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open just below the ceiling, hovered for a moment, then disappeared. Britton’s shoulders spasmed as the current surged through him.
    “It’s you, sir, isn’t it?” Cheatham asked.
    Britton nodded. “I can’t control it. I feel sick…”
    He heard shouting. People were coming.
    “Just give me the gun, sir,” Cheatham said, “and I’ll help you sit down. You can rest for a minute, then we’ll go get Harlequin.”
    Britton recoiled. “No, Dan! Portamancy’s a prohibited school! They’ll kill me!”
    The door opened, and a sleepy-looking orderly in blue scrubs appeared. “What the hell’s…” He trailed off as he noticed the corpse that was not quite a bull, then fled.
    “Jesus, sir,” Dawes said weakly from his bed, propped on his elbows. “You’re a fuckin’ Probe? Warrant Officer Cheatham, you gotta—”
    “Shut the hell up, Dawes,” Cheatham said. “I’ve got this.”
    “Let me go, Dan,” Britton said. “You saw what they did to that girl. They’ll kill me.”
    “You don’t know that, sir. You haven’t attacked anyone with it.” Cheatham sounded lighthearted, but he held Britton’s arm like a vise. He moved to block the door. “Maybe they’ll ship you off to one of those Marine Suppression Lances, or you can go into the monitoring program at NIH…Maybe they’ll take you to that secret base and train you.”
    “There is no secret base! You don’t believe that conspiracy-theory crap! Probes don’t get a break! They disappear!” Britton shouted. “Christ, Dan! How long have we worked together? You’ve got to help me!”
    Boots pounded in the hallway. Dawes sat up, wincing in pain, and shouted, “In here! Help!”
    Britton leveled the pistol at Cheatham’s face. “Let me go, Dan. Christ as my witness, I will shoot you.”
    Cheatham didn’t budge. “Go ahead, sir. How far do youthink you’ll get? You give me the gun and turn yourself in now, and you have a chance. You run, you’re already dead.”
    Two Military Police officers appeared in the doorway, pistols drawn. One gasped at the sight of the creature. The other leveled his gun at Britton, “Drop your weapon, sir! Get down on the ground! Right now!”
    Another gate slid open to Britton’s side. Beyond it, he could see the plain again, rough grasses rustling in the wind.
    Britton’s eyes flicked to the MPs, then to Cheatham. It was his chance to turn himself in, to lean on the system he’d faithfully served to protect him.
    But his mind’s eye was blotted out by the image of the dead girl’s face. His ears rang with the sound of the single shot that cut off her life, echoing off the school’s rooftop.
    Cheatham grasped the pistol barrel, still pointed at his face, “So, sir. You gonna shoot me?”
    “Hell, Dan,” Britton said, “you know I wouldn’t shoot you.”
    Britton let go of the pistol, slamming his knee into the warrant officer’s groin, hauling Cheatham’s body between himself and the MPs.
    “Sorry, Dan,” Britton said, and shoved him hard into the MPs, then turned and ran for the gate.
    Britton heard the sharp report of a pistol and felt a burning in his calf. He struck the gate, rippling edges breaking apart to admit him.
    Oscar Britton landed hard on rough grass, pitching forward under an unfamiliar sky.

CHAPTER III
THE OTHER SIDE
    …factors play into Manifestation. Sex and physique have a bearing. Calm males of larger size tend toward Terramancy. Women Manifest in Hydromancy or Physiomancy more frequently than men. Dreamers and mavericks wind up as Aeromancers. Caustic, passionate types show up as Pyromancers. The National Institute of Health continues with the famed Sierra Twenty-Six study group…
    —Avery Whiting
Modern Arcana: Theory and Practice
    Britton fell, skinning his hands.
    He paused, breathing hard. All was silent and dark, a cool wind gently rippling over his back. He closed his eyes. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had happened. The gunshot still rang in his ears,