Free Fade by Chad West Page B

girl hung, floating, eyes closed, in front of the bed; transparent—being transported already. Her eyes were shut and her red hair flowed slow and soft in the light, like she was under water. The Wraith jerked its head about, giving a hollow laugh.
    With a speed that made his eyes ache, the creature was no longer there. All of the light, the imminent battle, gone. Now Jonas was standing in the center of a crushed city. Jonas saw Aern, on his knees, beaten. The memory of the Wraith in the bedroom faded. He smiled at his victory. Finally, after all these… “No.” Anger welled inside of him. “Stop!” Closing his eyes tight, Jonas willed the image away. He pushed at the Wraith from behind its mirage with everything he had. Cords popped on his neck. He would give himself for her. His forehead was poorly formed field rows. Sweat streamed down his face. This thing would die. A part of him, something deep inside of him, wanted to open his eyes again. He wanted to see victory over Aern, even if it were just in his own imagination. But he fought back with the scraps of his mental abilities.
    His lip quivered. Pain was having its full say. Since the Fade had cut into him, taken the bulk of his powers, it hurt to use the remains. He could handle short bursts if the battle didn’t last. But that ruckus in the woods had almost done him in and he… Jonas collapsed, and that blue light oozed in around the edges of his closed eyes as he was taken.

SEVEN
    J onas woke with a start. The room he was now in was dim, but he could see he was bound to a vertical wooden post. But the bindings weren’t real—well, as far as your average person counted real. There was no actual rope, but no amount of pulling could make them release their grip. It was all in Jonas’ head. He knew that. He’d encountered them before. But, that didn’t make it any easier for him to convince his eyes that he wasn’t seeing what he was seeing; convince his brain that he wasn’t feeling the binding’s tightness. He was tied to the thick wooden post in the middle of what looked like a basement. The room was musty and cool, a broken light bulb hung several feet above his head. It was too dark to make out much of anything else.
    He knew that thing was toying with him, laughing at him; punishing him for fighting it off earlier. But his nigh useless powers hadn’t been enough the second time, had they? They had failed him when it counted—when one of the girls was involved. He’d just... passed out. His head still throbbed. But the Wraith’s pride would be its downfall. Jonas would get free. He’d dealt with their tricks, gagged on the flavor of their hateful cruelty far too many times to be held for long.
    In a way, the imaginary ties were worse than real shackles or ropes. They were a puzzle that used your own mind against you. Jonas tried to look away from them. His eyes closed, he repeated over and over that nothing held him, trying to make himself believe it. He pulled his wrists apart and, again and again they were stopped by the imaginary bonds.
    “These chains aren’t rea—” Damn! His bonds had appeared as thick, spiny ‘rope’ before, but as soon as he’d thought of them as chains, that’s what they’d become—heavy, cold. He felt them weigh down his arms, even heard them clink as they tapped the ground.
    The Wraith did so love their mind games. How many times had they squeezed secrets out of people by placing them in those imaginary worlds? The most unfortunate got a nightmare come to life just for a Wraith's pleasure. But the rope thing was their favorite trick when they caught someone by themselves. The few survivors had recounted how they would wake, tied to a stake in the middle of nowhere—or at least that’s what their mind kept telling them. Those poor souls could see the stake and the rope, which looked like they’d come fresh from the hardware store. The unlucky ones would die of dehydration. Never held at all, they’d stay.