“I don’t… need you!”
“You don’t know how to love, Fenris, or how to stop hurting people. I’m the side of you that can live in the world and search for a little happiness.” He breathed in and out, his face very pale. “You are me.”
A sound like thunder crashed between them. The air in the no-place where they stood filled with the scent of the Enemy.
Boroskov.
Reality rushed in like a great ocean wave, slapping Quentin back to consciousness. Fenris disappeared from his inner sight, and he found himself standing in the center of the main room, his hand extended.
Empty.
Johanna wore a look of dazed startlement, her gaze moving quickly from him to the door. Boroskov was coming. Quentin could smell him, as Fenris had done, but there was no time to prepare. Shoes drummed hollowly on the outer porch, accompanied by the clanking of metal.
“Fenris?” Johanna whispered.
He shook his head, and then Boroskov stepped inside. He bore in his hands a pair of manacles and a length of chain.
“I trust you have come to the right decision,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“Where is May?” Quentin demanded.
“Are you ready to submit to me?”
Quentin stared straight ahead. “Yes. Let them go.”
Johanna made a wordless sound of distress. Her scheme hadn’t succeeded. Fenris had refused the joining Quentin proposed, and Quentin knew why.
He hadn’t wanted it enough. His words might have been steady, even sincere, but his heart and his mind were screaming denial: Don’t let the monster in. How could Fenris not recognize his imposture?
“You must realize that I can’t simply accept your word,” Boroskov said. He lifted the manacles. “You will wear these until we are securely on the next ship bound for Russia. The girl is in the hands of my associates, and will be released in twenty-four hours. Doctor Schell may leave now, with the understanding that May pays with her life if she visits the authorities.”
Quentin stared at the chains, his tongue thick in his mouth. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because the alternative is immediate death for those you profess to love. Oh, I know you can break these chains as easily as I, but you won’t do so. And when we are back in Russia, it will be my pleasure to complete the instruction your grandfather abandoned.”
“No,” Johanna said.
“Hold out your hands,” Boroskov commanded.
“Let Johanna go first,” Quentin said.
Boroskov jerked his head toward the door. “Go.”
Johanna didn’t move.
“Go!” Quentin shouted. His head seemed to split apart. “Get out!”
“You have five seconds,” Boroskov said.
Johanna grabbed Quentin’s rigid arm. “Fenris! Will you let yourself be put in chains all over again? Will you submit to Boroskov’s torture? Who will save you, Fenris, when the pain begins?”
Quentin tried to shake her off, but the agony in his head redoubled. The smell of Johanna’s skin intoxicated him like a drug.
“I love you,” she said.
Boroskov pushed her aside. Chains rattled. The absurdly smooth kid of Boroskov’s glove touched his wrist, followed by the rough chill of metal.
Senses dimmed. All he could see was red, within and without, and he knew he wasn’t alone inside his skin.
Fenris had arrived. Like a hot wind, he swept everything before him. He controlled, but he allowed Quentin to share what he knew and saw. The two of them no longer faced each other in some zone of truce created in his mind, but looked out from the same eyes.
They met Boroskov’s gaze and smiled.
Boroskov stepped back, as if he sensed the change. His nostrils flared. He snatched at Johanna, but she scrambled out of his way.
The temporary confusion was enough for Quentin and Fenris. They struck fast and hard, snapping Boroskov’s head back with the force of their blow. Before he could recover, they leaped onto him, pinning him to the stained floor.
Boroskov gaped. “Quentin?”
“I’ll win this time, Boroskov,” Fenris said, holding Quentin mute. “Do you submit?”
“Who are you?”
Fenris prepared to roar out his name. Quentin, feeling his identity slipping away, resisted with all the desperation of his most ancient terrors. His revolt froze the body he and Fenris shared. Boroskov kicked up with his legs like a bucking horse and threw them off. They stumbled and fell.