We went on like that all afternoon. The more time I spent huddled in my mental fortress, the more comfortable I grew there, and the more durable my defenses became. As they strengthened, though, so too did the power of Carlisle’s telepathic assault.
There never seemed to be limits with him.
When one of our bouts had stretched long enough, I thought maybe I’d done it, that maybe he had nothing else to throw at me. Then some distant warning whispered to me, and something hit my chest. As deeply immersed as I was in our mental battle, I hadn’t felt Carlisle’s shove coming.
My eyes snapped open, and I teetered backward, oddly unable to pull out of my slow cross-legged tip back to the matted floor, like the inevitable tumble of a felled tree. I realized what was happening and threw myself back into my mental defenses.
“Too late,” Carlisle’s voice echoed from within my mind.
“You cheated!”
Carlisle returned control return to me, and I indignantly righted myself.
“There is no cheating,” he said. “Not when it comes to fighting for your life.”
I bristled with a hot retort, but Carlisle held up his hands in peace.
“It was a great start, Hal. I was concerned about your reliance on brute force of will, but your defenses were getting rather strong at the end there. Surprisingly so for your first time. With practice, it’ll become nearly impenetrable, and with even more practice, you’ll learn to hold it in the background so you can focus on fighting.”
I exhaled, forced my aching body to relax, and nodded. “All right, then. Bring on the practice.”
Just three days after waking up in a sea of bruises, I’d healed well enough that I only felt as sore as I might have after a particularly rough sparring match with Carlisle. Wonders of modern medical technology.
Franco’s machines were still hard at work on the Vantage data decryption. None of us were entirely sure what we were hoping to gain from the drive, aside from leverage to either dismantle their operations ourselves or expose them to the public somehow.
Franco plainly leaned toward the latter.
“Not to sell us short,” he said as we discussed it in his study one day, “but we’ve seen what they can do. I think it’s safe to say that we’re outmatched at this point. But exposing them could change that.”
Outmatched? Of course we were. We always had been. They had not one, but two armies now, one of which was playing outside the rules of nature. The question wasn’t whether we could take them head on. The question was how we were supposed to expose an enemy that had control of the Legion, the Sanctum, and apparently the WAN too.
What could we possibly do that they wouldn’t just sweep under the rug? And even if we could get word out, what could we say to actually convince Enochia that their leaders were either malicious demons themselves or, at the very least, being controlled by them? We had our own footage from Vantage, of course, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to claim it was all just make-believe storyvid effects.
“Clearly, convincing the world that some of its most prominent leaders are in fact red-eyed monsters would be a problem,” Franco admitted. “We’d need undeniable proof of who they are and what they’re doing to those people at Vantage. Hard facts others can dig up and verify themselves. And we’d need to broadcast it in a way that can’t be brushed aside like they did with the Vantage break in, or with...”
“With my parents’ murder,” I said.
Franco nodded apologetically.
I tried to keep us moving past it. “So what you’re saying is we’d basically need to compile the world’s best propaganda vid and commandeer one of the Legion’s emergency broadcast bunkers?”
I couldn’t help but snort at the thought.
After another half hour of discussion, we all agreed we needed to have a look at the drive’s contents before we could settle on any real plan. Worse, Franco wasn’t even sure how much longer it’d take, other than that it would hopefully be less than another cycle.
It was not an encouraging meeting. But at least I was ready to return to full training with Carlisle that day.
We sparred. We Shaped. And the next day, we did it again.
On the third day of our sparring, Franco wandered in to watch us spring about the mats, trading blows back and forth. James poked his head in a minute later, followed shortly thereafter by Phineas. Carlisle didn’t seem to mind the spectators while we sparred but asked for privacy when it was time to move to our Shaping exercises.
The following morning, they came back, and Elise came with them. She stole my attention as she always did when she walked into the room. Carlisle rewarded my distraction with a firm kick to my newly-healed chest.
I went with the blow and managed to transition into a backward handspring, sparing another brief glance at Elise as I landed back on my feet. Her concerned look quickly shifted to a devilish grin and a tilt of the head that seemed to say, Not half bad.
After that, I was back in the fight with vigor.
Just like that, our morning sparring became something of a daily entertainment event for the household. On the seventh day of our public showing, once we’d finished sparring, Franco surprised me by asking if we’d mind putting on a Shaping demonstration. Carlisle surprised me further by agreeing. Most surprising of all, though, was the fact that Elise didn’t appear to be the least bit confused by the conversation—merely excited. She knew about Shaping. Which meant I’d kept one more thing from her that I probably hadn’t needed to.
At Carlisle’s behest, I telekinetically shot weighted training balls at him, flicking my wrist with each throw mostly for dramatic effect. One-by-one, he pulled them into planar orbit around himself, forming an impromptu model of our four-planet solar system. Then he closed his eyes, and a radiance spread outward from his body, growing until he resembled a large sun at the center of his orbiting planets.
I laughed while the others clapped and let out appreciative ooohs and ahhhs, gaping at Carlisle’s solar mimicry in open wonder. Even Phineas looked like he was dangerously close to cracking a smile.
And then there was Elise.
I don’t know if it was the way the glow of Carlisle’s sun was reflecting in her wide blue eyes or if I was just excited to be openly showing her this side of myself, but inspiration struck me as her eyes met mine.
I kneeled and placed my palm to the mat, feeling out along the floor with my extended senses until I found the stone at Elise’s feet. Before I had time to think it through, I tapped into the energy from the lights above and let it flow through me, willing the image in my mind to reality.
There was an intake of breath across the room—Elise’s, I thought. I kept the energy flowing and felt more than saw the small tendril of stone begin to sprout from the slab at her feet. The lights dimmed then flickered as I drained their energy to my purpose. For a few seconds, the room was lit only by Carlisle’s light.
My head and chest buzzed with the crackle of channeled energy—more than I was used to handling. A chill crept through me. And, in the yellow glow of Carlisle’s sun, we all watched as the stone stem thinned and blips slowly emerged to form into the shapes of petals and leaves.
I released my energy sources, and the lights shot back on in the room, brightly illuminating the surprisingly passable stone flower I’d just grown out of the floor. I stared at the tiny sculpture, every bit as stunned as everyone else.
James gave a few excited claps, then stopped at the look Phineas gave him. Franco was staring at the flower as if he were assessing whether its presence were some kind of security threat.
I’d made a mistake.
It was only a flower. But I knew that the feelings that had called it forth were not simply friendly ones, and judging from the tension in the room, everyone else could see that too. Everyone, maybe, except Elise, who was still fixated on her flower, face alight as she traced the stone petals beneath her fingers.
Her eyes found mine and, for the briefest moment,
it was just the two of us in that room. Then my racing heart pulled me back to the painful silence. It had stretched too long. Why wouldn’t someone say something?
I glanced desperately back at Carlisle, whose radiance had dimmed, his planets now stationary.
“Help! I didn’t mean to do it.”
He frowned a little, and I thought he might leave me to flounder.
Thankfully, he wasn’t so cruel.
“I hope you all enjoyed the rousing finale,” he said, allowing his radiance to die out completely and his stationary planets to shoot over and resume their existence on the shelves as ordinary training balls, “but I think Hal and I better get to our own practice now. As impressive as Shaping flowers is, I can’t imagine it’s going to be much help in the coming days. Allow me to fix that for you.”
He extended a hand, and, across the room, the stone flower gave a sad twitch and reluctantly melted back into the floor, restoring the grainy gray surface to its original state.
I kept my mouth shut, embarrassment and gratitude and indignation all warring for position inside.
The unmaking of the flower, along with Carlisle’s peaceful words, quelled whatever troublesome thoughts were brewing in Franco’s mind—or drew a cordial smile out of him, at least. “Of course, of course. Thank you for letting us watch. It took me back.”
Took him back? To what, exactly?
Now didn’t seem like the time to ask.
Elise’s gaze lingered on the spot where the flower had receded into the floor, then she gave me a sad smile and turned to join the others as they left.
“How bad was that?” I asked when they’d gone and we were sitting down to move on to telepathic sparring.
“It could have been worse,” Carlisle’s voice came to me, “but you need to be careful, Hal. Mindful. Respectful. For the mission, if nothing else.”
I hesitated. “Are you displeased with me?”
“The situation would be less complicated if the two of you could set these feelings aside,” he finally replied. “But no, I’m not upset with you. I only ask that you avoid stepping on Franco’s toes like you just did. My approval doesn’t matter. For now, his does.”
“Thank you,” I sent, hoping he could feel the sincerity of the thought.
I wanted to correct him and point out that Elise and I were only friends anyway, despite what I might feel. But the thought of broaching that topic with Carlisle made me want to squirm, despite the fact that he’d been inside my head multiple times in the past days.
“How did I even do that, by the way? Everything else I’ve learned has been so deliberate, but I didn’t even think twice about it. It just kind of happened.”
“You were inspired,” he sent with a tone suggesting it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Most refer to what you just did as Expression. You’ve seen how Shaping can be approached one simple transfer at a time, each with fairly predictable laws and balances. If what you’ve practiced so far is the hard science of Shaping, then Expression is the art.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand. I mean, I still drew energy from the lights. It was still a transfer.”
“Yes. The laws of conservation will always apply. It’s more that, in the right context, with the right emotions and strength of will, Shapers can sometimes accomplish more abstract, complex feats than they might otherwise be able to frame accurately in their minds, based on their limited understanding of physical law.”
“Ah. That kind of makes sense. I guess.”
He studied me thoughtfully, looking like he had more to say on the matter. Finally, though, he dropped whatever it was, and we settled in for the day’s lesson.
24
Slip
That night, after a hard day’s training and a perfectly civil dinner with the others, my wandering feet carried me back to the training room. I sat for a long while at the edge of the matted floor, fingers tracing the cool stone slab where I’d coaxed the flower into existence earlier that day.
Even after Carlisle’s explanation about Expression, I still didn’t quite understand how I’d done it. I wished he hadn’t erased it, but I didn’t really blame him. Idly, I wondered if I’d be capable of recreating the sculpture. I didn’t see why not, but I also wasn’t remotely sure how I’d even start.
“We’re gonna have to get another training room,” came Elise’s voice from the doorway.
I barely managed to contain a startled jolt, absorbed as I’d been in my ruminations. She was leaned up against the doorframe in her dark, form-fitting training clothes, studying me.
“Provided I ever wanna get another productive session in, at least,” she added.
“Sorry, I was just, uh…” I glanced at the flower spot, unsure what to say.
“I know,” she said, her expression softening. “It was beautiful, Hal. Probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever made for me.” She smiled. “And when I was younger, Phineas made me this super kick-ass wooden pony, so that’s kinda saying something.”
I snorted at the thought. “What is it with you and that old grouch? You seem to be the only person on Enochia he likes.”
“Nonsense,” she insisted, furrowing her brow.
“Oh yeah?”
“Well… he’s at least slightly fond of James. Though I don’t think he’d ever admit it.”
I smiled. “So those two have been with you that long, then?”
“My happy little family, ever since Mom passed,” she confirmed. “Three grown men trying to raise a girl,” she added with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “What a fun twelve years it’s been.”
“Has it really just been the four of you all these years? I mean, do you at least get to, you know, get out sometimes?”
“Sometimes.” She wrinkled her nose. “Although Daddy Dearest almost always sends Phineas with me, sooo… Not so easy, making friends and whatnot when you have a grumpy old bear for a shadow. Not that I don’t have any friends or anything, but…” She shrugged and tried to laugh it off. “Okay, so maybe I don’t have so many friends.”
“Hey, no, I’m not trying to say…” Alpha bless my awkward bones. The last thing I’d wanted to do was hit a nerve or sound like I was judging. Somehow, I’d just managed to accidentally do both. “I mean, I can count on my fingers alone the number of times I’d stepped outside of Sanctuary before this all started. I just meant…”
Her eyes crinkled with a smile as she watched me fumble.
“… that that sounds lonely, I guess,” I finished, almost certainly blushing now. “But hey, I’m right there with you these days.”
Her smile widened. “And aren’t I just sooo lucky for that.”
I met her eyes, and her expression sobered a few shades.
“I really am glad you’re here,” she said softly.
“Me too.”
I only half-heard my own words, on account of her eyes doing that thing they did sometimes where they’d pull me in and then drop me off the side of a cliff. The gaze lingered. Any moment, my thundering heart was going to pop out of my throat, and yet I couldn’t look away.
She was the one to break our eye contact this time, an honor that normally went to me. I’d gotten the impression she actually rather liked watching me squirm in these quiet moments.
Had I done something differently this time? Something wrong?
I looked back at the floor, trying to still my racing heart. “Sorry about your flower.”
“No, I’m sorry about the way my dad…” She was staring at her feet, searching for the words. Finally, she gave up and threw her hands to the air. “I just don’t know what he expects me to do, trapped in here like a prisoner all the time! Like”—she spread her hands to the house around us—“what is this?”
“This… is a training room. Pretty nice one, too. Though I hear it may have a lurker problem.”
It was a bad joke. I admit it. But I had nothing else. I just wanted to make her smile. So, I held my breath on the end of her incredulous stare, w
aiting.
When she finally did laugh, I’m pretty sure it had more to do with the look on my face than my joke, but I counted it a win anyway.
“Alpha, you’re such a dolt!”
I rolled to my feet and pointed a finger menacingly. “Take it back!”
She arched an eyebrow in a rather alluring fashion. “Or else?”
Lacking a clever response, I decided to go for shock factor instead. I crossed my arms dramatically and channeled the necessary energy to bring the air around us to a gusting swirl that tugged at my tunic and set Elise’s ponytail dancing.
“Oookay…” she said as the buffeting wind died down.
“Are you sufficiently impressed?”
“Maybe,” she said, her eyes bright and curious. “How does it work, exactly?”
I uncrossed my arms. “What, Shaping?”
She nodded.
I hesitated, but the expectant look in her blue eyes broke me before she even had to press the matter. She already knew Shaping existed. From there, I couldn’t see how explaining the specifics would really matter.
Mostly, I was just excited to finally tell her something of substance without feeling like I was breaking the rules.
“Well, it basically all comes down to energy exchange. You take it from one spot and use it to make something happen somewhere else. Like just now, I drained heat from the air and used that energy to push other patches of air around, which started a kind of cascade of different air densities and temperatures all trying to stabilize.”
“That’s…” She frowned. “Oh.”
“You seem disappointed.”
“No, it’s just… Well, from the stories I’ve heard, it just always sounded more magical, you know?”
I cocked my head. “What stories have you heard, exactly? And where from? I’d never heard a peep about Shaping before I met Carlisle.”
“My dad does trade information for a living. Or did, at least, before he decided to bolt the doors and hole up with a pair of dangerous terrorists.”
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