Читать книгу Runebinder - Alex R. Kahler - Страница 10

CHAPTER FOUR

FOR THE BRIEFEST moment, Tenn thought it was the enemy attacking.

There was no one else out there—at least, no one from his troop—that could use that much power. A power that was racing toward the outpost, strobing against the sky like lightning.

Tomás had barely been gone a minute and Katherine was dead and what the hell was going on that everything was falling to shit so quickly?

He jumped up and ran to the edge of the hotel, ready to send out a signal, ready to scream that they were under attack, when he realized the power was coming from the west. From Outer Chicago. And there was no way the enemy could be coming from there. Not when Outer Chicago was ringed with outposts like his to keep it safe.

Light flared as the door burst open, and Derrick ran up beside Tenn, followed by two younger recruits. Fire flickered to life all around the edge of the roof, casting garish shadows and splays of light over the crew. Whether the fire was for defense or a beacon or just from Derrick’s anger, Tenn wasn’t sure.

Derrick didn’t even look at Katherine’s body. He was too trained on the sky. The others, though, they lingered. Kneeled at her side. Tenn looked away.

They would say he did that, too. They would say he killed her to hide the evidence of his treason in the field.

“Commander...” Tenn began, not knowing what to say, but Derrick cut him short.

“They’re here,” Derrick muttered.

“The army, sir?” one of the recruits asked.

Derrick glared back at him.

“No, idiot. The fucking cavalry.”

That’s when Derrick noticed Katherine.

He turned back to Tenn. Tenn had seen his commander angry before, but never like this. Derrick’s jaw was tight, and full flames swirled around his hands and from the burning Sphere of Fire in his chest.

“What the hell have you done?” he seethed.

Tenn didn’t get the chance to answer.

Lightning flashed above them as a gust of wind buffeted the roof, sending Tenn to his knees.

He blinked away the afterglow, his ears ringing with thunder.

There were three of them—two guys and a girl—all in pale clothes and white trench coats, all emanating more power than Tenn had felt in his lifetime...save for what he’d wielded that afternoon.

The blond-haired guy stepped forward. A broadsword was strapped to his back, and his pale, angular face bore a dozen half-healed scars. Something about that face made Tenn’s heart flip, almost with recognition, but he was positive he’d never seen him before in his life. The man didn’t speak at first, his arms in front of his chest. He looked like he was assessing their value.

He looked like he didn’t enjoy what he saw.

“Outpost 37,” he said. “I’m Jarrett, captain commander of Outer Chicago. I’ve been sent here to handle the rest of this mission.” His eyes looked over all of them again. Maybe it was Tenn’s imagination, but they seemed to linger on him.

“And one of you has fucked up.”

* * *

“This is madness,” Derrick said, chasing behind Jarrett. Tenn and the others followed them down the steps. The other newcomers were silent, ghosting behind them all. Easy to forget, if not for the shivers they sent down Tenn’s spine every time their cold eyes raked over him.

“What do you expect when your orders are disobeyed so flagrantly?” Jarrett replied. He was taking the steps two at a time, his pale undercut glowing red in the light of Derrick’s angry fires.

Even with fear lodged in his gut—surely this would get him discharged or killed or worse—Tenn was mildly impressed that Jarrett knew the word flagrantly.

“This is my outpost and my troop. You can’t just waltz in here and—”

Jarrett stopped and spun, and before Derrick could blink, Jarrett had him pinned against the wall, one hand to Derrick’s chest and the other holding a dagger to Derrick’s neck.

“This outpost is owned and run by Outer Chicago,” Jarrett said. There wasn’t the slightest hint of emotion in his voice, which almost seemed worse than Derrick’s anger. “And that means we own and run you. You screwed up, commander. That is why we are here. So I suggest you take your cocky attitude and shove it somewhere dark and quiet, because the army is nearly here. And, quite frankly, I’m more than happy to throw you out there as bloodbait. I can promise you that Cassandra won’t give a damn if you’re gone.” He resheathed the dagger and patted the side of Derrick’s face, smiling. “Understood?”

He stepped back, turned and continued down the steps until they reached the bottom floor. Derrick seethed silently behind him, fires flickering in and out. Once in the lobby, Jarrett gestured to the strangers he brought with him.

“Devon, Dreya, go secure the perimeter. I want troops every hundred yards. Keep them tight and close to base. You know the drill.”

The two strangers nodded in unison. Tenn had to believe they were related, despite the contrast in their appearance. They were both tall and lithe and angular. But the girl was paler than ivory, with long willowy fingers and silvered hair that reached her waist; paired with the white coat and faded jeans and sweater she wore, she looked like a specter. Even her blue eyes were nearly gray. But the boy—her brother—was darker than night, with choppy black hair and a burgundy scarf wrapped around his face, leaving only his blue eyes bare. So blue...it must have been their use of Air. Tenn tried not to stare. He’d seen plenty of people subtly changed from the element they used, himself included, but he’d never seen transformations so distinct. Neither seemed to carry weapons, which meant their magic was impossibly powerful.

The pair strode toward the hotel exit. Then Air opened in their throats, and they flew off into the night.

“You don’t need to change our formation,” Derrick said when they were out of sight. “I already have scouts in position.”

“We don’t need scouts,” Jarrett said. “We know the army is coming. And they know where we are. We need our ranks close. Otherwise, our fighters will be swallowed up one by one.”

Derrick said nothing.

“And you,” Jarrett said, turning his attention to Tenn. “What are you?”

It wasn’t so strange a question. Not anymore.

“Earth and Water. Sir.”

“That one’s a fuckup,” Derrick interjected. “Nearly cost us the whole mission this afternoon, which is probably why you’re here. Went against orders.”

Jarrett eyed Tenn up and down, a hint of...something...in his pale eyes. “He doesn’t seem the insubordinate type. What happened?”

“He—”

“I was asking him,” Jarrett said quietly. Why was his voice so familiar? “What happened today, soldier?”

“I used magic. Against orders.”

Jarrett’s eyebrows furrowed.

“And why did you do that?”

“I didn’t,” Tenn said. “It...it used me.”

“He’s clearly crazy,” Derrick said, “or just trying to save his own a—”

The Sphere of Air opened in Jarrett’s throat, harsh and pale blue, and a second later Derrick slammed against the wall. Jarrett didn’t even gesture or take his eyes off Tenn.

“What’s your name?” Jarrett asked.

“Tenn.”

Jarrett’s eyes narrowed.

“And you say your Sphere...what? Acted against your will? Used itself?”

A lump lodged in Tenn’s throat, but he forced himself to speak.

“We were surrounded. Only two of us left. I was prepared to die. I swear. But Water just...took over. Before I could stop it...” Tenn took a deep breath. Saying it again felt like insanity. “It killed every single Howl surrounding us. In a heartbeat. Before I could try to stop it.”

Jarrett didn’t say anything. Not for a long time. And whether Derrick was silent out of newfound respect or some sort of invisible gag, Tenn couldn’t say. Tenn didn’t care. He couldn’t take his gaze off Jarrett. Not because he was scared—though he was, definitely—but because there was something about the way Jarrett looked at him that sent electricity through his veins. Like Jarrett knew his secrets.

It should have made him feel like he was being appraised. Instead, he felt, in that moment, like the center of Jarrett’s universe.

He couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it.

“Is this the first time it’s happened, Tenn?” Jarrett asked. Just hearing Jarrett say his name sent another course of energy through his veins. It was nothing like what he’d felt around Tomás, but the intensity was just as sharp.

“Yes. Sir.”

“Call me Jarrett,” he replied. He lowered his voice. “When this is over...we’ll talk again. At length.” He looked Tenn up and down. “I want you to stay out of the fight. The reports say you don’t have many healers out here, so we’ll need all the Earth mages we can get. And if your Spheres are acting up, I think it’s best you stay out of battle.”

Jarrett patted him on the shoulder and left. Derrick slumped down from the wall, rubbing his throat. He didn’t approach Tenn, but the glare he shot over was enough.

“You killed her, didn’t you?” he rasped. “You killed her, and now you’ve damned all of us.”

He spat on the ground.

“You’re no better than a fucking Howl.”

He walked out, and all light went with him.

There, in the darkness, Tenn began to wonder if it would have been better if he’d died.

* * *

It was sometime past midnight. The troop was assembled and the orders had been given. Tenn was back on the roof of the hotel, most of the troop stationed to the city or field beyond. Katherine’s body had been...removed. He didn’t ask where, or by whom. No one told him. No one told him anything.

Especially not the two Hunters he’d been stationed with.

Devon and Dreya stood farther back. They’d been there when he arrived, and when he tried to introduce himself, they stared at him like he was speaking a different language. He shrunk under Dreya’s hawk-like glare and didn’t try speaking to them again.

The rain pounded down harder now, but he barely felt it. It was a perk of being attuned to Water, though it didn’t necessarily make up for the emotional backlash. You took what you could get. Like Tenn, the cold and the rain didn’t seem to bother the newcomers. He looked back to them. They stood on opposite sides of the roof, both open to Air as they scanned the sky.

Neither of the twins spoke as they stood there, waiting. Minutes churned to hours. The night deepened. His nerves sharpened to daggers with every drop of rain. He wasn’t just waiting. He was waiting to die.

No. He was waiting for something else to go horribly wrong.

He stiffened when Dreya walked up next to him. She stood by his shoulder, staring out at the abandoned town. She was almost a head shorter than him, though she seemed much taller.

“You say that Water used you,” she said. Her voice was soft, barely carrying over the rain, but it was perfectly enunciated.

He nodded.

“That should not be possible,” she continued.

“I know.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, so he took that as his opportunity.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you need us.”

It was not the response he expected. She had to be lying—they were clearly here because of him, to take him away. They were just guarding him to ensure he didn’t escape.

“Then why just the three of you? If you’re here to stop the army, why didn’t they send more?”

She laughed. It was high, and childish, and completely belied her serious demeanor.

“We are more than enough, Tenn,” she said. “Besides, the Prophets did not send us here to save your army. They sent us to save you.”

He couldn’t speak. The fear in his chest prevented it. The Prophets were a group of mages dedicated to understanding the fifth and elusive Sphere of Maya—the one Sphere you couldn’t attune to by choice. It had to choose you. No one had seen the Prophets, no one knew how to contact them, but many battles were won or prevented by their guidance. Tenn didn’t know how anyone learned what the Prophets decreed. He’d never wanted to ask.

The future wasn’t something he wanted to know too much about.

“You are being noticed,” Dreya whispered. She reached out and touched his neck. Right where Tomás had gripped his throat before. “That is a very dangerous thing.”

Fire blossomed on the horizon, a red stain on night’s canvas. He didn’t have a chance to speak.

“That is the first line,” Dreya said. In this new light, her damp hair glinted rose. “The army is near.”

Tenn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d spent the last week waiting for the executioner’s ax to fall, and here it was, at last.

Dreya walked back to her brother, who stood with his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed. The red on the horizon seeped closer, the whole town illuminated in its ghostly light. Tenn could sense the magic even from here. Somewhere out there, the necromancers were pulling out their big guns and spurring their undead army with fire and fear. Tenn counted the seconds in his head, like counting the space between lightning and thunder. He counted the seconds until death arrived.

Deep in the pit of his stomach, the Sphere of Water simmered. It knew battle was coming, and it was excited.

Flames leaped higher, burning through the fields and stretching to the clouds above. The wall of flame burned white-hot, speeding toward the city in a ravenous wave. Years ago, magic had turned the tides of war. It was no longer the most powerful who walked away from battle, but the quickest. He prayed his comrades in the field had shielded themselves. He prayed that he would get out of here alive, that Water wouldn’t destroy him.

The fire splashed closer, only a mile away. Its roar chilled his bones, and its heat threatened to melt him.

And then, behind him, the twins began to sing.

The sound sent chills up his spine, and he turned and glanced at them, the fire momentarily forgotten. The twins stood there, heads tilted back and hands outstretched. Three Spheres blazed in them like ghostly lights—the slow blue of Water in their stomachs, the fierce red of Fire in their chests and the swirling vortex of pale blue and yellow Air in their throats. Everyone had all five Spheres, but you had to be attuned to them individually to use them, and each consecutive attuning was more difficult. Most mages could only handle one Sphere. Two at most. To split your concentration to three Spheres was nearly impossible. To be so powerfully trained in them...it made what Tenn’s Sphere did that afternoon feel small in comparison.

It also explained their appearance. Overuse of Air would account for Dreya’s paleness. But Devon...he must have primarily been a Fire mage.

Air flared in the twins’ throats and lightning crackled across the sky, a pulse of blue light that shattered in a dome above them, spiderwebbing down to the earth. Tenn looked to the field just in time to see the necromancer’s fire billow closer, only seconds away. He winced.

Fire hit the invisible shield, burned across it with all the power of hell before flaring out into nothing. He blinked hard, tried to get the sear of fire from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw the army.

They swarmed across the land, a black tide that screamed and howled like demons. More fires roared around them, but none broke past the twins’ shield. Yet.

Jarrett had commanded him to stay back; he hadn’t commanded him to stay out of the fight.

Since he couldn’t trust Water, Tenn opened to Earth.

Power surged in his pelvis, pulling down through the concrete of the high rise, rooting him to the soil. He could sense the flesh of every creature for a mile, could taste their decaying feet on the earth as they ran. The Howls were hungry. Their empty, ulcerated stomachs burned with his; their need for flesh brought bile to his throat. It sickened him, but the power of Earth kept him rooted.

It would always keep him rooted.

Then, against his bidding, Water flared to life, and his head swam as the traitorous Sphere pulled him under.

“We’re so proud of you,” Mom says, hugging him one last time. They stand outside the dormitory, Dad idling the car in the street. Dad never likes goodbyes; one quick hug had been enough for him. “You’re going to be great.”

Tenn takes a deep breath. Tears burn behind his eyes, and he wants so badly to tell her to take him back home, to lie and say he doesn’t want to learn about the Spheres and magic, even though a week ago it was all he could think about. The buildings are too big, the other kids too loud. Home is too far away, and no magic, no power, could be worth this much hurt.

“I love you,” she says. One more hug. He inhales the scent of her, the perfume that lingers against his clothes. She is shaking. She’s trying not to cry. That makes it harder to keep his own emotions in check. It’s always been hard to keep his emotions in check. “I’ll see you soon. Over winter break.”

He tries to stem his tears while she turns and walks back to the car. The dorm-mother shuffles up behind him and puts her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, son,” she says. “You’ll see her again before you know it.”

He knows it’s a lie.

He knows it’s a lie.

And there’s nothing he can say to bring her back.

“Shut up!” he screamed.

His words ripped through the memory and slammed him—throbbing and raw—back to the battle, back to the roof of the hotel and the screams of the monsters now crashing against the shield. He knelt on the ground, hands pressed to his head. The memory pulsed in his ears like a migraine and tears ran down his face like the rain. What the hell was happening? The visions were becoming stronger. Water was gaining control. Sobs welled up in the back of his throat, but a scream from outside the barrier cut them short.

He pushed down the sadness, buried it deep under Earth, forced Water away with a wrench of willpower.

He was in charge. Not the Spheres.

He grabbed his staff from where it had clattered to the ground and pushed himself to standing. Then he reached his senses deep into Earth and pushed the power out.

The ground rippled. Just outside the shield and beyond his comrades, a wave of soil burst up and spilled out, sending Howls and their human slave drivers stumbling. It was a small act of magic, but Earth sapped him fast. Too fast. He leaned heavily against his staff as hunger gnawed at his stomach and his knees shook. If he used much more, he’d drain himself completely.

Lightning flashed down outside the shield like the spears of angry gods, piercing Howls and necromancers and filling his ears with thunder. More fires raged, these spurred by the powers of his friends, flames hungry for undead flesh. The sky swirled faster as great funnel clouds sank from the heavens and roared across the plains. He could feel the power of his comrades, could feel the magic racing through the air as they struggled to hold their ground. It was enough magic to level cities.

The army still came.

He wondered if their power was enough.

Electric-blue cracks spiked along the shield where Howls threw themselves upon it. He gripped his staff tighter. He wanted to be out there. Water wanted to fight. Even now, tired from Earth, he wanted to be close to the blood. More cracks lanced over the shield. He gritted his teeth. If they could just kill off enough before...

Devon gasped.

The shield above them shattered with the sound of breaking glass, blue sparks raining down like snowflakes. Screams pierced the night as the shield collapsed and the hordes of Howls broke through.

“What happened?” Tenn yelled. He ran over to Dreya’s side, to where she cradled her unconscious brother. The town around him erupted in flames, the earth shaking with magical tremors. This magic, he knew, wasn’t fighting for his side.

Dreya’s eyes were wide.

“Someone drained him,” she whispered. “He’s been tapped.”

Tenn’s thoughts spun with the impossibility. Someone tried to drain his Spheres. Someone tried to turn him into a Howl. That shouldn’t be possible, not from so far away.

Dreya glanced up. Her eyes covered over in shadow. She didn’t flinch when someone screamed below them. The Howls weren’t just coming...they were here.

Power surged and the hotel shuddered.

“Shit,” Tenn hissed. He ran to the edge and glanced down. Howls filled the streets, swarmed like ants around a person he could only guess was one of his own.

The Hunter’s screams were cut short.

“We have to get out of here,” he yelled.

The hotel lurched again, magic laced through its very foundations. Necromancers were trying to raze the whole city. He glanced over to Dreya, who still knelt beside her brother with her hands on his chest.

“Dreya, we can’t stay here.” A wail came from the streets below him. If it was human or undead, he couldn’t tell. “We need an escape route.”

She looked up from her brother; he expected her to wallow, but her gaze was sharp.

“That I can give,” she said. She closed her eyes, and Air blazed in her throat.

Wind tore through the streets. It whipped up rubble and shoved cars, bashed through windows and shattered bones. Tenn shielded his eyes as it screamed past him, as the Howls below were swept up and tossed about like crumpled paper, splatting against buildings, crashing through trucks. He didn’t watch for long. He ran over to the twins and pulled Devon to standing. Dreya still channeled Air, still cleared the streets of Howls, but she helped drag Devon toward the fire escape.

It wasn’t any safer down there, but at least they wouldn’t die in a building collapse.

They rushed down the fire escape and into the back alley. The street was clear, wind screaming like a banshee. Tenn kept his eyes narrowed, tried to see through the dirt and rain and debris that swarmed around him like wasps. He needed to keep Devon out of harm’s way. If another necromancer came along and tapped him again, he’d die. Or worse, he’d become a Howl. Tenn couldn’t let that happen. He needed to get them someplace safe. But where in this hell could be considered safe?

They ran through the crumbling, burning streets. Kravens and bloodlings darted about, but the dust and debris from Dreya’s windstorm kept him and his comrades hidden. Elsewhere, he heard the screams and clashes of combat. Blood hammered in Tenn’s ears. Water wanted to fight; Water was tired of running. It felt the pain and agony ripping through the fabric of the city, and it wanted to respond. It wanted to create more hurt. He kept a tight rein on the power, forced it down, but he knew if he stayed here, he wouldn’t be able to hold it down forever.

The temptation to unleash its power sang sweet in his ears.

The streets opened up ahead of them as they neared the shore. If he could get them there, maybe they could defend themselves. At least they couldn’t be surrounded, with the lake at their back. Buildings thinned out into smaller shops, the streets widening into long boulevards of abandoned benches and torn trees. Waves crashed and seethed, but at least here, for now, there were no Howls. He helped lay Devon on the ground.

Fire roared behind them, and their hotel crashed down with a tremor that shook him to his bones.

“I have to go back,” Tenn said, looking between the two of them. His heart hammered and his breath burned.

“No,” she said. Her voice was breathy from exertion, and her pale eyes seemed unfocused. “We have our orders. We are to keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to stand by and watch my troop get killed.”

Dreya must have seen something in his expression. Her resolve cracked.

“As you wish. I will support you,” she said. Her Spheres burned brighter as a tornado funneled down in the heart of the city. It roared like a demon, hungry and feral. He knew Air, being the most ethereal of the Spheres, was easier to wield, but how was she still channeling so much power? “Just make sure you make it back alive.”

Tenn didn’t hesitate. He ran back into the flames.

* * *

If hell was a city, it would have been this one.

Tenn raced through the burning buildings, Water writhing in his gut, Earth filling his limbs with momentum. Even the bricks were on fire, everything shadow and flame. Ash fell down with the rain, coating his sodden body in gray. Everything was crumbling, burning, roaring with despair. He skidded to a halt at an alley thronged with kravens, their misshapen bodies burning and bleeding even as their hunger drove them onward. As one, their heads snapped to face him, jagged mouths open and dripping disease. It was only then that he realized they were crouched over the broken body of a Hunter. All that was left of the corpse was cloth and snapped bones.

The monsters screamed.

Water screamed back.

Tenn gave in to the siren song, and Water dragged him down with delight. Magic beat a battle drum through his veins as he let the power free.

He ran to meet the monsters head-on. He spun, slashed, danced with the pulse of Water. Battle might not have been graceful, but Water made it ecstasy. Blood sprayed through the air like oil, made his black clothes blacker. Water laughed, and he laughed, too.

Kravens fell around him like cards, crumpling headless into heaps. Talons slashed his skin, sent fire racing across his flesh, but Water delighted in the pain. He drowned in power, drenched himself in glory. Dozens fell, and dozens more came, drawn by the screams and the scent of blood. Water was a torrent of agony in his veins, and even that pain was bliss.

Something appeared over the writhing mass of bodies, a shape more humanoid than the monsters. The kravens went still, their prey momentarily forgotten. Tenn’s lungs screamed from exertion. Water wanted more—more blood, more bliss—but he didn’t attack. He stood, transfixed, surrounded by corpses, the buildings on both sides of the alley burning and crumbling, everything black and red and ashen. The silhouette stalked closer, slowly, and that’s when Tenn realized the flames bent around the figure—not away from, but toward. The remaining kravens hunched over as if kneeling, scuttling back toward the shadows and away.

What the hell?

All heat drained from the world the moment the shape resolved itself. Well, herself.

She wore a long white dress, splotches of black and crimson seeping up the hem. In her bloody hands was a glass mason jar. A flickering flame hovered within.

“Hello, Tenn,” she said. How her voice carried over the roar of destruction, he wasn’t sure. It took a moment, through the haze of Water, to realize there was no way she should know his name. “Leanna will be so delighted when I bring her your body.”

Fire opened within her, and the jar blazed red-hot.

Cold lanced through his chest, his heart screaming with ice and agony. His grip on Water and Earth shattered. He crumpled atop corpses and screamed as wave after wave of freezing pain shot through him, all aimed at his heart. All aimed at draining energy from his Sphere of Fire. His back arched. His jaw clenched in a rictus.

The agony stretched on forever. He felt everything, everything. Rage and hatred, passion and desire—they coursed through his burning, freezing heart in a deluge. He couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop the fist from tightening around his chest. Everything turned to ice. Everything threatened to burn his world away. And he knew...he knew that this was how he would die.

He would become a Howl.

An incubus.

Then, suddenly, it stopped.

Heat flooded through his body as he fell limp to the ground. His muscles relaxed, heavy and wet and shaking with newfound warmth. A hand closed on his shoulder. He flinched aside.

“Tenn,” a voice called. Masculine, familiar. His eyes cleared. Jarrett stared down at him, his face bloody and eyes tight with worry. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

“What...” Tenn croaked. His throat was raw.

“Shh,” Jarrett said. “She’s gone. Can you walk?”

Tenn’s body gave another involuntary shiver. He shifted and tried to sit up; he failed. That was answer enough.

Jarrett lifted him to his feet. Tenn ached with cold and heat, every nerve tingling like he’d plunged from ice water into a sauna and back again. The world around them burned, but he barely felt it. For the moment, Tenn could only focus on the warmth of Jarrett, the solidity of the arms wrapped tight around his body.

“Come on,” Jarrett said. “We’re regrouping.”

With Jarrett still supporting him, Tenn hobbled through the streets. His foot kicked something. He glanced down and saw it was the woman’s head.

“What was...what was she?” he asked.

“A necromancer,” Jarrett said through clenched teeth.

Tenn wanted to speak up, to tell Jarrett that this had been a setup: Leanna was actively hunting for him. My sister Leanna has an interest in you, Tomás had said. If Tenn was wise, he would give up now. Or he would beg Jarrett for help.

Then he remembered Katherine’s limp body, and Tomás’s heavy promise. Another shudder ripped through his body as chills raced down his spine. He looked up to one of the few remaining buildings and swore he saw a shadow standing there, the barest silhouette of Tomás. Watching. Always watching. Waiting for him to speak up. Waiting for another reason to kill.

Tenn kept his mouth shut.