The cold metal burned my cheek. It seemed... unfair. I'd been in this freezer for... I didn't know how long. But I felt like my nerves should've made like the rest of me and gone numb. Numb was always better. Things don't hurt when your numb. I could almost reach that step. My thoughts already felt like they were moving at the speed of a snail. But that burning pain against my cheek stopped me from fading all the way. I hated my cheek for that. I wanted to fade away, to die.

Linda had been right; she almost always was. I should have given them the money. But the thought of handing over something I had worked for had burned me. But now, now. The tears felt like lava as they rolled down my face. The added pain forced my mind even further away from the numb place I wanted. My pride had gotten her killed. Gotten both of us killed. Over a few hundred dollars, that's what I had judged our lives worth. That's how much someone else had been willing to kill us over.

My hand involuntarily clenched into a fist, the cracked, leathery skin of my knuckles turning white. My hands were so dry; I was surprised that I didn't see any blood trickling from those cracks. That numb place... It was so far away now. The hate had shoved it away. The hate that I had for the punks that had locked me in my own meat locker. That had, that had. That had killed my dear Linda. The hate I had for myself because it was my fault for not handing over the cash. My hand went limp as I went limp in the frozen room. I... I didn't want to die alone.

~<>~

Consciousness came to me in waves. It might've come faster if I had actually wanted to wake up, but I really, really didn't. The smells hit me first. Cleaning fluid, fish, and rot. It was like a dock fom hell. Sounds came next, disjointed and odd. The click of chitin on stone, the rustle of clothing, and the low mumble of hushed conversation. Then came the pain. It was everywhere. In my back, my chest. Even my throat, which felt as dry as the desert. All of it battered at me and made me want to sink deeper into unconsciousness. If only the world would cooperate with my wishes.

"Are you sure these will work?" "Of course I am. Why do you think my prices are so high? It's not because of my cheery disposition! Enough raw power can push through any nullifying effects; it's simple math." No, I didn't want to hear any of that, I wanted to sleep. I blocked everything out and got my wish, the pain retreating. For about two minutes.

Then a foot connected with my ribs. Another agony was added to the pile, and my eyes flew open. I thrashed, trying to get up, but my hands and feet were bound tightly with rope. I looked around, trying not to scream from the pain. The air smelled even worse, and the fluorescent lights in the ceiling made me blink tears from my eyes. After a few seconds, I realized that I knew where I was. I was lying in the center of the convention sized room I had found earlier, the one with massive tanks. A shiver of fear passed through me as I looked up at the catwalks far above me. This was also the room that Cheryl had attacked me in.

"That was for your little cheap shots earlier." I turned my head at the sound of a voice and found Trenton glaring down at me. I looked at the man, then at the ground around me. I was lying in a giant ward circle. It was made up of a dozen carved rocks that had been set into the ground, probably with magic. I could feel the power rolling off each of them individually, and they linked together to form something far greater.

I shifted my attention back to Trenton. "That was payback, was it?" My ribs screamed, and my jaw clenched, but I sat up, which was awkward as well as painful thanks to the ropes. Fear, anger, pain, despair. All of them pressed in on me. Crushed me.

But seeing the smug look on Trenton's face gave me enough spite-induced strength to push it all away. For a little while, at least. I had virtually no cards left to play. I could tell that my pistol had been taken as well as the shotgun. I might still have the knife in my boot, but I wasn't sure if I could reach it even if it was there.

So, chances where I was going to die horribly in the next couple of minutes. The thought horrified me and made the despair push back in. I was so tired, and I wanted just to close my eyes again and wait for it to end. But I would be damned before I let Trenton leave with a smile on his face. I met his eyes and smiled. "That's funny." Trenton eyed me, his smile twitching slightly. "What?", he snapped. I did my best to shrug. It hurt, but I didn't let it show on my face.

"Well, I was just under the impression that payback tends to be an equal or greater response to the perceived offense. Or, to put it more plainly. You hit, I hit back twice as hard." I thought of Ben and made my smile as obnoxious as I knew how. "I don't recall hitting you like a little bitch."

Trenton went still. It wasn't an intentional thing. I believed the man when he said he had only been dead for a few years. He moved like it. Old ghosts like Ben and Agatha didn't bother with human limits when traveling. Ghosts didn't need to bother with things like putting one foot in front of the other. They could just will themselves to go and, boom, they were moving.

There were thousands of little things they did differently, floating through a couch instead of going around it, flying instead of taking the stairs. I could tell that those things didn't come naturally to Trenton; he still had to think about doing them. So, I knew when he froze up like a statue, I had gotten to him. His chest didn't move. His balance didn't shift. He stayed perfectly still. I had just enough time to tense my stomach before his foot slammed into me. It hurt. That was the only thing I could think of. It just hurt.

I doubled over and coughed. I was faking slightly, the desire to put my head down and cry wasn't faked, but I had been ready for the blow, so it hadn't knocked the wind from me. But, acting like it had should... "How did that feel, you little shit!" Trenton spat. From the sound of his voice, he was right in front of me. I didn't smile. I sat up, groaning as I did. Trenton was inches away; his mouth spread into a vicious grin.

"I was caught off guard. I'll admit that. I never found a way to allow my aura to affect ghosts. I've barely even heard of mages that have. But you're not a mage, are you? You're a Telss."

His next words were cut off as my forehead impacted with his nose. He screamed and fell back. I screamed as well, my ribs and back sending out a very clear message. I smiled wider as Trenton cursed more and rolled around.

Nobody came to help him. Maybe they thought their boss had everything covered? Or perhaps the guy who killed his own people wasn't exactly well-liked. He knew I was a Telss, but he was still leaving me as bait. That confirmed a few things I hadn't been sure of before. Trenton didn't just want money. He wanted this specific operation to make money. He was obsessed.

Which made sense, you had to have some pretty freaking strong feelings of discontent or ambition not to move on. If it were only money he wanted, then the smart thing to do would have been to call up one of the mage clans and sell me. Any of the clans would pay a fortune for me. Or, more specifically, for a Telss. It wasn't because I had some kind of special magic, though mine was pretty unique, like many Telss's.

What I was good for was breeding stock. Two mages had no guarantee that their child would also be a mage. The birth rate of mages was one in seven. I suspected that was where the whole seventh son of a seventh son thing came from. Not that boys were any more likely to inherit magic than girls. A Telss though... a Telss always produced children of talent. The vast majority of them mages.

And when Telss's and mages could live for hundreds of years, the amount of mage offspring a male Telss could produce could save clans.

Historically a Telss didn't have much choice in whether or not they would 'serve' the clan in that manner. If they were lucky, they might be treated like nobility, pampered, and given whatever they wanted. It was still a cage, just a shinier one. Others... Others would be treated like animals. Living their very long lives too drugged up to be aware of just how wretched their existence was. There were more laws between the clans now, so things like that were supposed to be illegal. Of course, I didn't expect something like that to actually stop a clan from using a Telss, not when they could give them such a large number of mages. This fate was preferable to that one.

This fate... Trenton stopped cursing. I looked and, sure enough, he was standing over me again. "If you weren't already a dead man, I would burn you alive!" Trenton snarled; his face flushed red with anger. I smiled up at him through the pain. "How did you do that? Ghosts shouldn't be able to use magic like that." I tried to sound carefree, but my words trailed off with a wheeze.

I really couldn't find a single part of me that didn't hurt. Trent growled, though his was a pale shadow compared to Blondie's, and started to crouch down. Halfway down, he seemed to remember what had just happened and took a few steps back. Well, no one can say he couldn't learn. "What does a Telss know of magic?" He hissed. "You live in a town in the middle of nowhere, and run around with guns, even calling you a Telss would be an insult to your kind. You're, you're a hedge, Telss!"

I coughed, my ribs and back aching with the motion. "That, that really hurts. Knowing that you don't approve of my magical knowledge. I don't know how I'm going to be able to live on with that shame. Actually, you already have that covered, don't you? You're a nice guy. You know that?" Trenton closed his eyes, and I could practically hear him counting to ten in his head. "You've cost me two of my people, thousands of dollars in damage to the aquarium. And personal pain." Trenton's eyes held a cold edge as he stared at me. "I suppose I can respect how much you've been able to do in two days. So, I'll give you a hint to mull over before you die. You've already met the reason I can still do magic."

With that, Trenton stood up and walked away. I was impressed that Trenton didn't give me a parting kick as he left. I didn't think the ghost had that much self-control in him. Then again, he had managed to keep this place hidden for decades and was crafty enough to avoid suspicion. Not crafty enough to avoid getting his throat slit, though. But I suppose Trenton got the last laugh in that regard since chances were

that his killer was trapped in the soul cage.

I looked around the massive room. Trenton had gone up the short staircase to the room that I assumed was an observatory. Around a dozen men and women were milling about, though each of them gave the ward circle I was trapped in a wide berth. All of them were armed with one form of automatic weapon or another. Though some also held spears, or pikes maybe? I wasn't a history nerd, but the weapons were long enough that I could see them being used to stop a cavalry charge. I had a feeling that the goons with those were spooks, ones who were good up close. Werewolves or ghouls maybe.

They were preparing huge nets, carts filled with tan sticks that I guessed were explosives, maybe dynamite--even a few mounted machine guns. There were enough weapons on display to equip a mercenary band. I'll give you a hint. Trenton's words repeated themselves in my head. What had he meant? Just how was he doing magic? And why... Why did I care? It wouldn't save me one way or another. I was a dead man. I let my aching body lay back down. My wrists and ankles hurt; the ropes were tied so tight that it was limiting my circulation.

I was done. Nothing I could do would get me out of this alive. I was so tired. And in the end, I was going to die alone. My eyes shut, and I had time for one exhausted thought before sleep took me.

"You lied, Rogers."

~<>~

The forest smelled of dirt and wood and the musk of passing animals. My vision blurred as I made my way through the trees. I was alone. I had known for a while, known that Ronald and Linda didn't care. I hadn't run though. The forest was scary. And I knew that if I ran there were... things that would find me. The people no one else could see, they were trying to kill me. The world flickered as I shifted in place on the concrete floor. I wasn't a child. I wasn't in the forest. That had been years ago. This was a dream, a memory, but one I couldn't wake from.

I took the position of an observer, watching my younger self stumble and trip through the forest. I had been so young, seven, maybe eight. As I watched my child self-stumble around, I thought ahead to what I knew would happen. After an hour of walking, I had become hopelessly lost. Then I had stumbled straight into a towering man with baggy cargo shorts and a bushy red beard. I watched the memory play out, and sure enough, I ran into Rogers. Falling back onto the wet ground in surprise.

I watched the conversation from above, feeling numb as I did. I watched Rogers comfort me, asking my name. I saw the look of sympathy on his face when he asked why I was by myself. I spoke along with my younger self. "I'm alone. I don't. I don't have anyone."

Rogers looked down at my younger self, his face showing sadness and sympathy. "I see," he said. Then he crouched down, putting himself at eye level with me. "I know what it is to be alone, son." I looked away as Rogers spoke his next words, but I still mouthed along with them. "I won't leave you to that fate."

~<>~

My eyes snapped open only for me to immediately close them. I was still trapped in the ward circle, still tied and bound. I was still going to die. I didn't want to be awake. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be home with a large cup of coffee and a good book. Instead... Instead, I was going to be torn apart.

I cracked one eyelid open slightly and looked around. The room was empty, though all the weapons and equipment were still laid out, ready to be used. If I had to strike a guess, I would say they were all in the observation room, waiting for Cheryl to jump me. I closed my eye. I could try and blast my aura over Trenton, trying to take him with me. But that took time, and he had better control over ambient magic than any ghost I'd ever seen. He would be able to defend himself, then kill me or knock me out before I could get through to him.

Sorry John, looks like I'm going to be another soul in the cage.

Why? That incessant voice asked. I didn't shut it out. I didn't have anything else to do. Why was I sorry? I didn't owe John anything. I didn't know him, yet I had risked death to try and help him. Was I insane? An idiot? Hadn't I done enough.

Why did I have to die a violent death after spending my life trying to help? Why, after carrying the memories of dead men? Of murderers and their victims, of abused spouses and child killers, why was I going to die alone!? WHAT WAS THE REASON!?

I took deep breaths, my heart pounding. I had avoided that question for so long. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. Even now, I wanted to shy away from it. Rogers' words whispered through my head. "I know what it is to be alone." A different voice spoke. Not Rogers, or the nagging voice from before. But my own voice. Think, Alder. Don't just ask. Why?

I opened my eyes. My cheek was pressed to the cold concrete. My skin tingled, the ward laid out on the floor had trapped some of the ambient magic, concentrating it. There wasn't anyone else here to help them. I was sure there were some organizations out there to help ghosts, but they weren't here. All the ghosts here had was me.

But was that really enough? A detected sense of duty? Something in my mind caught on one of my earlier questions, "Why did I have to live with the memories of dead men?" That was the answer. I closed my eyes and sighed. Why? Because Alder. At the end of the day, after murderous memories and the pain that comes with them, you had to live with yourself first. And I could never do that if I left those ghosts to suffer alone. Relief washed over me like a wave. I didn't suddenly feel like an infinitely better person. I was still going to die. I was still scared and angry. But I knew why I had to be here; I knew the reason why.