Kate Daniels 05.5 - Magic Gifts

Ghastek's voice called out, "Alright, people, back to work. Let's process the scene
tonight
."
    "What's your name?" Curran asked.
    The boy swallowed. "Roderick."
    "Don't be afraid," Curran told him, his voice still laced with snarls. "I'll keep you safe. If anything threatens you, I'll kill it."
    The boy gulped.
    A giant scary man with glowing eyes and inhuman voice just took you from your parents, but don't be afraid, because he'll kill anything that moves. Kick-ass calming strategy, Your Majesty.
    "He might be less scared if you stopped snarling and turned off the headlights," I murmured.
    The fire in Curran's eyes died.
    "It will be okay," I told Roderick. "We just want to take off that necklace, and then you can go back to your parents. It will be okay. I promise."
    If the necklace snapped his neck, there wasn't a damn thing I or Curran or anybody else could do about it. We had to get him to the Keep's infirmary.
    We headed into the parking lot just as Andrea pulled up in a Pack Jeep.

Chapter Three
     
    Doolittle bent over the boy, studying the necklace with a magnifying glass. Dark-skinned, his hair salted with grey, the Pack medic looked to be in his early fifties. Doolittle was the best medmage I had ever met. He brought me back from the edge of death so many times, we stopped joking about it.
    There was something so soothing about Doolittle. Whether it was his manner, his kind eyes, or the soft Southern accent, tinted with notes of coastal Georgia, I didn't know. The moment he walked into the room, Roderick relaxed. In thirty seconds they had struck a bargain: if Roderick stayed on his best behavior, he would get ice-cream.
    Not that Roderick had to be bribed. It took us almost an hour to get to the Keep and the entire ride over, he did not say a single word. He didn't move, didn't fidget, or do any of the normal things a seven year old kid would do in the car. He just sat there, quiet, his brown eyes opened wide, like he was a baby owl.
    Doolittle pressed his thumb and index finger just above the necklace, stretching the skin. A vein stood out, burrowing from the gold band under the skin into the muscle of the neck like a thin root.
    "Does it hurt when I press here?" he asked.
    "No," Roderick said. His voice was barely above whisper.
    Doolittle probed a different spot. "And now?"
    "No."
    The medmage let go and patted Roderick's shoulder. "I do believe we're done for tonight."
    "Ice-cream now?" Roderick asked, his voice quiet.
    "Ice-cream now," Doolittle confirmed. "Lena!"
    A female shapeshifter stuck her red head into the room.
    "This young gentleman is in need of ice-cream," Doolittle said. "He's earned it."
    "Oh boy!" Lena made big eyes and held out her hand. "I better pay up then. Come on."
    Roderick hopped off the chair and took her hand very carefully.
    "What kind of ice-cream would you like?" Lena asked, leading him through the doorway.
    "Chocolate," the boy said quietly, with a slight hesitation in his voice.
    "I've got loads of chocolate..."
    The door swung shut behind them.
    Doolittle looked at the door and sighed. "The necklace is rooted in the sternomastoid. If I try to cut it out, he will bleed out. You said his mother put this atrocity on him?"
    "Yes," Curran said.
    "The collar glowed when the husband came near," I said. "He was reaching for it and she yanked it away from him and snapped it on the boy."
    "So it was probably intended for her husband," Doolittle said.
    "That or it's an equal opportunity offender," I said. "Any neck will do and the boy was the closest."
    "And it killed the girl instantly?" Doolittle asked.
    "Pretty much," Curran said.
    "Strange. It doesn't seem to be actively harming the boy at the moment beyond rooting in."
    "Does it hurt him?" I asked.
    "Doesn't appear so." Doolittle leaned against the chair. "The 'roots' shift under pressure so any attempt to cut the necklace will likely cause it to contract. I don't want to fool with it."
    "The woman," Curran said.
    I thought out loud. "She was unaffected by the glow, so either she's immune or she knows how it works."
    "The boy didn't cry when you took him from his mother?" Doolittle asked.
    "No," I said.
    The medmage glanced at the door again. "The child is very passive and compliant. He doesn't speak unless spoken to. He doesn't take initiative. This boy is doing his best to be invisible. Sometimes this is a sign of shy nature. Sometimes it's a sign of emotional abuse or neglect." Doolitle crossed his arms. "Such an