Darkness.

All around him.

The cold clank of chains and the distant grumble of thunder crawled up his skin. His arms, pinned to his sides. His knees locked in place, his head weighted down as though iron bars had been fastened to his forehead.

He tried to breathe, but his lungs felt full.

Bound. Caged. Suffocating.

So dark.

Not alone.

The scrape of unseen eyes stood the hair on his neck upright. A soft green glow on his brow illuminated jagged fingers like bone threading through the shadows, scratching at his face. Dragging sharp nails across his skin like bolts of fire.

Blazing pain shot down down his spine, flooded over his face and arms and chest as though he’d been dropped in scalding oil. His voice caught in his throat, trapped, muzzled.

He couldn’t move.

No escape. No help.

Only black flames in the dark.

Burning alive. 

And his mother screaming—

Sam bolted upright in bed, so fast he lost his balance. He tumbled to the floor, dragging the sheets with him. He sprawled on the carpet gasping and rolled to his back. The ceiling of his hotel room blurred in his gaze, and he pushed himself up, chest heaving. He couldn’t catch his breath.

Clutching the side of his head, he shifted to rest his back against the side of the bed and tried to rein in the wild emotions trying to shake him apart from the inside out.

What was that?

Was it the same dream he’d been having? He’d never remembered any of it before. Why would it have been so vivid this time?

Unless it was being reunited with Gideon.

Phantom pain spiked down his left arm, and he curled his fingers around the scars on his shoulder. He clutched the ruined skin until the pain faded. It eventually always did when he dreamed of that night. He just hadn’t dreamed of it for so long.

 Growling in anger, he surged off the floor and strode to the sink. He ran cold water into his hands and splashed it on his face, droplets raining on his bare chest and dipping down his arms and stomach.

It was a long time ago.

He clenched his eyes shut.

It doesn’t matter.

Bracing his arms on the sink, he breathed in slowly and out again. He grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped his face dry, avoiding the image of himself in the mirror.

Sleeping shirtless was never a good idea at the Davalos estate when you had scars to hide. You never knew when some idiot Midwesterner would burst into your room and try to drown you in silly string, though to be fair the one time Karl had tried it, Sam had beaten him within an inch of his stupid life. He hadn’t tried it again.

The hotel allowed more privacy than he’d had in years, but looking at his own scars brought up memories he didn’t like to dwell on. He might not be able to stop his dreams, but he didn’t have to look at himself.

He grabbed a t-shirt from a drawer and pulled it over his head as he sank to the side of the mattress.

His heart rate was slowing down to something human.

The clock on the nightstand beeped, announcing the ungodly hour. Four in the morning. Adjusting for the time change between the West Coast and the East Coast was bad enough without adding his own sleep issues into the mix.

Today was the day they were meeting Gideon for lunch.

As if yesterday night hadn’t been bad enough, Mia wanted to have a meal with Gideon before they left to go back to San Francisco. Sam hadn’t thought it could get worse, until she informed him that Karl and Stan were coming too.

Once Karl found out who Gideon was, he would be like a bulldog with a bone. He wouldn’t stop until he’d plumbed Gideon for every embarrassing story about Sam’s childhood years.

I’d better start thinking of threats now to shut him up. I should check with Stan to see if hot tea to the crotch was actually an effective deterrent.

A knock on the window made him freeze. Sam slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and his mouth dropped open. Perched on the railing outside his hotel window—his hotel room on the tenth floor—was a blue samurai armor with an ornamental golden horn. As he stared, the samurai waved at him.

Speak of the devil, and he will appear.

Sam crossed the room in three strides and threw the window open. “What are you doing?”

The blue samurai slid into the room and pulled off his helmet. Thick reddish-brown locks tumbled around Stan’s big blue eyes as he smiled up at Sam.

“I heard you across the city.” Stan shrugged his armored shoulders.

Sam scowled. “You heard me?”

“Aye.”

Sam planted his face in his palm. “Would you get out of that thing? If someone sees you, we’re screwed.” He shut the window and closed the curtains.

Stan put his helmet back on and called the armor down with a soft mutter, “Kieru so.” In a flash of blue light, the armor vanished, leaving the teenager in plaid pajama pants and a Bay School of San Francisco Orchestra shirt that was about three sizes too big for him.

Sam sank into the chair in the corner. “What do you mean you heard me?”

Stan jumped on the end of the bed and grinned. “Well, that’s comfy.”

“Stan. Focus.”

“Aye.” He stiffened. “I heard you.”

“You keep saying that. What do you mean?”

Stan held up his hands. “I heard you in my mind. Loud too. You woke me up.”

Sam leaned back in the chair and scratched at his chin. “Armorlink?”

“That’s what I thought.” Stan shifted to cross his legs under himself. “It’s what it felt like. Kind of.”

Sam frowned.

The Reishosan Armors were connected by a telepathic link, supposedly. Sam had never been able to access it, so he hadn’t experienced it first hand. But all four of the others had figured it out somehow.

“You said kind of,” Sam said.

“It was foggy,” Stan said, his eyebrows drawing together. “And—rather frightening to be honest. You were—”

Sam waited. Stan didn’t finish.

“I was what?”

“Scared.” Stan finally said.

“I don’t get scared.”

Stan shrugged again. “I know. That’s why I was worried. It’s why I came.”

Sam chewed on the inside of his cheek as he pressed his palms together over his chest. Maybe his subconscious had figured out how to access the armorlink while he’d been dreaming.

He eyed Stan carefully. “Did you see anything?”

Stan shook his head. “No, it was just feelings. But they were loud.”

Sam glanced at the hotel room door. If anyone had seen the samurai warrior climbing the side of the hotel and crawling into his room, it probably would have been reported by now.

“Is this why you’re not sleeping?” Stan asked. “Are you having dreams like this every night?”

Sam regarded him in silence.

“Blimey, mate.”

“I thought you said you didn’t see anything.” Sam snarled.

“I didn’t.” Stan stretched his legs out. “I told you. I just felt it. And I’ve never heard you over the armorlink before, so you know I had to be worried.”

“So you just threw Kagami on and dashed across Washington DC to check on me?” Sam snapped.

“I left a note for Mia. What was I supposed to do?” Stan smiled faintly. “Ignore you?”

Sam scoffed. “What would you have done?”

“Eh?”

“What would you have done if you got here and I wasn’t alone?”

Stan hesitated. “Um. Well, who would you have been with?”

“What if it had been Provost Morrow?”

“At four o’clock in the morning?” Stan yelped. “Why would he be in your room?”

“Fine. Fine. Someone else.”

“Like who?”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe.” Stan looked stricken. “How did this get so personal?”

“Stan.”

“I figured if you were going to call me, you needed help.” Stan squeaked.

“I didn’t call you.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.” Sam sat forward.

“Then Hinode did.”

“Stan.” Sam sagged with a loud moan. “For the last time, Hinode can’t do anything. Hinode is a thing. Not a person that can act independently.”

Stan set his hands on his knees. “If you say so.” His piercing blue eyes smiled. “Do you want me to leave?”

“What? And go back? Across the city in armor again?”

“I could take the Metro.”

“In your pajamas?”

Stan looked down at his plaid pants and wrinkled his nose.

“You’re not wandering around DC at this time in the morning in nothing but your underwear.” Sam pressed his fingertips into his forehead.

“I’m wearing more than that, Sam. Don’t be rude.”

“You’re the one who knocked on my window,” Sam spat. “Just stay. I’ll call the others later.”

He settled back in the chair and sighed. He’d been hoping that he could try to sleep again, but with Stan in the room, it wasn’t going to happen. And not now, especially. If Stan could sense his nightmares from miles away, what was to stop him from peeking into them via the armorlink while Sam was sleeping?

And I thought him meeting Gideon was going to be bad.

“You should get some rest.” Sam nodded at the bed.

Stan looked from one corner of the room to the other. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“Isn’t that the crux of this train wreck, Stan? I don’t sleep anymore.” Sam grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and draped himself in it. “Go to sleep.”

Slowly, Stan crawled under the covers and laid his head down.

They’d get through the night. They’d survive the morning. And then they’d go—

He paused.

Go where? San Francisco isn’t home. Sam clenched his fists under the blanket. And I’m not even sure I’m going back. If I do, it’ll just be to get my stuff so I can leave.

“Sam?”

Sam glared at the boy, staring at him from beneath the covers.

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

Sam scowled at him. Stan had an uncanny instinct about people’s feelings and intentions. Most of the time, the other members of the house didn’t even need to declare what they were thinking before Stan figured it out on his own.

Judging by the width of the boy’s blue eyes, he’d probably put the pieces together somehow.

“Mia said the man, Gideon, pretty much raised you.” Stan offered a soft smile. “I’m sure you’ve missed him. Was probably good to see him, right?”

“What are you getting at, Stan?”

Stan chewed his bottom lip before he spoke. “You know we need you, right?”

Sam narrowed his gaze at the teenager. He didn’t believe in psychics, but if he did, he’d swear Stan was one.

Stan looked away from him. “We need all five of us. We’re stronger together. That’s the only time we’ve ever been able to stop Jinsoku, working together. The team needs you there.”

“I know the team needs me,” Sam said. “But the team won’t listen to me. So what difference does it make if I’m there or not?”

Stan sat up a bit. “A huge difference.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Sam sneered. “If I weren’t there, none of you would even notice.”

“I would.”

“Face it, Stan. I’m better off on my own anyway.”

Stan’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s not true.”

Sam sighed again. “Go to sleep, Stan.”

Stan laid back down again and shut his eyes. His breathing evened out after a few moments of silence, and Sam leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. Mia would call in a few hours, panicking about where Stan had gone.

Sam shut his eyes and listened to the distant sound of thunder rumbling across the sky. Strange, because the forecast hadn’t called for rain.