kid and I still hate it now. Forcing myself to stay calm, I take a deep breath. Whatever is happening, I need to figure out a way to get out of this. Fast.
I have no way to tell exactly how much time has passed, but it’s been at least a couple of hours. So much for getting out of here quickly. For what feels like the hundredth time, I curse myself for having such irritatingly single purpose magic. My mind reading ability is so demanding that I rarely have enough energy left to do anything else, even the simplest magical tasks. Right now, I can’t even manage the strength to untie a basic rope. Heavy footsteps echo down the basement stairs, jolting me out of my self pity. With no better plan, I close my eyes and pretend to still be unconscious.
“He’s still knocked out.” My uncle’s gruff voice announces to someone above.
“It makes no difference to our plans.” My mother replies, her tone firm.
“Come along, dear.” She adds, her voice softening. I assume she’s talking to my father since I can’t imagine her addressing anyone else that way. He mumbles something in response, odd, because I’ve never known my father to mumble. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him. Maybe he’s not as on board with all of this as my mother seems to be. Maybe he’ll help me get out of this. Before I can dwell on the thought, something hard slams into my shin, sending a sharp jolt of pain up my leg. My eyes fly open, and I let out an involuntary yelp. My uncle just kicked me.
“Now he’s awake.” He says bluntly, entirely unbothered by my glare.
“That was unnecessary.” My mother says mildly, though her attention is more on my uncle than on me. But I’m not really listening to her. My focus has shifted to my father. He’s standing there, but something about him is... Off. He looks like himself, I suppose, but the way he’s slouching, the vacant look in his eyes, it’s all wrong. We’ve never been particularly close, my father and I, but I’ve never seen him like this. He’s... Not himself. It’s unsettling. My mother’s voice draws my attention back to her.
“This isn’t how I wanted things to go, you know.” She says softly, almost regretfully.
“But I don’t have a choice.”
“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously. Maybe now that I’m trapped, she’ll feel comfortable enough to explain. Not that I’ve given up on escaping, but if I can learn something useful in the meantime, I’ll take it.
“Your father is unwell.” She begins, choosing her words carefully.
“I went to the demon, and he offered me a deal.” She explains. My heart sinks. My mother made a deal with a demon.
“What kind of deal?” I demand, my voice sharp with dread.
“Him… For you, the demon has uses for a mind reader.” She answers haltingly. I stare at her in pure horror.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I exclaim, struggling against the ropes despite knowing it’s futile. I just can’t seem to help myself. This can’t be the woman who raised me. Surely my mother would never do something like this.
“I’m not.” She says, her tone firm, almost indignant.
“I had no choice. I needed to save your father. Besides, the demon won’t kill you. Is it really so terrible a trade? Your freedom for your father’s life? You’re a good son, Lukas. I know you’ll understand eventually.” She says it as if I’m a child complaining about doing my chores. She sounds so sure of herself, so certain that what she’s saying is reasonable. But there’s something in her eyes, something wild and panicky. I stare at her, feeling a sickening mix of anger and disbelief. My mother, my own mother, traded my freedom to a demon. For the first time, I wonder if she hasn’t completely lost her mind.
After that, my mother has very little to say to me, other than a condescending lecture about how I must cooperate with Solem ‘for the sake of my father.’ I tune her out almost immediately. There’s no way I’m going to comply. Obviously, I want to save my father too, but this? This is going to doom our entire family and likely ruin the lives of countless others along the way. I sit there fuming as her words drone on in the background. My mother doesn’t seem to grasp the reality of what she’s doing, or maybe she does, and she’s simply too desperate or deluded to care. She keeps talking about how Solem ‘values’ my abilities and how I’ll be ‘important’ to him. How he will protect me. As if those are comforting reassurances rather than terrifying warnings. I know all too well why my magic is rare and coveted. Mind reading isn’t a gift in the hands of just anyone. It’s a curse as much as it is a power. Most mind readers end up trapped, enslaved, or killed. The few who survive either align themselves with powerful allies, or go to extraordinary lengths to hide what they are. I’ve been lucky, or maybe just naive. I’ve always relied on my family’s protection to shield me from the darker realities of being a mind reader. But now, with my family turning against me, I realise how vulnerable I really am. My mother finishes her speech, giving me a look like she expects gratitude for this AMAZING situation she’s arranged for me. I don’t even dignify her with a response. Instead, I stare at the floor, letting my mind race. I’m trapped here, and I don’t have the strength or the tools to get myself out. Solem is closing in, and if my mother has her way, I’ll be handed over to him like some prized possession. I remember Clare admonishing me to be nicer to people, to be polite. At the time, I brushed her off, dismissing her words as unnecessary criticism. But now, sitting here, I can’t stop thinking about what she said. Maybe she was right. Maybe I do need to make an effort at building actual relationships, not just relying on my magic to get the information I need from people. But that’s a thought for later. Right now, I need help. But I can only think of one person who might be looking for me. I need Clare’s scolding, bossy determination more than ever. I know she’s smart enough to figure out what’s happened to me, I just hope that she cares enough about my fate to come after me.