Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) - By Dan Rix Page 0,57

the first time,” said Dravin.

“Not entirely,” said Casler.

Dravin paused at the open panel behind the machine and peered inside. “I pray to God I never understand what you mean by that.”

“You always were squeamish,” said Casler. “Here, I’ve got it loaded. This is from that kid you met on Wednesday. It’s a video of the inside of his channel, recorded directly from the aitherscope.”

Dravin patted the machine and headed back to the desk. “You mean the rugby player?”

“The other one. The one who left early.”

Aaron shifted to get a better view, and his wrist cracked.

Dravin whipped around. “Did you hear that?”

“Trust me, we’re quite alone,” said Casler.

Aaron stayed perched on his fingertips until Dravin’s eyes finally returned to the laptop. Then he eased himself into a crouch, praying his slamming heart wasn’t audible over the drone of the machine.

“Okay, watch this—” Casler played the video, and in slow motion, the screen displayed exactly what Aaron had seen through the aitherscope—three and a half seconds of flashing static—before it went blank.

“No regular clairvoyant signature,” said Dravin.

“I noticed that too,” said Casler. “Fairly typical for a patient who’s sustained trauma to his channel, and that was my initial diagnosis. But I filtered out the static and . . . ” he tapped a few keys, “I want you to watch it again, from my angle.” Casler slid over, blocking the screen from Aaron’s view.

The priest leaned in, and a moment later, his eyebrows furrowed. “Is that a branch?”

“You tell me.”

“But . . . to where?”

“Father, I’m beginning to wonder . . . It’s too much of a coincidence that this boy shares Clive’s birthday.”

“We checked the Registry, though,” said Dravin. “No one was born opposite Amber—except, of course, your son.”

“I know, I know . . . ” Casler rubbed his temples, “but we knew the operation would affect both ends of the channel, both halves. We just weren’t sure exactly how. Supposing the machine skewed the synchronization. The Registry might have clocked the boy’s birth a few seconds late . . . or maybe even registered him as a stillborn. Stillbirths aren't always recorded accurately. Maybe that’s why we didn’t know about him.”

Dravin nodded. “Then deal with him before he becomes a problem. And for your son’s sake, don’t speak of this again . . . not even to the potentate.”

In the frail light, the shadows elongated under Casler’s high cheekbones. “Of course.” He reached out and closed his laptop, his hands trembling.

“Clive seems very much in control of himself lately,” said Dravin. “He’s come a long way.”

“Yes, he has,” said Casler. “But there are still times when he lashes out—”

“As with all of us.” Dravin straightened his glasses and focused on Casler. “You may wish to know your son has been chosen as the heir.”

Casler rose from his seat suddenly. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again, a tear slid down his cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I am pleased to hear that.”

Dravin appraised him with cold eyes. “I only wonder if he’s mature enough,” he said. “If he can’t control that half of his—”

“She will submit to my son,” said Casler.

“Mr. Lilian is in full agreement that you should do everything in your power to make his daughter complacent for our heir.” His lips curled into a smirk. “Quite a prize, she is. You won’t tarnish her face, will you?”

“You won’t even see the scar,” said Casler. “It’ll be at the back of her head, underneath her hair.”

Aaron’s shoulder bumped the medicine rack, and the bottles rattled.

Casler glanced at the rack, and his eyes narrowed through the gaps.

Dravin laughed. “Another one of your tricks, Casler?” He pulled his cloak around his shoulders. “Until tomorrow then.”

“Do try to dress nice,” said Casler, his eyes still on the medicine rack. “It’s my son’s birthday.”

“It’s the birthday of our heir,” said Dravin. “Oh and Casler, about the bruises he had Wednesday—that will need to stop.”

“That will stop when he obeys me and quits sneaking into my studio,” Casler said loudly, peering intently in Aaron’s direction.

As soon as Dravin left, Casler marched to the wall. Aaron watched him between two beakers, as he flipped a switch—and a hundred halogen lights ignited and blazed all around him. Their blinding blue glare grilled his skin.

“Now—” Casler’s voice boomed. He faced the medicine rack, which was now hardly more than a stained glass window. “Let’s find out who’s sneaking around my studio.”

***

As Casler swept toward him, Aaron coiled his fingers around the