Master and Apprentice by Sonya Bateman

missed. It landed on the seat, and the rattling of the truck slid it away toward the edge. I made a grab for it, but the tips of my fingers pushed it onto the hump between the footwells. Grumbling, I leaned over and snagged the damned thing before it could hit the floor and smash on the road.
    When I straightened again, something big and fur covered filled the darkened view from the windshield. And it was getting bigger fast.
    “Shit!” I slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel hard to the left, hoping to at least avoid flipping over the guardrail. The truck emitted an ungodly squeal. For an instant it rode on two tires before it dropped down and shot back into the turn, only to twist all the way back around. I hit the thing head-on at a good clip. My body bucked forward, and my skull met the steering wheel with a solid crack. Blackness followed instantly.
    A groan penetrated the shell of my consciousness. I didn’t associate it with me until a moment later when the pain hit. Wasn’t sure I could move, but I cracked an eye open and realized I hadn’t been out long. The living roadblock still stood outside, just beyond the crumpled and steaming hood, looking annoyed.
    Apparently, we’d hit a hundred-point buck. On steroids. “Ian.” My tongue slurred the word, and it came out eeng. “That a moose?”
    He didn’t reply.
    “Damn …” I gritted my teeth and pushed up slowly. Nausea rippled through me with the motion, and flashing lights danced in my vision. I tried to blink them away. When I shifted straighter, glass crunched beneath my feet. That wasn’t a good sound. I made myself turn enough to get a look at Ian, for the first time actually hoping that he was just ignoring me.
    He wasn’t. The windshield had burst inward, and it looked like they didn’t make safety glass back in 1900 or whenever this truck had rolled off the line, because a huge shard of it was embedded under Ian’s sternum. Blood splashed his chest,painted the underside of his chin, welled along the sides of the glass, and oozed down his stomach. His head rested back at an extreme angle, and his half-open eyes rolled in their sockets.
    Jesus. I knew he couldn’t die, but how much abuse could his body take? It didn’t look like he was even breathing. “Ian?” I half-whispered, and laid a hand on his arm. No glow. He’d told me once before that he couldn’t amplify what wasn’t there in the first place. He was still drained.
    A tremendous snort drew my attention. Outside, the moose shook his massive head, lowered it, and rammed his antlers into the front grille. The truck rocked back an inch or so on creaking springs.
    The motion must’ve shocked Ian back from wherever he’d retreated. He jerked stiff, his eyes snapped open. And he screamed.
    His hoarse cry seemed to make the moose reconsider battling the truck. The animal turned and lumbered off into the trees. Ian drew a gurgling breath, and closed his eyes. “Hurts,” he whispered. His lips barely moved. “Help … get it out.” The arm closest to me rose a few inches, wavered toward the glass shard. Dipped and fell.
    “Okay. Don’t move, man. Let me …” I swallowed hard. It had to be in there pretty deep, or it would’ve fallen out already. I leaned over and tried to get a grip on a lower edge without slicing my fingers off. The first tug did nothing but elicit an anguished grunt from Ian and break my tentative hold. Damn. I set my jaw, grabbed the only protruding portion, and wrenched. The jagged edge sliced my palm, but the shard withdrew from Ian’s flesh with an awful wet sound.
    Gasping, I pushed the bloodied fragment away and squeezed my hand closed. “I’ll try to heal you some,” I said through teeth chattering like a San Francisco fault line.
    “Nuh … no, ” Ian squeezed out. “Save it. Home. Akila.”
    “Christ, Ian.” My stomach torqued more than it should’ve been able to, and I wondered if it had turned completely inside out. I knew what he