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see the bench. Thom focused again, bore down with his will.
    The lights went out. It was darkness so complete that Thom saw bright flares of color as his eyes missed the lights.
    There was a mean laugh at the door. “Uh, uh, uh.”
    Marreau was teasing them. The lights flashed back on. The rush of current through circuits was all Thomas needed. He was ready, focused on particular lights all around himself, and all but one light in the shower room. As the lights went back on, there were flashes, one after the other. Sparks flared out in the suddenly dimmer room. But for the sound of tinkling glass as a few of the bulbs burst under Thomas’s surge of power there was silence.
    Thomas leaned to peer out the slatted opening again. The bench was a dim, dark outline swathed in steam now, a darker shape in the dim room beyond.
    After a moment of silence, Thom heard Marreau laugh again. There was a repeated grunting thumping sound and then a clang as metal fell to the ground. A moment later, metal whined against metal. Thomas wished he could see through the rear of the locker. He had no idea what Marreau was doing. Why would it sound like metal sliding through metal?
    Thom leaned his head back and his breath eased from his throat as he realized. Marreau had just barred the door. He’d locked them in, slowed them enough that even if they got away from him again, he’d be able to see who it was he was chasing as they pulled free whatever he’d used to bar the door. He was smart.
    They were smarter. He wouldn’t see them pull the bar if he was immobilized on the floor in the shower.
    Thom strained to hear. Why couldn’t he hear movement? Where were Marreau’s footsteps?
    Sudden movement through the slats made Thomas pull back, holding his breath. Marreau moved past, his bare feet making no sound. He’d pulled off his boots.
    He stalked them now. When he reached the edge of Thomas’s locker, he turned and peered into the showers, his head tilted.
    Thomas heard a soft huff of laughter from the man’s throat. Because he recognized the bench? Or because he believed he’d cornered them?
    Thom thought his head would explode. He was still holding his breath, afraid to breathe with the Senior Ward so close.
    Marreau moved away, easing into the darkened, steamy shower room, glancing around the locker room one last time before he stepped into the billowy steam clouds in the dim, tiled area.
    Thom’s breath eased from him as he reached out to the Taser. A little closer. He needed Marreau just a little closer.
    The Senior Ward stiffened. He’d recognized the bench.
    Thom fired the Taser, and the barbs shot out across the showers. Only one caught Marreau in the shoulder as he angrily turned to leave the room. The rest fell into the water pooled across the floor.
    It didn’t matter.
    Thom gasped as he reached out to the Dust, straining to force it to do exactly as he needed.
    A surge! A surge! Bright and hot!
    Marreau, who’d grunted and stiffened at the initial contact, was brushing clumsily at his shoulder, trying to get the single barb out of his flesh. Now he went rigid. His body rose up on his toes, and Thom heard popping and crackling.
    The arch of his stiffened back toppled him over. The man fell into the hissing water, and his body convulsed.
    Thomas waited ten seconds, watching in horror. Fifteen. Twenty seconds.
    He blinked, releasing the Dust from his will.
    The crackling died away. Thomas was suddenly aware of his breath rasping in and out. His own neck was rigid with effort and fear. He reached down and fumbled with the catch, trying to let himself out.
    The locker door swung open. Alex stood before him, eyes wide, his hand still holding the door he’d swung aside.
    “Dust, Thomas.” The words were a strangled combination of admiration and horror.
    They stared at each other.
    “We should go,” Thomas finally managed, “before he wakes up.”
    Alex turned to look over his shoulder at the still man on the floor, mist