Alawahea

by Sara L Daigle

  “Hi Tamara!” Mellis’s cheerful voice always lifted her spirits, no matter how stressed or sad she was. “We were thinking about grabbing dinner somewhere in town tonight. You want to join us?”

  “Who’s going?”

  “Greg, me, Alari, probably. Justy’s found himself a woman to seduce, so I think he’ll be going out with her. Merran’s got late appointments, so he’s not going to make it, either.”

  “Well, sure. Sounds like fun. Where are you meeting?”

  “Greg’s room. We still have to decide where we’re going. That could take hours.”

  Tamara laughed. She’d spent enough time around the Azellians to know they didn’t make speedy decisions. “Well, Justy’s not going to be there so it might take less time than that.”

  Mellis snorted. “Yeah, well, Justy isn’t the only one who argues for the fun of it. But I have to admit Alari is less stubborn when Justy isn’t around pushing his buttons.”

  “He always seems pretty reasonable to me.”

  Mellis laughed. “He hasn’t shown you that side of himself yet then. See you in a few?”

  “I’m on my way.” Tamara hung up the phone and headed for Greg’s room, feeling a little thrill that they wanted to include her. She’d never felt such a strong, almost immediate, connection with anyone before. It usually took her forever to get to know people and to make friends. Not so this time and it was a pleasant change.

  The hot summer breeze hummed slightly with the background noise of traffic as she walked across campus; she jumped when a car horn blared as someone did something another driver didn’t like. Shaking her head, she ducked under the shade of some trees to cool off from the fiercely shining sun. Tamara lifted her jacket off her shoulders, and she shrugged a little to get some air flow down the middle of her back before she pulled open the door to the dorm. She tucked her tablet tightly under her arm and shifted her purse as she climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.

  The fifth floor seemed quiet, but when she turned the corner, several students stood in front of an open door talking about the latest seminar. She walked past them and gave a quick smile to the group as she knocked on Greg’s door.

  “Come in,” he called, after a few moments of silence, the lock on the door clicking. She pushed the door open. All thoughts of the other students fell away as she walked in and the door thumped closed behind her. Greg lay sprawled on the bed, looking rumpled and sleepy, the sheets tangled around his waist. Tamara couldn’t help noticing the smoothness of his bare, muscular chest, which was quite well defined.

  She halted in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry, did I wake you up? Mel told me to meet her and Alari here…”

  Greg sat up. He ran a hand through his hair and made the short blond strands stick straight up. “No, it’s all right. Mel called me, too, and I was going to get up, but I must have fallen back to sleep. I was just taking a nap.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m so glad it’s Friday and regular classes start next week. These past two weeks of constant events have been brutal.”

  Tamara sat on the edge of Greg’s desk. “It’s designed to increase the first-years’ sense of being a class. Put them through hell together. It also keeps them from getting homesick.”

  “Well, it’s certainly been doing something,” Greg agreed, sliding his legs out from under the blankets. Tamara blushed at the glimpse of skin. Had he really been taking a nap in the nude? As he got to his feet and flashed her, she whirled, feeling the heat burning up her cheeks. Yep, he had. “I’ve gotten to know quite a few people, although not as many as … you okay?” he asked.

  “Just waiting for you to get dressed,” Tamara said, keeping her back to him.

  “Humans are really that disturbed by nudity? You can turn around now. I’ve got clothes on.”

  Tamara turned to face him, still feeling the heat in her cheeks. He wore a pair of shorts, but she could still remember that glimpse of his naked body. She blushed harder as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. He might not be interested in her sexually because of his preferences, but he was very definitely male, and an attractive male at that. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Well, it’s not like I get to see people run around nude all the time.”

  Greg grinned, apparently finding her discomfort amusing. “You should spend time at the oasis in the summer then. Nudity is the norm.” He leaned over, tugging the blankets up to make the bed.

  Tamara cleared her throat. I’ll be avoiding Azellian beaches, she told herself.

  Alarin opened the door a few seconds later and strode in. “Hey guys—” He halted and peered at Tamara. “Are you feeling okay? You look like you just swallowed a lightbulb. A red one. What happened?”

  The blush, which had felt as though it might be subsiding, returned with a vengeance.

  “I’m fine,” she said, tossing her head. Although she had mostly gotten to a point over the past two weeks where she wasn’t intimidated by Alarin as much as she had been initially, in this oddly sensitized state, she was also very aware of Alarin’s lean body, although he, at least, was decently clothed. Several images, somewhat graphic—or pornographic even—raced across her mind. She hastily suppressed the images, but not before sweat broke out across her entire body. She could feel a trickle slide down her neck and side.

  Greg gave her a slight smile, his amber eyes bright. He put the final touches on his bed and then sat on it. “Did you walk in with any idea of where we want to go tonight?” he asked Alarin.

  Alarin turned to Greg, releasing Tamara from the intensity of his full attention. “Nope,” he replied. He pulled out the desk chair and straddled it, resting his arms against the chair’s back. He flexed his forearms, bracing himself against the chair. Tamara swallowed as a rush of sensation skittered up her spine. “I thought Tamara here might have some ideas. As a native of Denver, that is.”

  “Well, there are several—” she began, only to have Mellis interrupt when she came in.

  “Hi guys. Do we know where we’re going yet?” she asked, going over to Greg and joining him on the bed.

  “We’re asking Tamara for some good hotspots,” Alarin said.

  Greg rested his hand on Mellis’s leg. Tamara had another uncomfortably graphic flash. She shook her head, trying to clear it. What was wrong with her? None of this was any different than it ever was—Greg was always somewhat touchy-feely with his friends. Why was it suddenly triggering a cascade of sexual images every time any of them moved?

  Dizziness assailed her, and she swayed a little on her feet. “I don’t know what you want to do,” she said, bracing herself surreptitiously against the top of the desk. She hoped she didn’t look as odd as she was feeling. “If you want to go to a club, or a dance hall, I can’t go. I’m not old enough yet. There are some good ones not far from campus, though.”

  No one seemed to notice anything. I must not be acting oddly, she thought as she listened to them discuss food options not far from campus. As they talked, she was able to ignore the flashes of sexual images, and eventually they faded away.

  Greg’s laptop abruptly launched itself off the desk.

  Using his telekinesis, Alarin grabbed it out of the air just as the tin of pens followed it. He ducked and Greg caught the pens. One of the pens shot out of the tin and danced its way toward Tamara, where it hovered at her eye level. “Uh, what’s this?” she asked, staring at the hovering pen. It bobbed cheerfully in front of her.

  “You’ve got an aura,” Mellis observed.

  “She sure does,” Greg said. He got to his feet, placed the tin on the desk, and approached her. His hands hovered in the air just above her skin. “Do you feel that?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” It was actually rather pleasant, tingling through her entire body. This was different from the game Merran had shown her a week ago but not entirely unlike it. “Are you doing aura sparking?”

  “No, I’m simply scanning you. I’m not even Healing you. Right now there’s nothing to heal. Who taught you about aura sparking?” Greg
asked, lowering his hands.

  “Merran. When I returned his suit jacket to him last Saturday. He told me to ask you more about it.”

  “Did he?” Greg glanced at Alarin, who shrugged. “Well, it’s a game children play as they’re Awakening. It’s designed to get them comfortable with themselves and their bodies and the new sensations that come with psi as it becomes active. After this little display, I have little doubt that you’ve got psi talent, probably very similar psi talent to ours.” He tapped the hovering pen. “This isn’t any of us.”

  Tamara stared at him. “I’m doing that?”

  “Yes, unless Mel is doing it for a joke.”

  Mellis shook her head. “No. It’s not me.”

  “It’s not me, either,” Alarin replied.

  “Then you’re having an episode and it’s you, Tamara. The presence of your aura leads me to believe that’s the case.” He pulled the pen out of the air.

  “It couldn’t be poltergeists?”

  “Polter-whats?”

  “Ghosts. Beings without a physical form that throw things around?”

  She meant it as a joke, but Greg took her seriously. “I suppose it could be, but I’m not sensing anything else in the room with us right now. You getting anything, Mel, Alari?”

  The other two shook their heads.

  Tamara made a face. “Never mind. It was meant as a joke. Are you sure that I’m doing it?” Her head pounded, threatening the migraine that always followed one of her weird moments.

  “What did your scan show?” Alarin asked Greg.

  Greg shrugged. “About what I would expect. Not much. But then there usually isn’t much to see, at least not until the energies are ready to completely break through. She’s definitely going through something, though, and the symptoms are very much like our Awakening.”

  “If she’s Awakening like we would, would it help to have her play aura games?” Alarin asked.

  “Sure,” Greg replied, returning to sit on his bed. “But she’s going to need another partner. I’m not going to play them with her.”

  Tamara swallowed and spoke up, curiosity getting the better of her. “Why not?”

  “Because aura sparking is often used for foreplay,” Mellis replied, “and right now, he has no one to turn to for help with the energy release if the two of you spark each other’s auras and it goes too far. I’d help him, but he refuses to have sex with a woman.”

  Greg patted her arm. “Yes, well, it has nothing to do with you, Mel, love.”

  Mellis grinned at him. “I know. We tried it once and didn’t like it so much. I didn’t take it personally.”

  Greg snorted. “That’s good. Nice to know I didn’t scar you for life.”

  Mellis laughed. “Yes, well, it wasn’t the women that turned you on when we were at the beach. It was pretty obvious right from the beginning.” She looked up at Tamara. “I’ll play, if you like.”

  “Uh,” Tamara said, not sure how to react to the offer. Is Mellis offering what it sounds like she’s offering?

  Alarin grinned at her, a mischievous look she’d never seen on his face before. “Our friend Charina has nothing but great things to say about her abilities.”

  Tamara blushed, feeling the heat crawl up her cheeks. “Uh,” she repeated.

  “Aura sparking doesn’t have to become foreplay,” Mellis protested. “Besides, I have plenty of places to go to let off steam, if you don’t want to have sex with me.”

  Tamara blinked at her. “I, uh, I—I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say thank you,” Alarin said, his green eyes sparking with mischief. “I certainly would.”

  “Oh, you think you’re the one I’d turn to? Think again, Alari.” Mellis made a face at him.

  Alarin leaned back, his grin undimmed by her response. “Who else is there? Justy’s got his hands full for the moment and Merran’s busy. You high with aura sparking … sounds like fun.”

  “There are plenty of humans,” Mellis said, wrinkling her nose at him. “A whole city full.”

  Alarin laughed. “Well, there certainly are. Of course, if you’d prefer a non-psi human to me, well, then, it’s your loss.”

  “It’s no loss,” Mellis shot back.

  “Oh really? That’s not what I remember you saying before we left Azelle.”

  “Well, you’re the one who decided that being celibate was preferable to being chased by your fiancée,” Mellis retorted.

  “I thought you just said it was no loss that you’d choose someone else over me?” Alarin leaned forward, his grin widening. “Getting lost in your logic, love?”

  “Oh, just shut up,” Mellis grumped.

  Tamara opened her mouth, then closed it, completely out of her depth. Her head throbbed.

  “Oh, quit it, guys. I’m hungry,” Greg said, interrupting. “Now, I’m thinking we should just order in, if Tamara’s going through an episode. It will be easier if she starts throwing things around again, and after, when the migraine sets in, we won’t have to carry her as far to her room. Anybody up for pizza?”

  “Pizza sounds good,” Alarin agreed, dropping the argument with Mellis and turning to Greg. “I think it’s becoming my favorite food.”

  “Sounds good to me too,” Mellis said as Tamara winced, trying to ignore the steadily increasing throb of her head. “Hawaiian, please. I love the combination of pineapple and ham.”

  “What about you?” Greg asked Alarin.

  “Pepperoni sounds good, but I can go with vegetarian.”

  “Tamara?” Greg asked, as Tamara closed her eyes.

  She opened them again. “I don’t feel so hot,” she admitted, sudden waves of nausea rolling through her in time to the piercing pain that stabbed at the back of her head.

  “The migraine is starting,” Alarin said as Greg got to his feet and came over to her. “She really is acting like an Azellian going through Awakening, isn’t she?”

  Greg lightly placed his hands on Tamara’s arm, and she could feel the waves of warmth rush through her, chasing away the nausea. The piercing pain continued. “She is. Come on, lie down Tamara. You’ll feel better.” He guided her to his bed, encouraging her to lie down on it. A fleeting image of him lying naked in the bed raced across her mind, but the pain chased it away almost immediately. “I’m going to treat her like I would an Awakening Azellian,” she heard him say as she lay down on the bed. Her head was spinning. “For lack of anything else. Maybe aura games would help. You willing to play them with her, Alari?”

  “Not a great idea, Greg. You know the situation with Ida. I can’t open that door. Not right now.”

  Greg’s breath puffed against her cheek as he smoothed a hand over her forehead. “I guess Merran gets to finish what he started then,” she thought she heard him say.

  “He’s going to love that,” Alarin said, but she was too far out of it to tell if he was being sarcastic or straightforward. “At least he’s got outlets.”

  Outlets for what? she wondered briefly, only to have the thought scattered by the waves of soothing warmth that spilled across her body and mind. The spinning increased, but the pain faded as he stroked her hair and she found herself slipping away, the voices merging and disappearing into nothingness.

  Hours later, she woke up, confused and disoriented. The room was bright with morning light, but it wasn’t the eastern sun that spilled in the windows as it did in her room. Instead, the light was indirect. The window shades angled upwards to catch the light but prevented anyone from seeing in. She blinked, sitting up as her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d missed dinner.

  A pile of blankets lay on the floor, forming a mound that didn’t reveal a person but was certainly big enough to cover someone. Pushing her tangled hair out of her face, she frowned. I’m in Greg’s room, aren’t I? That’s got to be him. There really is nowhere else for him to be sleeping but that pile.

  She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her shirt and shorts poking uncomfortably into her ski
n. As she moved, the pile stirred, making something resembling a groaning noise. “Greg?” she asked uncertainly.

  A head poked out of the blankets, the tousled blond hair familiar, his eyes almost gold in the early morning light. “Awake?” he asked with a scratchy voice. He sat up, pulling the blankets with him. He’d made himself a cocoon, she noticed. No pillow, just a pile of blankets.

  She nodded.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “I feel fine.” She looked at the floor. “Sorry I chased you out of your bed.”

  “No worries,” he replied. “You were sleeping so peacefully we decided not to move you.”

  She half remembered a discussion about that somewhere during the confused dreams she’d had most of the night, most of them heavily erotic. She flushed and chose not to mention her recollections. She swallowed and pushed her hair out of her face. “What happened?”

  “You had another episode. Telekinetic one this time. Do you remember it?”

  She nodded. “I remember your computer flying off your desk and the pens …” She looked at the tin of pens, now innocuously sitting on his desk this morning. “Then pain.”

  “The migraine,” Greg pulled the blankets around himself and got to his feet, keeping them tightly tucked as he moved to sit on the desk chair. She flushed slightly, remembering how she’d woken him up the day before. He was probably naked again. Grateful that he was obviously respecting her discomfort by staying wrapped in the blankets, she didn’t ask.

  “The migraine.” She rubbed her temple. “I remember you saying something about me Awakening like an Azellian would?”

  Greg settled himself on the chair. The blanket toga he wore was a little too bulky to be comfortable, but he managed. “It certainly appears that you are. And I really don’t know what else to do for you except treat you like an Awakening Azellian.”

  She swallowed, her throat dry. “I talked to Merran last Saturday,” she said slowly as several things clicked into place in her subconscious, bringing a wash of awareness with them. “He told me a bit about Azellian history.”

  “I’m glad he did. What did he say specifically?”