by Lisa Amowitz
Della climbed out of the chair and pressed her body against Kevin’s. They kissed slowly and passionately for my benefit. I was forced to watch, my body as rigid as a suit of armor.
“How does that feel?” Kevin asked, facing me. “What would you give for a few minutes to be able to move and be free of the constant pain?”
Della flipped her white-blonde hair behind her shoulder. Twisted and bent, I couldn’t even grit my teeth. I held back the moans that wanted to escape through my constricted throat. I didn’t want to give Kevin the satisfaction of my garbled screams.
I rolled my eyes upward. Even that simple movement was a great effort. On the ceiling, the darkness thickened. Kevin and Della left me writhing on the floor.
Blackness swirled about the room, thick as smoke. Stuck as I was, I had nothing better to do except attempt to control it. Breathing hurt my twisted ribcage, but I focused on slowing it to an even pace.
Who could really blame Kevin and Della for stealing a few moments of happiness? The black cloud dimmed and vanished as my sympathy for their plight kicked in. Left with nothing to do but tap the single finger I could move on the floorboards, I couldn’t help but think of Carson, trapped in his own unforgiving body. Would I want to die, or would I want live like this?
After what seemed like an endless amount of time, creaky movement returned to my joints, like the Tin Man after a good oiling. I staggered robotically to my feet just as Vincent came barging through Xavier’s door.
“Monica is heading to your room now. I’m not even going to ask what you’re doing in here. Lucky thing I came to see you first and found you gone.”
I stretched out my stiff joints, relishing the simple ability to move. “Kevin and Della have been using Xavier as a host for their parasitic love trysts!” I blurted.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Do you actually know what Della’s Talent is?”
Vincent stepped closer to me. “Della is a genius musician. Her gifts for composing are legendary. Some of us are simply extraordinarily gifted in the arts.”
“Della comes with a little something extra. She can shrug off her cerebral palsy, or whatever she’s got, like a coat, and thrust it on someone else. This time she put it on me. From the number of times I’ve seen her waltzing out of here, I think she’s been stealing Xavier’s health and screwing Kevin the Scream Eater.”
Vincent’s aqua eyes ignited. “That’s a very dangerous accusation.”
“So you really didn’t know, did you?”
Vincent frowned and rubbed his chin with an index finger. “Behavior like that is not sanctioned. The kind of abuse you’re describing is certainly not tolerated here.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Vincent glared at me. “Be careful what you say.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Vincent grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into a not-very-gentle embrace, his heat roaring into my veins. “I’m not afraid for me.”
“What about Xavier? Who’s afraid for him?”
21
AFTER I CHANGED INTO THE LOOSE-FITTING clothes Monica had left in the room for me, I raced to the library, where I found her already pacing. Clearly not happy about my lateness, she tried to cover up her annoyance with a tart smile. I thought about Xavier and my anger resurfaced, prickles of heat sliding up and down my spine. I’d have liked nothing more than to zap Monica with it, but that would only have landed me in way worse trouble than he was in.
I felt strangely naked without Vincent or Andre present, but Monica’s pinched expression kept me from asking for them. We entered the grand space to find it empty. Dust motes swirled in the light that streamed through the tall windows that interspersed the book-lined walls. Along one of the inner walls, a shelf slid silently open. Monica led me through a dark entrance into a damp winding corridor.
We walked endlessly through the downward-sloping halls, the air getting damper and darker by the minute, and entered a dim windowless room lined entirely with red velvet curtains. At the room’s center were an antique table, two wooden chairs, and three lit tapers flickering in a brass candelabra.
Monica nodded for me to sit and took the chair across from me. Without missing a beat, she leaned over the table and delivered a vicious ringing smack to my cheek. My head snapped back from the blow, and I gaped at her dumbfounded, rubbing at my stinging face. Already, a cloud of shadow hovered above us like a thunderhead. Monica looked up and smiled.
In a blink, I wasn’t looking at Monica anymore. Instead, I gazed into the loving blue eyes of my mother.
The cloud vanished with a little poof and I was looking at Monica again. She reached across the table and touched my face with one manicured finger. The fiery ache was gone.
“We have a lot of work to do, Beth, and it’s not without risk for either of us. But before we can even begin, we need to understand the lay of the land. No two Talents are the same. Each one has its own rules, its own trigger points and sources of origin.”
I stared at Monica, my heart pounding, but said nothing. I was far too petrified to speak.
“I’ve read many books on the subject,” she purred, “but there is still no substitute for trial and error. Our work is going to be slow, methodical, and tedious.”
“How did you—?” I blurted finally.
“Change? The answer is simple. I didn’t change. I didn’t even slap you. My Talent is Sensory Illusion. I can make you see, feel, taste, and hear whatever I want.”
“The time in the Evaluation when I couldn’t move?”
Monica nodded. “Yes. It’s quite a useful Talent. But like all Volatile Talents, it is strictly regulated, and is on the government’s watch list. Like yours will be. If we are caught violating the rules of the Contract, our entire world will be put at risk. Our alliance with the Regular world is an uneasy one at best.”
The words rushed out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. “What about Xavier? Is his punishment all an illusion?”
Monica’s face colored for a split second before returning to its usual creamy white, eyes sparkling like rare jewels in the candlelight’s warm glow. “I don’t know what you mean by punishment. Xavier’s room detention is nearly over. Hopefully he has learned his lesson this time. The boy seems to have an allergic reaction to rules.”
“But—”
Monica waved a hand dismissively. “I can assure you, this is all familiar territory for Xavier. If not for Gideon’s generosity he would have been long gone, sent off to a more secure facility. Now, we need to focus on you.”
“What about the mouse? At the Evaluation?”
“That,” Monica said with a smile, “was totally real.”
Then the room went utterly dark. I heard their chittering first, as what might have been an army of mice crawled up my pant legs in a mad rush to be the first up the mountain.
Real or imagined, I was going to scream, or burst into flames, I wasn’t sure which.
“I know this is terrifying, Beth,” Monica said from somewhere in the room, “and I’m sorry to put you through this, but it’s necessary to locate the source of your power.”
My breathing came in shivering gulps. The mice were scrambling up my T-shirt now. I shoved them off of me, but more kept coming. There was no way I could focus on anything but the fear.
“Focus, Beth. Do you feel it?”
All I could feel was my heart hacking its way out of my ribcage.
“You want them to die. Pinpoint the origin of your desire.”
I scanned my panicked mind. Electric prickles writhed up my back, but without the ability to see, I had no idea where the shadow formation was, or if it was there at all. I was flying blind.
“I can’t! If I can’t see it, I don’t know if it’s there!” The mice were clawing at my collar. I felt their tiny paws grasping at my hair. I could barely draw in my next breath. “Please. No more. I can’t do this,” I pleaded. When this was over, I was going
to kill Monica with my bare hands. If I survived.
“Search for it, Beth. The Death sense is like an underground spring. Find its source and it’s yours to control.”
The mice were climbing onto my head, their scratchy little claws digging into my scalp. More and more were on my legs and torso. I was bathed in sweat, nauseous, ready to faint. But beneath my crazily beating heart was a cold spot. Desperate, I centered my focus there. An electric vibration fanned out from the place under my heart, humming through my extremities. I sharpened my focus, imagining the heartbeat of each mouse shutting down.
There was a concussive blast that knocked me backward in my chair. My fingers and legs burned with the aftershock. Then I went numb.
Seconds later, I lay blinking on a floor strewn with the corpses of dead mice.
Monica extended a hand and pulled me to my feet. I looked around to find that there were only five mice, tops.
“Well done, Beth.”
I grabbed for the back of the chair. I was so weak, I didn’t think my legs would hold me upright. My recently mended leg screamed with pain. Monica’s form wove in and out of focus.
“That is enough for today. We’ve accomplished a lot.” She wrapped my arm around her shoulder to keep me from falling over. “Until you gain mastery over your Talent, using it will deplete your energy. You must build up a gradual tolerance.”
We stumbled along, my feet dragging, her voice tinny in my ears. “And Beth,” she continued, “it goes without saying that you must keep the nature of your Talent confidential. Only Vincent and Gideon know your secret. If word got out, there would be an uproar here at High Step. Many of the students are from old Talented families who wield a lot of influence in our world.”
Somehow, Monica managed to guide me through the underground labyrinth and back to the library. Half-blind, my bones turned to sponge, I collapsed into the waiting arms of Andre, who carried me back to my room and tucked me into bed.
His touch soothed me into a fitful sleep and I was excused from classes for the rest of the day. When I woke, Dawn was sitting beside me, a worried Lila peering over her shoulder.
“They say you had a very bad reaction to your training,” Lila said.
“We thought we could help ease your symptoms,” Dawn added shyly.
Lila was staring shrewdly at me. “Thing is, no one really knows what your Talent is.”
I rubbed my aching forehead. “It’s the Chameleon effect. You know that,” I lied weakly. After seeing a little of what Monica could do, there was no way I was taking her subtle threats lightly.
Lila slanted her head, lips pursed. Dawn ran her hands lightly over my torso.
“I understand,” Lila said in a clipped tone. “We are taught that only the deadly Talents cause a strong reaction.”
Dawn withdrew, leaving me feeling remarkably better. Lila was still staring at me, a mixture of disappointment and hurt stamped across her features. “I won’t pry, Beth. I promise. But you need friends in this place. Real friends. Xavier’s problem is that he never seemed to get that.”
Dawn nodded from behind Lila.
“I just wanted to tell you that I found a pair of shoes for your Reveal. And that there’s a dance party in the Rec Room after dinner tonight. It’s not something you want to—or should—miss.”
22
BY DINNERTIME, I WAS FEELING MUCH BETTER. Vincent called for me and, without mentioning my afternoon training session, took me down to the dining hall. It was Wednesday night, two nights before my big Reveal, and the hall was buzzing with talk of the party later that evening. Bits and pieces of information spilled out until it became clear that this party was special, that it was basically a semi-annual pageant that High Step put on for its Benefactors. Though I asked repeatedly, no one, not even Lila, would explain exactly who these mysterious Benefactors were, only that they would be watching.
Monica entered the dining hall, breezily elegant in a gauzy silver gown that set off her gleaming eyes. Looking at her dazzling beauty, I was forced to wonder how much of it was real and how much was illusion. I caught Vincent staring at me, his mouth set firm, and looked away, thinking about how the shadows were filled with sharp things, ready to slice me to ribbons.
As I was thinking this, my gaze snapped across the room to where Della’s wheelchair was being rolled in. Kevin, I noticed, was already seated on the other side of the hall. Poking dispiritedly at his food, he was clearly unaware of her entrance. Guiding the chair to their usual spot at the table was Xavier, looking as pale and cadaverous as a mushroom growing under a rock. His eyes darted nervously across the hall, landing on nothing in particular. He walked with a shuffling gait, one hand on the grips of the wheelchair, the other stuffed in a pocket.
I forced my attention back to the lively chatter. The dining hall bristled with a combination of anticipation and nervous energy.
“What are we supposed to wear to this thing?” I asked.
Lila’s brows shot up. “It’s come as you are. You’ll see. It’s crazy that they’re having this two days before your Reveal, but there’s never advance notice. They just thrust these pageants on us twice a year with no warning to keep us on our toes.”
“Who are ‘they?’”
Lila looked at me funny. “The Guild, of course. They run everything.”
After dinner, we were each given a silk blindfold and instructed to lay a hand on the shoulder of the person in front of us. We were led on an endless trudge into the damp-smelling bowels of the compound; After what seemed like a long slog into hell, we were told to remove our blindfolds. Our eyes blinked open to a grand ballroom ablaze with the flickering light of countless tiny candles. Scores of giant flower-garlanded nests hovered three feet off the floor, while tiny, vividly colored winged creatures cavorted and swooped like hummingbirds.
Lila, inexplicably wreathed from head to toe in glorious sea-foam taffeta, her black hair crowned with diamond dust, cast me an amazed glance. Dazed, I scanned the room. All of us were clothed in silks and gowns befitting a Victorian dance. I was outfitted in an amethyst silk gown with a long flowing train studded with emeralds and sapphires.
“Monica’s outdone herself this year,” Lila proclaimed. “Too bad none of this is real.”
I was too dazzled to comment, and my attention drifted. My breath caught. Vincent strode toward me across the ballroom. A black tuxedo set off the shimmering gold of his curls; his turquoise eyes were like slivers of tropical sea.
He looked me up and down. “You look—astounding.”
“It isn’t real,” I said.
Vincent pulled me into his arms, his lips pressed against my ear. “Does it matter, ma chérie?”
Unearthly music floated on the air and I was dizzy with it, intoxicated by the flowers’ heady perfume and Vincent’s sweet breath. “I don’t know.”
Drawn into a whirling dance, our silk and taffeta gowns spun into a mass of wild color. Hooded figures lined the wall like sentinels, flanking the shadows, so still that I wondered if they were statues. I meant to ask, but was too swept up in the grandeur and the thump of Vincent’s heart beating against my ribs.
The floor dropped away and we were lifted above the bowers, floating up to the rafters. Laughing, Vincent kissed me. We were lighter than air, all of us drunk on the opulent beauty of the Pageant.
Darkness blotted my thoughts for only a moment as I wondered how Kevin and Della experienced this dance, if the illusion was strong enough to include them. Then I spotted them whirling past like two happy clouds, Kevin with eyes the color of emeralds that were fixed on his elfin partner. I smiled ruefully as they passed, strangely glad to see them happy.
We settled to the ballroom floor like falling petals. The nests dropped with us, each one housing a table laden with overflowing platters of candy and fruit.
We took our seats and a hush fell over the room. The candlelight dimmed. I caught Lila’s gaze and she smiled back at me, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering.
Our tables were arranged like spokes on a wheel. At the center of the wheel, a raised circular stage lifted from the floor. Lit by a brilliant spotlight, a figure rose from within a haze of mist. It was only when the smoke cleared that I realized that the figure, who stood with arms extended, was Xavier. His eyes closed as if deep in concentration, he was dressed in a long-tailed white silk tuxedo, his shoulder-length hair a glossy raven black. His scarred skin was smooth and perfect, unblemished.
His singing started as a breathy whisper and gained volume until it shook the walls and vibrated inside of my bones. Candles surged brighter. Nobody breathed or shifted in their seats. Even Vincent, who squeezed my hand, was caught up in the magic.
Then the room went dark and silent. When the light returned, Xavier was gone, replaced by Monica and Gideon, who stood in his place accepting the thunderous applause that should have been his. Gideon was regal in a purple velvet robe, light sparking off his huge ruby ring and reflected in the russet tones of his hair. I still had no idea what Gideon’s Talent was.
My throat was dry and parched. No amount of fluid would ever quench my thirst for Xavier’s voice. Or for him. I glanced at Vincent, feeling guilty.
I wanted to ask what the purpose of all this fuss was, but his look told me not to question.
The party continued for what seemed an eternity. I danced and ate until I thought my stomach would burst and my feet might fall off. I’m not sure what was in the punch, but the room melted into a dizzy blur of color and laughter.
Eventually, the lights dimmed, the sounds quieted and our blindfolds were returned to us. We were led, disoriented and stuffed full of food, out of the ballroom through the endless twisting corridors. With each step the illusion faded; swishing taffeta, cool against my calves, giving way to jeans and sneakers. My giddy mood dissolved. My stomach growled with hunger pangs. It was as though the entire party had never happened.
As we trudged along, something hit me hard across the shins. I stumbled from the blow, falling to my knees on the cold stone floor. I was yanked away before the blind herd could trample me, taken by a captor with an iron grip and a slow shuffling gait, uneven breath scraping through their lungs. I struggled wildly to free myself as I became aware of the dark cloud that made its presence known in the space above us. Heart hammering, I called out, but my cries died on the damp air.