“Dad,” Davis said, holding out his hands, standing in the doorway. “You have to stop.”

  His father looked like he didn’t know his own son. Peter took another step forward, eyes red with rage. It had appeared out of nowhere. One minute the two Millmans were arguing, like they did all the time lately, the noise probably disturbing the people that shared the bunkhouse with them. They had a room to themselves, one of the smaller. Big enough for two twin beds, a desk and a wardrobe.

  It was big enough. It wasn’t like they had much in the way of possessions now and Davis wouldn’t complain, even though his dad did. There were people that were four or six to a room. The shouting had gotten loud. The same argument that they seemed to have almost daily. Peter didn’t like Davis being an Adventurer. Davis wanted to help out the Clan and with his Levels and Abilities, that was the best way. Davis understood why his father was worried. It was dangerous. But Davis was an adult, at least according to the rules of the Connection. He wanted to help, why couldn’t his father understand?

  And he wanted his father to help, not mope around the Clanhold all day during odd jobs as a laborer and complaining about it nonstop. There was a whole group of them that did that, just got together and complained. They’d hang out in the cafeteria, muttering quietly to each other, glaring at the people they thought had it better.

  Not that anyone in the Clan had it better.

  But Peter wouldn’t listen.

  That day had been even worse when Davis had mentioned how Mike Turner had tried to kill him. He’d known it had been a mistake the second he said it. His father had gotten angrier than Davis had ever seen him, yelling and cursing and not letting Davis get a word in.

  Then in the middle of the rant, his father just stood up, throwing the book he’d been holding across the small room. He’d glared at Davis, taking a threatening step.

  Standing up, Davis had gone to the door to get some space between them, which was when he’d heard the sounds of fighting coming from outside.

  “Dad,” he said again. “Please sit down. I don’t know what’s going on but I need to go help.”

  “And risk your life again?” Peter said angrily. “That bastard Loch doesn’t care if you die, he’s just using you.”

  “Dad, that’s not true and you know it.”

  “You just want to impress her, don’t you?” Peter said, pointing a finger at Davis. “Just admit it.”

  “Dad…,” Davis said, feeling himself get angry.

  “The Voice is right,” Peter growled, lunging for his son.

  Davis punched out. It was instinctive, experience and training kicking in. He was just glad he hadn’t Activated an Ability. The punch struck his father in the head, knocking the older Millman down, where he didn’t get up.

  “DAD!,” Davis shouted, crouching down next to his father.

  Peter was still breathing, just unconscious. Easily lifting his father with his Adapted Strength, Davis set Peter carefully on the bed, adjusting his body so he was laying comfortably.

  “I’ll be back Dad,” he said, heading for the door. “I’ll get a healer, you’ll be okay, but I need to see what’s going on outside.”

  Davis opened the door, wondering what was happening. First Mike Turner had gone nuts this morning and how his father, and from the sounds of it the entire Clanhold was going crazy.

  He ran through the bunkhouse, throwing open the door and looked out on a scene of chaos. The whole Clanhold was going crazy. It was easy to see who the ones going crazy and who were trying to hold them back.

  Some people tried to fight back the aggressors, trying not to hurt anyone. Others couldn’t even defend themselves as friends jumped on them, punching and kicking. The aggressors were like his father and Mike, red-eyed and crazy. Feral.

  A woman charged for Davis and he kicked out, catching her in the chin. Her head snapped back as she fell, landing hard. She didn’t move but he could see that she was breathing.

  “Sorry,” Davis said, jumping off the stairs and running toward where he saw two people attacking one of the guards.

  He could hear the same word being repeated. Sometimes in sentences, sometimes just two words. The Voice. The Voice is coming.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  What the hell was the Voice, Davis thought as he grabbed at one of the attackers, thinking he recognized the person, but pushing that thought away. He had to help the Clan, even if it was the Clan attacking.

  That was what his father couldn’t, or wouldn’t, understand. Davis wasn’t doing it for anyone except himself. He was doing what his father had always taught him. If you have the power, you need to help those that don’t have it.

  Davis had the power and he was going to help.

  ***

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Drew barked at the guard he held by the collar.

  The man glared at him, red-eyed and feral looking. Drew had caught him beating on another guard, thankfully with just his fists and not a weapon or Abilities. He’d grabbed the attacking guard, throwing him to the side, checking on the other, who was struggling to get up.

  He’d heard the man charging, turning and kicking out, catching the attacker in the stomach. The man had fallen, giving Drew the time to pick him up and shake him.

  “Answer me!”

  “Screw you,” the guard growled out in a harsh voice, filled with hate. “You’re one of the special ones. Not a lowly guard. You get the special treatment. Just like him,” the guard said, glaring at the one he’d been beating up.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Drew asked.

  He could hear more fighting around him. It had erupted out of nowhere. The late afternoon had been quiet, a nice day, and then everything had fallen apart. People just lunged at others, attacking without warning. The Clan fought back, but it was hard to when couldn’t use Abilities for fear of hurting the others.

  If Drew knew why they had attacked, maybe he could deal with it better. But there was no reason. It had just happened.

  “What’s going on?” Jake Warrick asked, running over with his girlfriend Taylor.

  “I don’t know,” Drew said, throwing the guard to the ground.

  He gave the guard a swift kick, knocking the guard out, hoping he hadn’t done more damage.

  “Why are those people going nuts?” Taylor asked.

  Drew knew it was rhetorical. Just someone trying to make sense of the chaos.

  “What do we do?” Jake asked.

  “Stop them,” Drew said. “Without hurting them.”

  Jake just looked at Drew, who shrugged.

  “Got any other ideas?”

  Jake shook his head, motioning for Taylor to follow him. They ran off to a nearby group of attackers, grabbing the people and restraining them, letting the others grab rope, belts and anything else they could find.

  Drew pulled a man off a woman, throwing him into the snow. He saw the drops of red spreading out, staining the white. There was nothing he could do about it now.

  “Drew,” Elora said, running to his side. She had a half dozen elves with her.

  Looking around, Drew realized that none of the aggressive Clanmembers were elves. He didn’t know what that meant.

  “Where is Lord Lochlan?” Elora asked.

  “No clue,” Drew replied. “I’ve been a little busy here.”

  The elves spread out, helping the defenders, subduing the attackers.

  Drew felt a pressure in his head, making him wince.

  “Drew?” Elora asked. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know….”

  The pressure increased. He could hear the people around him calling out, something about a Voice. It was hard to hear, the pressure was pounding at his head. It was making him angry, making him want to lash out. There was something coming, some Presence. He could feel it, just outside the gates. Dark, foreboding, heavy.

  It pushed against him, seeping its way into his mind.

  Drew growled. He hated not being in control. It had taken a lot for him to take pain pills, because he’d never liked the loopy feeling. He’d rarely gotten drunk, not liking the loss of control. Even driving, he hated being a passenger, not being in control of the vehicle.

  It wasn’t about controlling everything, not for him. He didn’t do it to lord it over anything and anyone. It was just about being in control so that others didn’t surprise him, or their actions didn’t harm him. It was about helping to keep others safe.

  The feeling threatening to overwhelm him wanted to take his control away and Drew was not going to let it.

  “Get out of my head,” he growled, clutching at his head, the sounds of fighting increasing around him.

  Not just the aggressors, but the defenders. They were being more aggressive, not holding themselves back. Even the elves started to be affected.

  “Get out!,” Drew yelled.