“Maybe try to concentrate on your heat and use that to fuel the light,” he suggested.
“That’s it?” I asked, staring back at him.
“I can’t tell you anything more specific than just concentrate, Alina. Just try it.” He sounded encouraging, but clueless.
I sighed. I had no idea how to go about doing this, and Peter wasn’t being a lot of help here. “Here goes,” I mumbled.
I closed my eyes again. I thought about my glow; about the heat part of it this time. The heat wasn’t something I thought about often. It was always just ‘there’. We were born with it. It wasn’t something you could see -that was where the light came in- but the heat was our real life source. It was why my body temperature ran higher than humans.
When I was ten I’d gotten curious about exactly how much warmer I really was, compared to humans. I’d taken my temperature with the school nurse’s thermometer, when she wasn’t looking. It had read 120 degrees, Fahrenheit. I’d asked the nurse, nonchalantly, what a normal body temperature was. When I found out, I clammed up and got out of there as fast as I could.
That’s why it surprised me, how much I enjoyed living in Arizona. I’d assumed the added heat would scorch me, but it wasn’t uncomfortable; just the opposite. It felt soothing to have the sun’s warmth on my skin, although I’m sure to a human’s touch it would feel like I had a fatal fever. That’s the main reason we didn’t live somewhere cold. If a human accidentally came in contact with our skin in a cold climate, it would raise a lot more attention than in a hot one. The main thing about the heat, though, was that, unlike the glow, there was no turning it off. Not unless you were dead.
Eyes closed, I concentrated on my heat. The stale air of the dirt packed room buzzed with brightness. Even through my closed lids I noticed the glare from the bright light. I pushed harder. The effort was physical now; I felt like I was pushing against a brick wall. I could feel my shoulders sagging, and I was panting. I wasn't sure how much harder I could push. Suddenly, like a rubber band, it snapped back to normal and my entire body sagged with the energy it had dispelled.
“That was great.” Peter was practically hopping up and down, as he scribbled furiously into his journal. “Can you try it again?”
I held up a finger to signal it would be a minute. Then, I put my hands on my knees and sucked in deep breaths.
∞
I practiced this way for two hours. I couldn’t get past brightening my light by several degrees. After that, it snapped back to normal, leaving me breathless and drained. By the end of the morning I was frustrated and ready to give up but Peter insisted I keep trying. His infinite patience only frustrated me more.
I asked him why I should even keep trying with this - he had said himself very few others in our history had been capable of this particular ability - and there was no proof it was a hereditary talent. And, even if I did learn how; what was the point? It seemed like one of those useless skills you learn in school and then never use. It’s not like I was around anyone else like me, besides Peter. Nonetheless, Peter wasn’t deterred by my lack of progress or my deteriorating attitude. After lunch we went back underground and kept at it throughout the afternoon.
By the time we stopped for dinner, it was still the same; my light would grow brighter and then snap back. We hadn’t had a day of P.E. like this since I was ten. Back then I was still learning how to control my light around humans.
“We can stop for today. We’ll try again tomorrow.” Peter started to gather up all of his books and notes.
“Tomorrow?” I groaned. “I don’t know if I can do this. Maybe I just don’t have that kind of power.”
“Alina, I told you, if it was easy, everyone could do it. You’ll have to practice more before we can rule it out. Besides, your light goes brighter every time you push it. That’s progress.”
“But what’s the point?” I asked, as I followed him up the stairs to the backyard. “Even if I can do what my mother could, how is it useful?”
We’d reached ground level. Peter turned to face me and I could see the answer in his eyes. Hope.
“Maybe someday we’ll be able to go home,” he said quietly.
I felt instantly guilty for bringing it up.
“If that happens,” he continued, “you need to be ready to take your place. You need to discover any advantages you have, now, so you can be ready to lead.”
I’d heard this speech before, but it didn’t light me up with hope, the way it did Peter. All I knew of these people, my people, were stories. Peter had memories, experiences, and a life with them. They were just a possibility to me. I knew what awaited me if we ever found our way back; the responsibility, the power, the expectations of being the surviving daughter to the Emperor and Empress of the planet Gliese. I didn’t dislike the idea; I just didn’t feel the same hope Peter did, for it to become a reality. Though, the idea of being around a group of people, friends even, that I could be myself with, that kept me up some nights, hoping.
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Descended by Blood
By
Angeline Kace
~1~
Predator vs. Predator
My sneakers crunched against dead leaves, smashing twigs and gravel into the moist soil. Rain pelted these hills earlier today and whiffs of moss, decaying trees, and other earthly aromas filled my nose.
My best friend, Kaitlynn, would be meeting me here soon for a hike through one of the Blue Ridge Parkway’s vibrant trails. The beginnings of fall had started appearing around Buena Vista, Virginia, and my favorite feature about this little settlement lay in the transformation of its trees. The colors splashed the canvas of this town with more brilliance than I had ever witnessed anywhere else. And I’d witnessed many places.
I’d lived in seven different states since the first grade. My mom always thought a better job was around the corner—“I promise this place will be better, Brooke, trust me”—but I often felt she was restless. She finally gave in to my Uncle Garwin’s requests that we move closer to him, the only remaining family we had left. I’m glad she did because she’s been able to stay here, in tiny Buena Vista, for two years, earning me the luxury of beholding another season of plant life dying gracefully.
My Mazda chirped when I triggered the alarm. I pulled my long, dark hair up into a tight ponytail, and heard the grind and chomping of tires against the rocks leading up to the trail. Kaitlynn swung her yellow Jeep into the parking spot right next to mine.
“Ready to get our Steve Irwin on?” Kaitlynn asked, bouncing over to me.
I laughed. “We’re not wrestling any crocodiles. We’re only strolling through the forest to look at the pretty leaves.”
“Let’s call it the jungle. It sounds cooler if we act like we’re about to do something incredibly dangerous. Crikey!” she yelled in a bad Australian accent.
It had become our Sunday routine to come up here for a hike before the chilled air grew too biting. Buena Vista had started to get bitter in the mornings and evenings, and the fog began rolling in before the sun rose. Even the rainstorms had been materializing more frequently, hence the moisture left beaded on the tops of leaves today.
I steered Kaitlynn onto my favorite trailhead. I preferred this trail to those closer to town as fewer hikers bothered to venture this far. Plants weren’t trampled, and you could still spot squirrels and the occasional deer close by.
“So, guess what?” I asked Kaitlynn, holding in my excitement. It tingled along my arms, and I thought it would seep out through my pores. “We’re going out.”
“Oh, no way? You finally asked him?” Kaitlynn stared at me in surprise.
“Well, not exactly. Jaren messaged me on Facebook last night and asked me. But the point is, we’re going out on Tuesday!”
I’d crushed on Jaren since my mom and I moved here. Even after two years, my breath still caught in my throat whenever our eyes met.
Jaren and his ex-girlfriend had broken up over the summer, and Kaitlynn kept prodding me to ask him out before someone else took him off the market again. I feared the rejection, and asking him out for real seemed like such a huge step beyond my flirting with him in class.
“So, you have to tell me how he asked you out.” Kaitlynn relished the details.
“Well, he just started chatting with me, and I told him how I was excited to see the meteor shower on Tuesday. He asked me about it, and then hinted at which lucky guy was taking me up to watch it.”
“Nuh-uh?” Kaitlynn laughed. “He’s such a brown-noser. But it’s cute because he said it to you. Continue,” she said, waving her hand.
We rounded a hill, following the trail through a field of trees. “I know! I laughed, too, when he asked ‘which lucky guy’ was taking me. But when I told him I didn’t have anyone that I was going with…,” I gave her a pointed look. She’d gone with me on the past two, so I gave her a pass on this one. I knew she appreciated the reprieve from sitting out in the cold watching rocks fly incredibly far away at who knows what speeds across the sky. “He asked me if he could take me.”
“See! I told you he wanted you.”
My cheeks heated. “I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe he just wants to see how big of a fool I can make of myself.”
A twig snapped, and I jerked my head to the right. I caught the glint from the eyes of a mountain lion creeping toward us, his ears pulled back, teeth bared.
I froze, hoping we weren’t the prey he stalked.
Kaitlynn shrieked. She grabbed my arm and tried pulling me with her as she ran back to the cars.
The lion rose from his crouch and started charging down the mountain straight for us.
We didn’t have enough time for both of us to make it out of there alive, and the lion sped up at the site of Kaitlynn running away.
I planted my feet. Something clicked inside of me; heat coursed through my veins. My vision intensified, and I could distinguish the areas of down between the lion’s coarse fur as his muscles flexed and stretched.
I’d heard before that you shouldn’t look a wild animal directly in its eyes, but my instinct screamed for me to not turn my back on my attacker. I listened to my gut and looked the mountain lion square into his charging eyes.
The lion and I connected on an intellectual level: predator versus predator. Only I knew, and I deemed the lion knew, as well, that I outranked him as the more fearsome predator. How I recognized this, or how I knew the lion realized this, I couldn’t fathom. I had never been hunting before, so this instinct didn’t come from a belief that man ruled supreme on the food chain. And this moment felt different somehow. It wasn’t man versus beast; it was beast versus beast.
“Stop!” I commanded.
The lion skidded to a halt four feet in front of me, his back fixed in its pre-lunge arch. He stared into my eyes, his ears perked back, fangs exposed in a snarl and hackles raised, but he didn’t move a centimeter closer.
I towered over him. My pulse pounded at the sides of my neck; my shoulders rose and fell with my deep breaths. My gaze pierced him, welding his toes and the pads of his feet into the ground. Somehow, I had been able to force my command over him, and when I told him to stop, I never considered that he would deny my order.
The nerves along my scalp tingled with the sensation that the lion hungered to attack me, but he couldn’t. The only thing holding him back from pouncing me was my decree that he shouldn’t. My beast had prevailed as the most dominant between us.
Panic filled my lungs at the realization that something stirred within me and it caused me to look at myself as a beast. I yearned for the retreat that Kaitlynn had made. I yelled, “Leave!” before the lion could translate my hesitance and continue his attack.
He hissed, spun around, and ran up the side of the hill, tail flogging behind him. I studied his movements, hoping that he wouldn’t change his mind and come back.
Kaitlynn rushed up behind me. “Brooke, let’s go!” she pleaded, voice shaking.
I stood there, to make absolutely sure. We had some distance to run before we’d get back to our vehicles, and I wasn’t going to take any chances on being stuck in that lion’s jaws.
The creature was almost out of the small clearing and about to enter into the thick forest when a man stepped out from between two spruce trees. Like a housecat, the lion rubbed his fawn pelt against the man’s leg and purred. My hypersensitive hearing digested the happy rumble cascading down the hill. Over the purring, I heard the trill of crickets and further out, the crunch of leaves underneath small feet. How was that possible?
The man loomed, barely outside the shadows, in a dark trench coat, smiling. His malignant stare reached my eyes, and his smirk grew by spades.
Kaitlynn yanked on my sleeve. “Brooke, please,” she begged, “can we get out of here? Now?”
I remained, eyes locked on this man who I was sure had sent that mountain lion to attack us. The way he pulled the corner of his lip up in a sneer suggested that he found pleasure in the way things ended with the lion. And it wasn’t because we were safe; it had to do with something else about the situation. But I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Come on!” Kaitlynn released me. “It’s gone. I’m leaving.” Her sneakers thumped along the trail away from me, jerking me out of my trance. I watched her go, and then looked back to the man and the lion just as they turned into the shadow of the treeline. His long jacket snapped with his movement as they disappeared from view.
I trembled, recalling the leer on his face. Nothing about this situation made sense. My blood began to cool, and I spun around to follow after Kaitlynn.
“Kaitlynn! Wait.” I reached her quickly.
“Let’s just get out of here,” she said, refusing to slow down.
“That guy sent the mountain lion after us.”
“What guy?” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“You didn’t see that guy at the top of the hill? Standing by the trees? The lion stroked up against his leg like a domesticated cat.”
“I didn’t see any guy. As soon as that mountain lion showed up, I was out of there,” Kaitlynn said, picking up speed. “It could explain why there was a mountain lion in Virginia, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t have mountain lions in Virginia. It must have been his pet or something. Maybe he called it back, and that’s why it ran off.”
“No,” I said, puzzled, “it was a wild mountain lion. It was definitely feral, and he sent it after us. But why?”
Kaitlynn laughed nervously. “Yeah, that sure explains why a wild cat stopped midattack. My explanation makes more sense.”
When the cars were in sight, Kaitlynn slowed and came toward me with her arms out for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ll call you later tonight.” She turned toward her Jeep.
“Me, too. Talk to you later.”
As Kaitlynn pulled away, rocks and debris flew up from the tires.
I sat down in the driver’s seat of my car, but before I closed the door, I heard a guttural growl from the distance. I suspected it was the mountain lion.
A shiver ran up my spine, causing my shoulders to spasm and my head to jerk. I escaped as fast as my old Mazda’s four-cylinder engine could carry me.
*
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About the Author
Heather Hildenbrand was born and raised in a small town in northern Virginia where she was homeschooled through high school. She now lives in coastal VA, a few miles from the Atlantic Ocean, with her military husband and two adorable children. She works from home, part time, as a property manager and when she's not furiously pounding at the keyboard, or staring off into space whilst plotting a new story, she's helping her husband with DIY projects in their home (he woodworks - she paints) or she's lying on the beach, soaking in those delicious, pre-cancerous rays.
Heather loves Mexican food, hates
socks with sandals, and if her house was on fire, the one thing she'd grab is her DVR player.
You can find out more about her and her books at www.heatherhildenbrand.blogspot.com
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