Radiant, p.9
Radiant, page 9
“I wasn’t kidding.” My voice is deep and clear. The power feels . . . delicious. Mentalists aren’t the only ones who can take control. Why shouldn’t Augmentors be able to rise to the top too? We’re just as capable as anyone. More so. I draw my fist back, pulling power as I prepare to strike. I shriek as a shower of rocks from the cave floor flies at me, leaving tiny fissures on my skin. How dare he?
“Ava?”
I detect something in the way Blake says my name—fear. Concern. It shakes something loose in me, and I feel like I’m coming back from an unknown place. My strengthening spell cuts off.
Blake gets to his feet.
“Don’t touch me,” I say.
He doesn’t walk any closer.
“I’m sorry I did that, Ava. Really. But after . . . you . . . you didn’t look like yourself for a moment.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your face . . . You looked like you were lost.”
I am lost. What is happening to me?
“I think we need a break from each other,” I say slowly. “But I meant it when I said I’m sorry about before.”
The world blurs as I retreat from Blake. But I can’t escape from myself.
The halls are deserted. Nobody here except for me, Selene, and Andres.
Selene is speaking. “The spring formal is in two weeks. There’s nobody I would enjoy going with more than you.”
“I’m really flattered, Selene, and I do enjoy your company. But I’m already attending with someone.”
“It’s Delia, isn’t it?” Selene’s friendly tone is forced. “I’ve seen you in the halls with her. I think you’ll have a wonderful time.”
He smiles. “I must be going, but I hope you have a fine evening.”
Selene nods and busies herself with her locker. The door exiting the school clicks shut.
“Just because he doesn’t want to go with you doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time,” says a strange voice.
Somebody named Dillon and two of his cronies. All Yellows.
Selene slams her locker shut. “I have to go.”
“Don’t be like that,” one tsks.
Dillon grabs her arm. “Always so unfriendly!”
“Let go.”
“Or what?”
Selene is trying to build a strengthening spell. Before he knows what hit him, she jerks her arm away and sends him and his friends slamming into the lockers. She races down the hall, focused on the exit.
“Hey. We’re not finished with you.”
Selene stops suddenly midrun. Her feet start to move, but in the wrong direction. She is walking back to them? No . . . no.
Her mind is foggier with each step. There are smirks on the boy’s faces, and Dillon taunts, “Let’s dance.”
Her legs bend. Too fast. Too far. There is a crack, and Selene tries to scream, but Dillon won’t let her. Her arms are next. The pain is horrific. Somebody, please stop them!
I scream myself awake in a cold sweat, terrified and in tears. In spite of all the hatred I have felt for Selene over the past several months, I can’t stop this current of sadness for her now. And the rage I feel for those . . . those Yellow monsters.
The Mentalist blood running through me is repulsive. A disease. But I’ve survived this long as an Augmentor. I don’t need to hone my Mentalist abilities to be competent. Not many people know about my dual magic. I could continue living as an Augmentor, and nobody would be the wiser. The poison power within me would just be my dirty little secret. My eyes feel heavy again as I catch another whiff of orange blossom and cedarwood.
“Andres, do you have a moment?”
He clicks his locker shut and turns. “Selene, something on your mind?”
“I need you to teach me how to defend myself against Yellow magic.”
The tone of his voice turns stiff. “Why?”
Her mother’s cruel laugh and Dillon’s smirk shudder through her mind. “Someone hurt me. I don’t want it to happen again. Ever.”
“Look, Selene, if someone hurt you, I am sorry about that. Truly. But you’re trying to be a Benefactor, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Her reply is curt. “What does that have to do with—”
“Did you know that it’s been six years since a Mentalist was hired as a Benefactor?”
“I didn’t, but—”
“Did you know that every day more Mentalists are arrested by Benefactors without cause?”
“I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”
“Oh, there’s an explanation, all right. Pure, undiluted hatred. I apologize, but if you’re going to be a Benefactor, I will not help in giving them another weapon.”
“I’m not asking for a weapon. I’m asking for help combating the problem that Mentalists created for themselves.”
“I can’t help you.”
Her helplessness quickly becomes resolve. If they won’t help me, all that remains is to help myself, and to make sure nobody else gets hurt. By any means necessary. Andres will regret turning his back on me someday.
Me? Where is that coming from? My brain swims in a confused mist. I’m awake, right? Did I even fall asleep again? Am I experiencing Selene’s memories even while awake now?
The pain of Andres turning his back wrenches my gut.
I have to get out of Elm’s room. I’ve taken to practicing dream intrusion here instead of the fluorite room, but all the reminders of Yellow magic are sickening to me right now.
What time is it? Late afternoon? How long was I dreaming this time? I bump into Brie as I barrel from Elm’s room.
She looks startled, then smiles. “Looks like you can use some air. I know I could.” She peers behind her. “Jazz hasn’t noticed I’m gone yet,” she whispers loudly. “Can we please go outside for a bit?”
I know I’m supposed to scold her for repeatedly leaving the cave, but who can really blame her? I’m going stir crazy myself, and she’s much younger. Besides, I’m suffocating here.
“Just a quick outing, okay?”
Brie beams and gives me a hug. Letting her express fondness for me feels like deceit.
Once outside the cave, Brie stretches in the golden, dimming sunlight and then immediately goes poking around for rocks and sticks. She reminds me of a puppy who has been cooped up for too long. She really is just a child. None of us should have to worry about running and hiding. None of us should have to worry that the adults around us could decide at any moment to forfeit our lives.
The low caw of a raven sounds in the distance, and I quickly scan our surroundings as Brie gathers pine needles and twists them together. Normal forest sounds shouldn’t make me so jittery. I remember a time before all this, when I would have enjoyed just sitting in the woods with a book, taking it all in.
Why are we fighting this fight? We were okay with things before, weren’t we? Is it really so bad to have someone in charge? Yellow magic is dangerous, so isn’t it really better to protect people from it? Life was so much easier . . . so much less complicated.
Brie hums happily and balances along a fallen tree. In the distance, I hear the crack of twigs. Maybe just an animal, but we can’t take that risk.
Or can we?
What would happen if I just let us be caught? Would Selene give me another chance? If we fell under Jace’s mind control once more, could we all just resume our lives and be students again? Blissful ignorance. Everyone safe in a perfect snow-globe world.
My heart beats as I hear the distinct murmur of voices. Brie is oblivious to it, trusting me to assess and warn of danger. After all we have gone through, and how far we’ve come, I can’t believe I’m seriously considering this. But if I’m going to maintain our cover, we need to act now. We should go. We should—
And then the voices emerge in the dusky glow, eliminating my need to choose.
“Well, hello, Miss Ava.”
Elm and Samantha both look travel worn, but Elm looks genuinely happy to see me. A part of my heart sings at seeing him back and unharmed, but my mind feels muddled and repulsed as he approaches. He touches my face, concern and questioning in his eyes. The fog lifts, and I throw my arms around him.
“Welcome home.” I didn’t realize how badly I needed him here until now.
He leans back and studies me. “Something’s wrong.” He is not deceived for an instant. “Tell me what happened. Were there more attacks?”
“One. But that isn’t really the problem right now.”
Where should I even start? Blake being attacked? The crazy thoughts going through my head? The fact that I went against his warnings?
“You didn’t let them ruin anymore of Elm’s stuff, did you?” Samantha narrows her eyes at me, her voice high and accusing.
“Sammy, why don’t you head in?” Elm steers Samantha away from me. “I’m sure you’re ready for some rest, and I would like to speak with Miss Ava alone. Take Brie back with you, perhaps?”
A storm flashes in her eyes, but at last she nods and stalks away into the cave. “Let’s go, Brie,” she shouts.
“It’s good to see you, Elm. Thanks for the break, Ava!” Brie skips off after Samantha, and I feel like she took all the sunshine with her. Elm guides me to the log Brie balanced on moments before and sits, pulling me down beside him.
“Now, what trouble did you all get into while I was away?”
The tale spills out as I tell him about the attack on Blake. About my failed attempts to merge our magic. But not everything. I know I need to tell him about the dreams, but the words freeze in my throat every time I try to shove them forward.
Elm furrows his brow, listening. He slowly runs his thumb along one of the scratches from Blake’s shower of rocks. Then another. And another. I never did bother to heal the marks. It seemed important to keep them there as a reminder in case I felt out of control again.
“What happened?”
“Blake flung some pebbles at me. We were fighting,” I admit. I’m getting closer to the subject now, but I still can’t make myself tell him.
“He what?”
“He was defending himself,” I say quickly. “I started it.”
Elm has an odd frown on his face and doesn’t seem focused on what I just said. “Elm?”
He doesn’t respond.
I’m a little worried. “You’re not plotting against Blake, are you?”
“Well, obviously I’m considering numerous satisfying ways to torment him. Did he apologize sufficiently for harming you? I could make him very sorry.”
That cloud overtakes me, and I feel the mistrust and anger seeping in again. Sneering faces. Twisted, cracking limbs.
“Well, if you really wanted to, you could make him sorry, couldn’t you?” I retort. “Isn’t that what being a Yellow is all about?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You could make Blake—or me, for that matter—do exactly what you command. Is that what you want?”
His eyes widen in shock, an undercurrent of pain twisting his features. “Of course that isn’t what I want.” He is looking at me peculiarly. “Just because someone has the ability to do something doesn’t mean they should or would. And I thought you”—his voice drops—“you, Miss Ava, of all people, would understand that.”
He stands, and the moonlight reflects off the silver now lining his eyes. Something shatters within me, and I clutch his hand, my knees suddenly feel weak.
“Please,” I plead. “Oh, Elm, I’m sorry. Please. Please, don’t go.”
He stares down at me, his expression unreadable.
“I didn’t—I don’t mean any of that.” I cling to his hand. “I think something is really wrong with me.” My voice rises in panic.
Despite the emotional wounds I just inflicted on him, he gently pulls me up and places his hands firmly on either side of my face. I fight against the intrusive repulsion that tries to mask the warmth his touch brings.
“Tell me.”
Tears come to my eyes. “I ignored what you told me about going into dreams.”
His body goes rigid.
“I went into Selene’s dreams . . . and . . . and now I think something is wrong.”
Elm closes his eyes and takes a breath. When he opens them, they are grave. “Miss Ava. What did you do?”
I tell him everything. About Selene attacking me the first time I entered her dreamscape. About the memories. The violent thoughts. He listens in a deadly stillness. The silence is heavy and amplifies the cool touch of the air on my skin. The glitter of stars in the sky above the flickering dome. He’s far too calm. When I can stand it no more, I finally blurt, “Are you mad at me?”
He doesn’t say a word. He sternly takes hold of my arm and pulls me up. His reaction is too distressing for me to dare ask what he’s thinking. We return to the sinkhole, and he takes me to his room and pulls a book off of the shelf.
He thumbs through the pages and shoves the book into my hands, stern and commanding. “Chapter 27,” he says. “Page 536, paragraph 4. Read it.”
My eyes begin to skim, and he snaps, “Out loud.”
I comply. “An imbalance of magic use can cause a number of undesirable effects. Inexperienced Mentalists entering another person’s dream may have access to their memories. While this may seem harmless or even useful on the surface, this means the Mentalist has also opened up to vulnerabilities of their own mind. In other words, by opening a bigger door into the mind of another, the initiator’s mind is opened as well. The Mentalist will start to confuse his own ideals with those of the person whose mind he entered, and his own thoughts and memories are vulnerable to examination.”
“Oh,” I breathe.
“‘Oh’ indeed.”
He stares at me in silence again, his face eerily calm.
“Please say something,” I finally beg.
“I’m extremely angry with you.”
“You should be.” Oh, Elm. Please, please forgive me.
“But,” he sighs, “I’m also relieved. Relieved there’s an explanation for the things you said.” He gazes at me. “And that you haven’t had a change of heart about me.”
My heart swells and my lip quivers. “I’m sorry.” It’s not enough and will never be enough, but I can’t stop myself from saying it again. “I’m truly sorry.”
“You disregarded everything I told you.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t trust me enough to listen to what I asked.”
“I know.”
“And yet,” he throws himself onto the chair beside his bed, “I can’t help but be a little impressed.”
I stare at him with wide eyes, bewildered.
“The fact that you even managed to get into the dreamscape and target Selene specifically, with no training beyond what you read, is quite impressive. I am, of course, furious about the harm you’ve put yourself in, but really, I’m not sure why I’m surprised. We are talking about the girl who spent her whole life trying to be a Benefactor and then went rogue with a Mentalist because she had questions.” He flourishes his hand at that last word. “This is par for the course, really. I can’t control you. Nobody can.” He grins.
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
Now the anger is all mine. I want him to yell at me. I want him to cut through the guilt I feel. To show some sign of imperfection or just . . . something.
I put my hands on my hips. “You know, I’ve been worried sick this whole time. About the intruder. About what’s happening to me. Worrying that you might be kissing Samantha.” I can’t believe I just said that.
Elm’s laughter stops, and he looks at me. “Miss Ava. Do you really think I would do that to you?”
“I guess I was more worried she wouldn’t give you much choice.”
“Ah, fair enough, I suppose. But count on the fact that you would hear of nothing else from Sammy if that had occurred.”
“Why is she like that, anyway?” I huff.
“Like what, precisely?”
“So clingy. She acts like she owns you. And she behaves like a child.”
A shade of sadness crosses Elm’s face. “I think poor Sammy has been caught in a bit of a time capsule of herself. She put everything into finding me, and I suspect she hasn’t changed, because she hoped everything would be the same. I was her safe harbor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things weren’t good for Sammy at home. Her parents were abusive.”
It’s amazing how quickly those words extinguish the fire in me.
“She stayed with my family often, and we became fast friends. I felt more like her brother. Her protector. But she saw us differently.” His eyes are soft and distant. “She asked me to marry her when we grew up so that we’d always be together. I loved her—not in the way she wanted—but I wanted to make her happy.”
“And she still thinks you’re held to that bargain?” I bristle at the thought.
“Oh, I don’t believe she really thought she could pin me to promises we made when we were children. But in case there was any doubt, I did clear that up with her while we were away.” He gives me a glance, those hazel eyes both disconsolate and caring. “And, understand, Miss Ava, I wouldn’t hold you to any promises either.”
My heart stutters. This is it. I’ve messed up too badly this time. He’s going to find some nice way to say he’s ending our relationship. “What do you mean?”
He stares ahead, choosing his words carefully. “I always felt that you may eventually want to experience something or someone other than me. Selene hoarded you for so long that you never really got a chance to explore other relationships. I don’t suppose I can blame you.”
“So are you saying . . . you don’t want me to be with you?”
He looks startled and jumps from the chair to stand directly in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “No, Miss Ava. I’m only saying it’s new to you. If it were up to me, I would turn all the world to dust in order to keep you by my side. To hold you close always and banish anyone who even so much as thought about taking you away from me.” His eyes soften. “But that’s not entirely my choice. You have your own mind. Your own heart. And if you decide you want another, that’s not up to me.”
I have goosebumps.
