Page 12 of Mindeater

Council member Matthias Greene arrived at the estate just as they were sitting down for supper.

He was supposed to be the official Maven for New Grove when he was a young alpha. According to Patryn, he possessed all of the signs. His designation was correct. His hair was Maven Red. And he’d outranked several others in his mastery studies. But…he failed his final exam, proving he didn't possess all masteries and remained ranked as a Supreme. The bitterness of his failure lined the corners of his eyes and mouth. With thinning reddish-gray hair and cold, violet eyes, he strode into the dining room with purpose.

Saren remembered his cruel smile last year. How he’d watched closer than anyone else, and how he was the reason it all happened to begin with.

“The Maven has always been an alpha, Patryn. He can’t possibly obtain such a role with a womb. What happens when he goes into heat? The consequences…the scent alone will drive every alpha to madness. It must be done. For our safety.”

Keeping his head down, Saren forked a piece of chicken and bit into it gingerly. Ryx was feeling much better now and sat beside him, gnawing on the bone with no manners to be found. The sight lightened the weight on his chest only a fraction. Patryn slid his chair back and rose, placing his fist in the center of his forehead. A formal greeting and sign of respect. Saren didn’t want to look at Matthias, but showing up unannounced had piqued his curiosity. And he was a bit worried the disgruntled alpha would take away his only friend.

“Matthias,” Patryn said evenly. “What brings you?”

Saren held his breath. Matthias reeked.

“We must speak privately,” Matthias rasped, an old injury making his voice crackle like stiff paper.

Saren was never told how it happened either. All he knew was that Matthias went as an Envoy to one of the other communities and came back half dead with a wound so terrible no one thought he’d survive.

But he did.

Saren secretly wished he’d never come back at all.

Patryn nodded, then glanced at the boys. “Eat your supper. Saren, teach the boy to wash up after, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good lad.” A strong, warm hand ruffled his hair.

His heart fluttered at the rare endearment and affection, a stupid smile curling his lips. Ryx saw it and seemed fascinated enough to abandon his chicken leg. The two men left the dining room. As if waiting for them to leave, Ryx slammed his hand on Saren’s knee and squeezed it tight.

“What are you doing?” He all but yelped.

“Scar,” Ryx whispered, pointing at his throat. “I…I know it.”

Intrigued, Saren ignored the foreign touch and said, “Matthias has had that scar for a long time. It makes him speak odd.”

“Nightpulse.”

“What now?”

“Nightpulse.” Ryx’s eyes bugged out of his skull. A true look of terror flashed within. “Scar is from Nightpulse.”

“What on earth is a Nightpulse?”

“Bad. Eats you.”

“Why do you think everything is going to eat you?” Saren asked, exasperated and ready to shove Ryx’s hand away, but the other landed on his shoulder, shaking him.

For a moment, he could hardly breathe. His stomach flipped, micro tremors shooting through his limbs. This is why they hardly touched; their clashing masteries were often too much. Overwhelming in a way that was both terrible and great.

“Eats…eats…you. Not me. You.”

“Telex?” He took a guess.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Only eats Telex. And…and…” he struggled, growing angrier by the second because he couldn’t communicate. “Never alive. He alive.”

“Matthias…shouldn’t be alive?” Saren whispered, inching closer.

“Matthias shouldn’t be alive,” Ryx repeated, dread lacing his tone. “Bad man, Saren. Bad man.”