The woman next door had sworn she'd heard a child crying inside the house, but had seen no one go in or come out in over six months, so she did what any sensible person would do—she told her daughter over a lunch date that the abandoned bungalow must be haunted, and planned to call somebody to see about mending the fence between the two properties sooner rather than later. The daughter fortunately happened to be a PD officer and immediately relayed her mother's observation to the people handling Sky's case.

So here Nate and Jay were, standing in front of the bungalow feeling hopeful but dreading at the same time what they'd find inside. The front yard was scrubby and rough, riddled with crab grass and dandelion stalks that showed the months of neglect more acutely than the house did. According to city records, the property was in foreclosure, so they hadn't bothered with a warrant. They prowled around the front windows before knocking on the door. There was no doorbell.

"SPD!"

There was no answer, not that they had really expected one. Jay squinted through the window, but everything inside remained dark and still. He knocked again, louder this time, and the ensuing silence was somehow more disappointing than before.

"Should we go in?" Nate asked.

Jay nodded. If there was any possibility a child was inside, abandoned, trapped, or otherwise endangered, they couldn't just walk away. Nate rattled the door handle a few times, and Jay thought he was going to try to wrench it. Instead, he took out a thin, flat card from his pocket and managed to jimmy the lock open just like in the movies, but the funny thing was, Nate looked as surprised as Jay felt. When Jay shot him an incredulous look, Nate just shrugged and put the card away.

Don't ask, his expression said.

The door creaked as he pushed it open and cautiously stepped inside. The interior was dim, dusty, and claustrophobic thanks to low ceilings and oblique sunlight. An uncomfortably narrow doorway tucked right against the back right corner led into what looked like the kitchen. Somewhere in the house was the hum of something electronically powered. Jay exchanged a quick look with Nate and was about to announce their presence again when they heard muffled footsteps upstairs followed by a scraping against the floor. Jay's pulse immediately quickened.

"Sky!" he shouted.

The reply was immediate. "Daddy!"

That little voice that had been missing for too long sent relief and fear surging through Jay's veins, and he sprinted up the stairs like gravity didn't exist.

"Sky!"

Sky called out for him again and it was the only thing he was aware of as he hit the top of the staircase and kept running. He didn't notice the electronic hum from earlier growing louder nor the device affixed over the bedroom door—obvious in hindsight—until it was too late. He slammed full speed into the invisible barrier and went sprawling backwards hard, his vision flaring all white, then all black before slowly filling back in. His forehead throbbed painfully.

Nate was leaning over him, weapon ready in one hand while his other reached down to touch Jay's shoulder. "You okay?" he demanded.

"Yeah," Jay managed to gasp out with what little air hadn't been knocked out of him. He urgently motioned for Nate to keep moving without him. The other Ranger did as he was told, and by the time Jay got back on his feet, Nate had disabled the forcefield device and entered the room.

It was empty. Nate's weapon hung limply at his side.

"I'm sorry, Jay," he mumbled as Jay came to stand beside him. Together they stared at the old, sagging bed and the pile of twisted blankets on it that had clearly been tossed aside in a hurry. Empty baby food jars and a familiar picture book littered the floor, but the most disturbing sight of all was the small thin belt cast aside atop the bedclothes—Sky's protective shielding device. Kat had designed it for him when he was one and a half, after an accidental forcefield unleashed in his sleep had blown his crib apart.

Jay felt sluggish and disconnected, like he was fighting to move through a dream, as he stepped forward to pick it up. Sky's cries for him still rang in his ears.

They had been so close.

The child's fury began even before they escaped into the dusty window pane. To avoid anyone overhearing, Mirloc transported them to the woods beyond the city where they emerged from a bubbling brook beneath soaring trees in full summer flower. There had been no time to use his mirror dimension as an intermediary. As the boy's father raced up the stairs, Mirloc had simply snatched the boy up in his arms and taken them together that way through the glass.

They reached the woods not a moment too soon. The instant they appeared, a wave of blue energy repelled him and he half-dropped the child onto the mossy ground. He staggered back as the boy howled, wave after wave of blue light pulsing outward from his small body. These were stronger than the little phantom the boy had created the night before. These scraped back the moss at his feet clean and sent stones hurtling into tree trunks and the brook. Dust and detritus kicked up in an ever-widening ring around him with each successive wave. It was like watching a tiny cyclone rage right there on the forest floor.

Mirloc's acquaintance had not named a price or a purpose for this job, but Mirloc was beginning to think no price would have been adequate. Against his better judgment, he began wondering what this boy would be like in his prime, as a strong young man with an extraordinary power at his disposal. What mores would he follow? Who might attempt to tame him? If they failed, how far would that storm devastate?

It had been far too easy to rob his cradle, which meant his father, Ranger though he might be, was either useless or a fool. But here the child was, crying out for that father all the same.

Your daddy doesn't love you enough, Mirloc was tempted to say. Not only does he bind you, he can't even protect you properly.

The boy fell onto his rear in the dirt and continued to scream inconsolably, fists clenched until they were bloodless and his entire body shaking with the effort. His face was reddened as if his anguish burned him from the inside and he might burst at any moment.

The wretchedness was unbearable and Mirloc had half a mind to just walk away, but then he wondered for the first time whether the boy could actually hurt himself carrying on this way. Such tempestuous emotion and power, one with or without the other, rarely came without a price.

Mirloc carefully inched closer, mindful of the rocks and debris still flying about. He stopped when a twig scraped his shin and he stood there frowning deeply, uncertain of his next move. The glisten of tears on the boy's face gave him an idea and he turned to the brook instead. He scooped a handful of water in both hands and brought it over.

When the boy paused for breath, Mirloc quickly interjected, "I will let you see your daddy if you are quiet and look here. You must be careful not to spill it."

Once more, he found himself facing those round, dewy eyes, bluer than the sky above their heads. Had the boy been named for them? Did he choose the hue of his power?

Thankfully the glow around his arms faded sooner than his sniffles. When the ground finally stopped skittering, Mirloc knelt down and lowered his hands so that the boy could see his makeshift mirror. Set against his dark purple skin, it was not a bad one.

The water flared bright gold, and when the surface had sufficiently stilled, an image of the boy's father and his fellow Ranger appeared. The two were still searching the house and the image dimmed each time they moved out of sight of an adequate reflective surface.

"Daddy!" the boy cried.

"He cannot hear you this way," Mirloc said.

"I want my daddy," the boy said again, but this time it was a whimper rather than a scream.

"Tonight," Mirloc said. "I have a friend who wants to see your special power. After you meet him, I can bring you home to your daddy. But you must promise to be good and do what I tell you."

The boy didn't answer. Instead, he just mopped at his eyes and hiccupped, and Mirloc wondered if even he could tell by now an empty promise when he heard one. He was no longer interested in seeing his father, or in brewing another storm, or in anything at all. He simply sat there mewling in the dirt, tears still leaking, looking small and alone and miserable.

Mirloc released the water in his hands and wondered how he was to pass the day with such a sight picking at the pity in his heart. He could hide the boy in another safe house, but now that he was quiet, the atmosphere of the woods was something close to pleasant.

Remembering how fascinated the boy had been by stories of a desert world, the mercenary mused carefully, "My home had no forests like this."

For a moment, it seemed like the child would continue to ignore him. In the end, his curiosity allowed no such thing and he reluctantly asked, "No trees?" His failed pronunciation of the letter 'r' yet again made the question sound all the more innocent.

"Only small ones, more stick than tree."

The boy glanced at Mirloc's hands. "I can see?"

It was an astonishingly astute response. Did this youngling actually comprehend what Mirloc's power was, or was it merely a conjuring to him—magic as he had called it—of images as artificial as those in a picture book?

The realization that he truly no longer intended for his promise of reunion to be an empty one struck the mercenary hard. A child such as this had a greater destiny than to be subjugated by others. Perhaps it was not mere chance that had led Mirloc to intercede at the right time to prevent that very thing. If there was a thing he despised more than weakness, it was wasted potential.

The boy was still looking at his hands as if an image would appear on its own. Mirloc held them out and said, "Yes, you can see. Would you like to go there?"

The boy's eyes widened, and when he suddenly scrambled to his feet, Mirloc took that to mean assent. The child did not protest this time when he was picked up, and his sense of adventure secretly pleased the mercenary.

Mirloc stepped up to the edge of the brook, and for the first time in his long life, he did not traverse the universe alone.