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and belly put a lie to that. No words, but the way that he stood, arms loose at his side with his palms facing forward, was clear enough for Lindsay to read: As you will .
    That kind of subservience made Lindsay’s skin crawl. He hoped there was something beneath it beyond more of the same.
    Lindsay closed the distance between them with a hand on Noah’s bare chest, careful of where his flesh was still raw. Noah’s skin felt like the fire of his magic, and his heart was pounding under Lindsay’s palm. Fear? Anticipation? Lindsay couldn’t be sure, and he didn’t think Noah would tell him if he asked.
    He knew what Noah’s magic was and, after watching him these last few days, had a good idea how it was triggered inside him. Even so, casting the net of his illusion wasn’t an easy task. He had to be certain Noah’s magic would go untouched as Noah drew on it—that the magic answering Noah’s call would be merely an illusion responding exactly as Noah’s own magic would.
    Noah’s magic would kill them both if Lindsay wasn’t careful.
    Somehow, and Lindsay didn’t know how, Noah let him in. It was as though he opened all the doors and let Lindsay walk in and out of his magic and his mind. This didn’t feel like submission. More like... practice . As though Noah knew someone else who could do mind magic. And Lindsay thought that, maybe, if Noah wanted, he could have tried to keep Lindsay out.
    As Lindsay worked, Noah’s heart slowed and grew steady. It was still quick, but not so desperate and roaring and faltering all at once. Lindsay could focus on the magic without distraction.
    Finally, his magic was as solid as Lindsay could make it, and he hoped it would be enough. He let his hand fall to his side and stepped back to give Noah some space.

    “You can let it out,” Lindsay said. If he had done his magic well, Noah would grasp the illusory magic Lindsay had woven over the real thing. Noah’s mind and body would believe that the magic it wielded was real, not Lindsay’s carefully conjured virtual reality. Better still, Lindsay would be able to watch the process from within.
    Noah backed away, walking the narrow beam without looking behind him. Then he stopped and stood there, eyes closed. A glow crept over his skin, a thin shimmering veil of white heat. Fire. Thinner than paper, softer than silk.
    Lindsay could feel what Noah felt—pure, destructive power draped over him like a cloak. Tendrils dripped down to splash on the steel beam, sinking into the metal like a hot needle drawing shapes in butter.
    Under the cloak lay anger, like the fire trapped it against Noah’s skin. A rage so great it made the fire seem as plain as old cotton sheets.
    “Let it go, Noah.”
    The force of it knocked Lindsay back a step—the anger, not the illusion of the fire. The anger was real. The fire ripped outward and upward, through the roof of the school. Talons and tentacles of it plunged down into the earth, through concrete and steel.
    There was no end to it. The fire grew higher and wide, fifty feet and a hundred and more. A maelstrom grew as the fire fed on the air. It was ravenous. Noah spread his arms and let his head fall back—the fire unfurled red wings, opened up a ragged beak that screamed and snapped at the clouds, and it wasn’t done.
    Noah wasn’t tired. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t beginning to try . A lash of fire flailed through the gym and smashed down across the empty pool, filling the air there with the shrapnel of broken tile.
    The power was incredible, but the rage burned so deep in Noah that Lindsay couldn’t begin to see the bottom. Noah’s magic was dangerous, and Lindsay could see why someone would send him to Cyrus for safety, but the magic wasn’t Noah’s problem. Noah had complete control over the magic. What he wasn’t in control of was himself .
    The anger inside him held all the heat the illusory fire lacked. It was hot and white and ready to rip him wide open with the slightest