Rain’s uncle folded his paper, then stood from his chair, putting it back under the table. He made his exit by the side door, entering into the fenced-in yard, the door left open behind him.

“What are you waiting for?” Rain’s aunt asked. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

Rain hurried, going back to the bottom stairs where he’d left his bag. He opened the bag as he reversed direction, heading to the kitchen, fishing in the bag for the things he needed.

He had one mechanical arm out as he passed his aunt and cousin. His aunt was unreadable. Not as dark as his uncle was—his aunt gave the impression the light had been almost entirely extinguished, but the woman could smile, for the rarest of occasions. She had things she cared about and prioritized. Dim or reduced to dark embers, but not gone.

He pressed the arm to his shoulder blade, and felt the connection flare, burning through his nerves to his brain. A small, tiny window opened in his consciousness, with his awareness of the arm and its position. He was aware of the air against the current that ran along the outside ‘skin’ of the arm and hand.

He used the extra arm to help hold the bag while he got the other arm out, slapping it back against the blade of his other shoulder.

His uncle waited by the wooden fence, the perimeter made up of only three broad wooden slats punctuated by the stout posts.

Standing there, illuminated only by the porchlight, his uncle gave no impression there had ever been a light there at all.

Rain had two more arms to connect, but they were smaller, attached at the elbow, only reaching as far as his wrist. They were older and he’d tuned them back up to working order with the intention of leaving one for Kenzie to study. He’d forgotten, in his haste to leave.

He approached his uncle. When he got within three or so paces, his uncle took a step toward him. No prelude, no intent apparent in his action. With a second long stride, the man reached out to shove Rain’s shoulder hard, pushing him toward the fence.

Rain cast out the emotion power around them, and felt the feedback buzz, the faint response that let him know the power was working.

That done, he reached up. His normal hand grabbed his uncle’s wrist. A mechanical hand grabbed his uncle’s elbow, fingers digging in there, in an attempt to force it to bend. The smallest hand grabbed for two fingers, pulling them backward.

His uncle pulled his hand up and away, and then kicked Rain in the thigh.