Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

  “Wait,” I say, holding a hand up. “You were in Annar this weekend? Why didn’t you come see me?” Me, who was also in Annar, trapped in some random, albeit swank, safe house. It doesn’t matter that Caleb and Jonah were with me—she should have called.

  “I figured you and Jonah wanted time to yourselves. Anyway, the point is, I saw Kellan with some girl.”

  “Some girl,” I repeat slowly.

  “Yeah,” she says, eyes back down on her phone. She blushes and types out a message. I wait impatiently, tapping my foot before she glances back up. “As I was saying, he was with some girl. And they were, you know, friendly.”

  I try not to grind my teeth. Which startles me, because, HELLO, this is actually good news, right?

  “And I was told it’s not the first time, or first girl. He’s playing the field, and having a swell time doing it, I guess.”

  And yet, I’ve begun to see red. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I thought you’d be happy. I mean, less guilt now, right?”

  I want to strangle her. Truthfully, anyone would do, but I’d prefer it to be her. Rather than screaming at her for her oblivious idiocy, I instead demand shrilly, “Who in the hell are you texting so much lately, Cora?”

  She doesn’t look up. Instead, a small, sly smile curves her lips. “Secrets are fun, aren’t they?”

  “I think Cora has a secret boyfriend,” I grumble to Jonah as we get into the Hummer.

  “And this pisses you off why?”

  “Because she won’t tell me who it is!”

  Karl and Jonah exchange an amused glance, which only further irritates me. I sulk in petulant silence for the next two miles before Jonah says, “So. You and Kellan are going to have a talk this afternoon.”

  This snaps me to attention. “How’d you know?”

  “He told me a little while ago. I think it’s a good idea.”

  “I was going to tell you,” I whisper as Karl conveniently turns up the volume on the radio. “Just as soon as we got to my house.”

  Jonah looks out of the window on his side. “I know.”

  It’s at times like this I resent his ability to read my emotions when I have to fight to figure out what he’s feeling. His face is neutral, his body fairly relaxed. But I know he can’t be happy about this. “He thinks it’ll help,” I whisper.

  “He can think that,” Jonah says, so softly that I can’t even be sure these are the right words.

  Kellan is already at the beach in his wetsuit, sitting in the sand and staring at the ocean. It’s bitterly cold outside; just to stay moderately warm, I’m forced to wear a knit hat and gloves as well as Jonah’s wool pea coat and my Uggs. I sit down next to him in the sand and together we watch the waves crash in front of us.

  After a long while, he murmurs, “So.”

  “So,” I repeat just as quietly.

  Sand shifts through his fingers. “I’ve been really angry at you and Jonah for awhile now.”

  “You have every right to be angry at me,” I say, even though it hurts to hear this. “But please—don’t be mad at Jonah. He’s not at fault for any of this, and you know it.”

  “Oh, Chloe,” Kellan says, laughing softly. “Don’t you understand? He had every opportunity for a year to tell me what was going on, and he didn’t. So yeah, I have every right to be mad at him, too.”

  I sigh and pull my knees up under my chin. Rehashing the bad choices Jonah and I made will do none of us any good. I’m here to listen, the little voice sternly reminds me, to answer what Kellan asks, and to accept what he has to give, even if it ends up being nothing.

  It takes him another few minutes to continue. “You know about Callie, right?”

  I nod warily.

  “I watched him with her for years. Until a few months ago, I’d thought I knew what Jonah was like with someone he loves. But … what he feels for you …” More sand trickles through his fingers. “Let’s just say that I am very clear on what you two mean to each other. You are the most important person in his life, and not in just a typical high-school-crush sort of way, either. So, believe me when I say I get that. What I don’t get is how I can’t seem to let go of the feelings I have for you. But I’m trying, I want you to know that.”

  It’s impossible to feel worse at this moment. I apologize, but he cuts me off. “I know, and to be fair, you’ve been pretty upfront about your feelings ever since you and Jonah got back together. I know it’s not like you two did this to hurt me.” He scoops big chunks of sand up in both hands and squeezes. “But … I thought that, given time, I’d move on. And it’s not happening, not like I want it to. So … I think maybe once we get to Annar, it’d be best if we just weren’t around each other anymore. It’s a little hard in high school, but maybe there, with you two on track for Council, and me for the Guard, there’s more room for space.”

  I drop my head onto my knees so I don’t have to watch him tell me this. “You know I have to work with the Guard, too.”

  “I know. But it’s logical that you’ll be paired up with Jonah.”

  The little voice in the back of my mind is relieved. I’m not, though. I’m devastated by such a request. But I know I have to give this to him, because he’s asking, and because I love him enough to give him what he wants and needs. And if he needs me gone, if he wants the distance … I’d hoped we’d be friends. I hoped I could have that small bit.

  “Can I ask you one thing, though?” he says.

  I don’t look up, because breaking down while Giuliana is watching from her car in the parking lot would be a very bad thing. I’ve been around the Guard enough to know that this bit of juicy gossip would spread like wildfire within twenty-four hours. I mumble miserably, “Sure.”

  “Is there anything left that you might have once felt for me? A part that belonged to me, if it ever did really exist?”

  I’ve also been around two Emotionals long enough to know that he knows exactly how I’m feeling at the moment, and whether or not I still love him. He knows I do. I don’t get why he wants to hear it, though. Maybe to torture me … ?

  Sometimes words are nice, the little voice begrudgingly offers. Words are tangible things to hold onto, even when a person is long gone.

  “You know there is,” I finally tell him.

  We sit in uncomfortable silence for another few minutes, Kellan continuing to sift sand slowly through his fingers, me gripping onto my knees in an effort to stay sane. When I can’t handle the hush any longer, I ask, in an effort to shift the conversation toward something not so painful, “Are you looking forward to Ascending in a few days on your birthday?”

  He offers a humorless laugh. “I guess.”

  I roll my head to the side so I can see him. “Jonah won’t let me get him a present. He says you guys never celebrate your birthday.”

  “It’s hard to celebrate a day like that.”

  “Your birthday?”

  He gives me a confused look.

  “Because … birthdays are … bad?”

  “Hasn’t Jonah talked to you about this?”

  It’s my turn to be confused.

  Kellan shakes his head and looks away. “Our mom died on our fifth birthday.”

  Whaaat? I knew she’d died when he was young, but on his birthday? “Jonah never told me this,” I finally manage. And just why hadn’t he? “Is it a secret?”

  Kellan gives a short laugh. “If the Old Man had his way, it would be.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He blames us. Still.”

  I can’t help but scoot closer. “That’s ridiculous. Why would he?”

  “Maybe you should ask J,” Kellan offers.

  “I’m asking you.”

  He lets go of the sand and rubs his hands together. “My mother had taken us to the grocery store to buy stuff to make cakes. She always made each one of us a cake … just a little one, you know—that way, she said, we’d each have our own and not have to share.”

  “That was very tho
ughtful,” I say, resisting the urge to put my arms around him in comfort.

  His lower lip trembles for just a second. “She was really great, Chloe.”

  “Of course she was,” I say, completely believing this. I mean, look at how wonderful her sons are. How could she not have been?

  He smiles just a little, and I urge him to continue. “We were playing in the parking lot, like idiots, not really paying attention—and I guess a car was coming toward us that we didn’t see. She pushed us out of the way just in time, but it hit her. There were no Shamans in the area, my father was in Annar at the time, and I guess … I guess her injuries were enough to kill her.”

  I don’t try to hide the tears this time.

  He says, very, very softly, “We knew better than to play like that.”

  “You were five,” I say, no longer resisting the urge to touch him. I lay a hand, just one, on his arm and squeeze gently. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t either of your faults.”

  There’s another short, sad laugh before he takes a shuddery breath. “I’m going to have to concur with J on the no-birthday thing. Just let him have the day without making a big deal out of it.” He then sighs and moves his arm away from mine. “It’s too bad you can’t be there for Ascension; he’d probably really appreciate having you around.”

  I quickly lace my fingers back together in front of me. “Will you be there for each other?”

  “Sure. We’ll always have each other, especially on that day each year.”

  chapter 42

  Jonah and Kellan will have each other during Ascension, whether or not they’re angry with one another. I, like everyone else who isn’t a twin, will have no one. Ascending is a solitary process that pushes a Magical to their boundaries. If you bounce back, you’re good to go. If you

  crack …

  Well, I don’t really know what happens to those who crack, and Karl won’t tell me when I ask, since no one is allowed to talk about their Ascension experience. Each Ascension is unique and tailored specifically for the person going through the change.

  It’s safe to say that I’ve begun praying that I won’t be part of the forty percent who cannot deal with their influx of power.

  Karl was right—Jonah was upset when he initially heard I’d be Ascending early, which was ironic, as he’s set to do the same. He apparently already knew about the odds, which made it all the worse for him when it came to me. I listened to him and Karl argue about it, and then him and Zthane on the phone, but the decision was already made so there was nothing he could do to change it.

  “It’ll be okay,” I tell him, right before he’s to leave for Annar for his own Ascension. “We’re going to be okay. Ascending will be a piece of cake. Just watch.”

  He holds me closer, and I close my eyes when he presses his lips against my forehead. “I know.”

  “Are you scared about tomorrow?” I feel his head turn against mine. “It’s ridiculous they won’t let me come, even if it’s to hang out in some safe house. I’d feel easier being close by, if something … if …”

  “I wish you could be nearby, too,” he murmurs. “But nothing will happen. It’s like you said: We’re going to be okay.”

  A brief, horrible image flashes through my mind, of what would happen if something were to happen to him tomorrow morning. It would be bad, very bad … because I don’t know if I’d be able to control the grief. “Tell me what time again?”

  “Two thirty-two in the morning.” The exact time of his birth—the very earliest second he can Ascend. “Promise me you won’t stay up all night worrying.”

  Silly boy. “How long will it take?”

  I love the scrape of his stubble against my cheek. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

  I drill Karl later that night. “You know I can’t talk about this stuff,” he says. “You might as well give up now.”

  “Forty percent,” I stress angrily.

  “Them be crummy odds,” he agrees. We are in the backyard, along with Caleb, once more working on my skills. They think this will better prepare me for Ascension, even though there is no empirical evidence to support such a belief. “Now, I want you to create a striated layer of rock.”

  Annoyed, I flick my hand out and a small slab of brightly striped rock appears on the table in front of him. He picks it up and frowns. “What’s with the amethyst layer?”

  I roll my eyes. As a Quake, he knows far too much about rocks. “Can we get back to—”

  He pushes it back toward me. “That’s a gemstone.”

  “So?”

  “Give me a genuinely striated rock, Chloe. One found in nature.”

  “Is that even a genuine geological term?” Caleb muses.

  I laugh and produce another small slab, this time with the requisite layers. And then I sit down on the bench, folding my hands in front of me. “No more parlor tricks until you spill the beans, Karl.” I look at my Faerie friend. “Or Caleb.”

  “Oh, I think I’m going to stay quiet and let the big guy do the explaining here.” Caleb gives me a wink. “If he can.”

  Karl glares at him, but it’s just for show. He and Caleb are actually pretty good friends nowadays. “Look. It’s not that I’m banned from talking, it’s that we physically aren’t able to. Protection of the species and whatnot.”

  “Then tell me what you can.”

  He struggles for a good minute. “All right. I can tell you this: you have approximately fifteen percent of your powers right now. Once you Ascend, you will automatically be pushed to one hundred percent—that’s a big difference, right? Imagine what it’ll be like—you’ll be saturated in power. It’s difficult to contain immediately, and would be destructive if let loose on society. So, you’re given time and a way to contain it. That’s something only you can learn to do—no one can teach you that.”

  “So, it’s like … solitary confinement?”

  Caleb says, “That’s an interesting but valid way to see it.”

  I think about this. “Jonah and Kellan will be in the same room, sequestered together?”

  “Is that what he told you?” Karl says, surprised. “Because if that’s the case, it’s a lousy idea.” Caleb agrees wholeheartedly.

  “Jonah says his dad told him that’s how it would be.”

  Karl laughs under his breath. “Don’t be surprised if they both come back with black eyes.”

  So not what I was expecting. “Why?”

  “Two Emotionals, already powerful, coming into full power in the same room? It’s going to be a fricking tidal wave of strong feelings. Everything will be exacerbated. All this stuff going on between them? Ka-boom!”

  “Oh, to be a fly on that wall,” Caleb murmurs, shaking his head.

  I stand up, startled, but Karl reaches across the table and motions me to sit back down. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “But—”

  “But what? You gonna storm Karnach, insist on playing referee? Please. Now, let’s get back to work. Make me a diamond. I have a lot of kissing up to do to my wife lately.”

  I sigh, but do as he asks.

  Karl is a slave-driver for the next two days, forcing me over and over to hone my craft. We work in the backyard, in the woods, at the beach, in downtown … even in the parking lot of the high school. I build and destroy, over and over again, while philosophizing with him about the morality behind my creations. We talk about right and wrong, and why the Council sometimes decides what they do.

  “All the worlds have to be balanced,” he says as I shiver on the beach, having built and destroyed a mini-coral reef half a mile off shore. “Thus the reason for so many of the dual edges in our crafts. Bettering civilizations is a good thing, but sometimes they have to be struck down in order to advance. Does that make sense?”

  I sink down to sit in the sand. “Like a fire in a forest.”

  He sits down next to me. “Exactly. Sometimes fire is what a forest needs in order to clear out the old so the new can spring
forth.”

  “How many earthquakes have you caused?”

  A sort of uneasiness settles over him. “More than you’d like to know.”

  I ask, as gently as I can, “Has anyone ever died because of one of your quakes?”

  He flinches, just a little. “Sure.”

  “I may be asked to do something like that, and it scares the crap out of me, Karl.”

  “I know,” he sighs. “And it always will.”

  “How do you deal with it? What you’ve done?”

  Karl stares out at the water for a long moment. “I try to remind myself that I’m not doing it because I enjoy devastation and death. I do it because it’s necessary, and that sometimes, good can come from it, too.” He clears his throat. “Ecologically, you know?”

  “Do you ever wish you were another craft?”

  There’s no hesitation. “No. This is what I am. This is what I’m capable of.” He holds his hand out and makes a fist. “And, honestly, I’d rather it be me than some sick freak who gets a kick out of it. Does that make sense?”

  The funny thing is I’m starting to think it does.

  Jonah comes home three days after his birthday. I’m not sure what I expected to see, or how he might have changed, but tired wouldn’t have been at the top of my list. He has dark circles under his eyes—thankfully due to exhaustion and not his brother’s fists—and messy hair that tells me he’s been overly preoccupied.

  I try to pump him for information, but as Karl warned, there’s very little Jonah can tell me other than a) it didn’t hurt (an irrational fear I’ve developed), and b) you don’t notice the time it takes to recover.

  “Do you feel differently?” I ask, smoothing his hair down as we snuggle in a large chair in my living room.

  “Yeah,” he admits. “I didn’t think I would, but I do.”

  “Different bad, or different good?”

  He thinks about this. “Different complete. It’s like … a balloon, I guess. When air is added, it becomes something more. But, other than air, the composition is the same.”

  “Do your powers feel different?”

  He flexes his fingers. “Yeah. Clearer. Stronger.”