She closed her eyes. I feel ridiculous. Daith stood for a few moments, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. All she could hear was the hum of the ship and her own heartbeat. She opened one of her eyes and peeked at Dru.
“Concentrate,” he said.
Daith closed her eye and let out a long, slow breath. She placed her hands on the back of the chair and let her fingertips slide over its top. The wood beneath her hands felt curdled and knobby, the paint flaking away.
This makes no sense. How am I supposed to have a chair tell me things? It’s not going to say ‘Hey! Did you know I once lived in a house with six children? Once, while playing a game, the oldest knocked me over and broke one of my legs. They thought they could fix me with glue, until their father came home, sat on me, and broke me again!’
Though the story sounded silly, Daith could see the image in her mind—the children laughing, their horror at the broken leg, when they hid as their father bellowed after rebreaking it.
‘And of course’, she imagined the chair continued, ‘the huge fire where I got charred to a crisp. I was one of the lucky ones. The couch didn’t stand a chance. They tried to sand me and repaint me, but can you believe what color they picked? It’s hideous.’
Daith could taste the acidic smoke of a fire and smell the scent of fresh paint drying.
Startled, she opened her eyes and knew she had witnessed the chair’s history.
“But how?” she gasped, after telling Dru what had happened. “I mean, the chair didn’t actually say anything. But I could see and smell what had happened.”
“Every object emits energy,” Dru explained. “You felt the life energies connected to the chair. The energies left a mark and you were able to, in a sense, relive those marks. Think of them as energy fingerprints.”
Daith’s body vibrated with excitement.
“Are you okay?” Dru asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s a lot to take in at once. I just had a conversation with a chair.” She paused. “Do you think I knew about these abilities before my memory loss?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. The type of skill level you’ve displayed is quite high.”
“Do you think I had better control over them? Or greater abilities?”
“I suppose it would have depended on how much training you’d received and how hard you’d practiced.”
“I want to work on these abilities more, then. Really find out what I can do.” Her tone bubbled with eagerness.
Dru hesitated. “Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just—incredible. Such a rush.”
“It can lead to a lot of power,” he said.
“Power?”
“The tests we’ve done so far have been passive. If you continue on with training, you will be able to test for active powers also.”
“What’s the difference?”
Dru indicated she should move to the next piece—a warped reflector unit. “Passive powers are the willing exchange of energy while active powers require a forced change. For example, our test of sending words was passive—you sent me an image and I received it. An active way would have been for me to pull a thought from your head without your consent or for you to implant a thought in mine. You could dig through someone else’s memories or thoughts without their knowledge, learn their secrets, or manipulate them into doing anything you want.”
Daith shivered. “Sounds like mind control.”
“In some cases, it is. But what if it’s to force a hysterical being to calm down or retrieve the dying wishes of someone who is in too much pain to speak?”
“I see what you mean. I suppose it comes down to how someone uses that power.” Daith paused. “Will I be able to do those things?”
“I don’t know.” Dru averted his gaze. “We can test your active powers later on, if you want.”
Daith caught her reflection in the reflector unit. “I want to.”
“What if you found out you could do those things? Would you?”
“Why not? I could use those gifts to help others.”
Dru didn’t respond.
“Right?” Daith asked, feeling less sure.
“How would you know you were helping?” he asked, slowly. “Say you retrieve a dying man’s wishes from his mind and tell his family. What would you do if they said that wasn’t what he told them he wanted? And how could you tell if his wishes were really what he wanted or if his thoughts had been altered due to the stress of dying or dementia?”
“I don’t know.”
Dru’s words came out rough. “Or what if you stopped a civil war by destroying all the weapons on the planet, but then an outside force comes and conquers the world because the civilians have no way to fight back?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Or what if you think you’re doing good, but others disagree and turn against you? Are they the ones you now need to fight against, or are they victims, too? Do you reverse what you did or stick to your path?”
Daith had never seen him this intense. “Where is this coming from?”
“What?”
“These examples seem specific. Have these things happened before?”
Dru didn’t respond right away. “Some of those who have power cannot accept responsibility for it. I’ve seen how wanting to help can get twisted. There is no line between right and wrong, only perspective.”
Daith sat, unsure of what to say. Dru seemed lost in his own thoughts. The two of them continued with her tests, and even though hours had passed, Dru hardly seemed to notice.
When they’d finished, Dru excused himself, saying they’d meet again in the morning. Daith watched him leave. Her stomach muscles pinched together, her eyes watered. She felt bleak, alone, unsettled.
So much sadness. Startled, she realized she wasn’t upset. He was.
She could feel Dru’s emotions.
*
Dru left the simulation room, lost in thought.
Why did I blurt out those questions? But he couldn’t help it. The similarities between Daith and her father were too parallel. And he couldn’t lead Daith down the same path.
But did he really trust himself with this responsibility? He hadn’t been able to save her father—what made him think he could save Daith?
If only Riel were here.
Except Riel was dead.
Dru stumbled in the corridor. He reached out to steady himself against the cool, metallic wall. It had been close to a year since her death, but the pain from the loss hit him fresh. He’d been ignoring his grief since he’d boarded the ship.
Entering his quarters, he sat on his bed, his forehead pressed against his hands.
Please. I don’t want to remember her right now. But the memories came anyway—moments like sharp lighting.
Eighteen years old, fresh out of school. Off of Sintaur, away from the war, and waiting to start his new job at PRIN, the Psychology Research Institution on Neoron, when Riel showed up. Short red hair, a halo of sunset to her sunshine-yellow skin. And her smile…
Flash forward two years. Dru remembered the vidlink call from Trey, his dark blue eyes flitting back and forth. I need your help, Brother...something is wrong with Jacin… I’ve read about your work at PRIN with Riel…you two are the only ones who can help….
A few weeks later, Dru and Riel aboard the Enforcer. They’d met with Jacin, but both agreed he might be too far along for help. They decided to try one last time…
Trey showed up instead, face eerily blank.
“Jacin’s dead. He killed himself.”
Dru and Riel sat, stunned. Riel reached over and took Dru’s hand—the touch a source of comfort. A stark contrast to the contempt on Trey’s face at their touch.
After they’d left, Dru tried to contact his brother, but with Jaxx’s death and the disintegration of the Aleet Army, the whole galaxy changed overnight.
And Trey would not respond.
Seven years later—married to Riel—in love�
��and then the worst moment of Dru’s life…
Riel ignored Dru while she picked out clothes for the trip. Dru never liked being without her.
“The convention will be boring anyway. I know you don’t want to go.” He’d given her the best ‘sad-eyes’ he could muster. She’d thrown a pillow at him, laughing, telling him his cheap tactics wouldn’t work.
“But Riel!” he gushed in a joking voice, “you can’t leave me here all alone!”
She had stopped. “You sound like your brother.”
Dru had been taken aback. When he asked what she meant, she said his brother had told her the same thing the night before Jaxx had committed suicide.
Dru was floored. He’d had no idea.
“Trey told me he’d fallen in love with me the moment he met me. When I told him I didn’t feel the same, he said I couldn’t leave him there all alone,” she said. “And then Jaxx’s death happened and you and I left the ship.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Riel shrugged. “It all happened so fast, I guess I forgot. We were only there a few days.”
Dru’s eyebrows rose. “You forgot? You reject my lonely brother, his idol commits suicide, he sees you and me together—and you brushed it off?”
“You think that’s why he hasn’t answered your contact requests?” Riel’s eyebrows contracted. “I suppose that could have been the case. He wasn’t exactly stable. It’s probably better you’ve been separated from him.”
“Of course he wasn’t stable. You know our family was torn apart piece by piece. Trey always had to do the fighting while I got to go to school and transfer off the planet. We could have reconnected on the mission with Jacin.”
Riel shoved the remaining pieces of clothes into her bag. “Really? Did you not see how unhinged your brother was? If he got that upset over something so trivial, then I did you a favor. He needs help, not you.”
Dru’s anger gushed over. “Leave.”
Riel swallowed, hard. She snapped her suitcase closed and stalked out of the room.
The next morning Dru received a telegram. Riel’s transport ship had malfunctioned while landing and crashed.
She was dead.
Just like that.
Six months later, he’d received a message from Trey. His message simply read “I heard about Riel. I will have a job offer for you soon.”
Dru raised his head and regarded his quarters on Trey’s ship. Nearly a year since Riel’s death and he still hadn’t forgiven himself. He didn’t think he ever could. He knew all the psychobabble texts told him her death wasn’t his fault and he needed to let it go, but how could he?
And now, Daith—the one woman he could give that second chance to. But what if she couldn’t handle the power?
What if she ended up like her father?
Chapter 19
Trey scrutinized his brother across the office desk. Bloodshot eyes, paled skin, unkempt dark hair—Dru was a mess.
“Are you all right?”
“Sure,” Dru said, rubbing his fingertips across his puffy eyelids. “No, yeah. I’m fine.”
Trey’s brow furrowed. “Fine, huh?”
“I guess so.”
“What’s the problem?”
Dru absentmindedly traced circles with his finger on the immaculate desk. Trey held his tongue at the streaked smudges left behind. He couldn’t have his brother fall apart. Not now.
“Dru?” Trey prompted.
“Sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s just…I’m worried about the direction of Daith’s sessions.”
Trey’s fingers spasmed under his desk. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I don’t think she’s taking things seriously enough. I’m concerned about her safety, about the rate at which we’re progressing, and…,” Dru paused. “And how much she sounds like her father.”
Trey’s hands relaxed. “It’s to be expected.”
“It makes me wonder if I’m actually helping her. Everything I’ve done so far has been in a controlled environment. It’s been too easy for her.”
“I agree.”
“You do?”
“I do.” Trey laced his hands behind his head, the stiff-backed chair preventing him from leaning backward. “I’ve been giving her tests a lot of thought. I knew Jacin better than most. He never had anyone to guide him—show him how the use of his powers could cause harm. I wonder if he had known, if he would have done things differently.” He swallowed. “If so, he might still be alive.”
Dru leaned forward, his head bobbing quickly. “Exactly! She could be headed down the same path.”
Trey pulled fragments from his last dream about Jacin—when he’d killed the rioter in the crowd without realizing he’d done it. “What you need to do, Brother, is create a situation causing emotional distress. It’s in this area Jacin would lose control. I assume his daughter would respond the same way.”
Dru’s eyes were open, but he didn’t see Trey anymore. “Yes, I thought that after our session yesterday.” He paused, letting out a sigh of resign. “I think I know what I need to do.”
*
Daith headed back to the simulation room to meet with Dru for her next session, hoping he would be more at ease this time. He’d seemed genuinely shaken at the comments she made about wanting to learn more about her abilities. But hadn’t he been the one to encourage her in the first place?
Dru’s erect stance when Daith entered the white room contrasted sharply with his drawn and pale face. With a quick wave, he gestured to three different objects on the floor: a rope, a metal bar, and a wooden board. Each item had been split lengthways into two parts.
“I can tell right now they are all broken,” Daith teased.
“I want to see if you can fix these objects with your mind,” he told her, his tone flat. “Our last session had you sensing inanimate objects’ energy. This test will determine if you can manipulate that energy.” He yawned and tapped something on his datapad. “It’s a boundary between passive and active powers: active because you are controlling the energy, but passive because these objects don’t have a will of their own. If you can do this, the results could help to reconstruct your own damaged memories.”
“No pressure, right?” Daith kidded. Dru’s mouth curved for a moment into a half-smile, but fell quickly. She gave up.
Focusing on the task instead, Daith took up the piece of rope and stared at the two frayed ends. Her eyes unfocused. Her mind wandered. She envisioned the fibers. Each part ragged and split where they’d been severed. Concentrating on the ends, she focused the heat inside her, winding the energy toward the tips of her fingers, and tried to meld the ends of one half to the other.
Nothing happened.
“I can’t do it,” she said.
“Uh-huh. Keep trying.” Dru didn’t even glance at her.
Daith’s jaw tightened at his lack of response. She tried a couple more times with the same results. Frustrated, she dropped the rope and picked up the metal rod. She focused on the rough edges where the two halves of metal split and tried to make them merge into one rod. She felt the same warmth flow through her and she concentrated on the metal, willing the two pieces to come together.
Still no luck.
Daith growled softly, wiping roughly at the sheen of perspiration on her forehead. She glanced over at Dru, but he was still tapping away on his datapad.
“Bored?” she asked.
His gaze remained on his notes. “No. Continue.”
Squeaks from her teeth grinding together reached her ears. She directed her aggravation toward the wooden board. She tried to mentally pull, twist, bend, burn, melt, tie, and connect the two splintered sides anyway she could. She focused all her energy into a tight beam, feeling the warmth surge through her body. The beam grew, welling up until it squeezed into a tight point aimed directly at the spot between the two boards.
The board remained split.
Daith dropped the broken board to the floor with
a thud.
“I can’t do it,” she repeated. Her body felt drained, her mouth dry.
“I wondered.”
Daith’s head pounded. “You wondered what?”
“I wondered how far your abilities stretched.” Dru typed in a few more things and raised his eye line to Daith, who was rubbing her temples. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Just a bit of a headache.”
He pursed his lips. “We should take you to see Doctor Ludd.”
“No, really, I’m fine,” she lied, her head pulsating. She dropped her hands to her sides.
Dru raised an eyebrow. “Let’s not work anymore today. Go back to your room, eat a big dinner, and then head to bed early. We have a full day tomorrow, and I want to make sure you’re up for it.” His attention returned to his notes.
Daith stared. Why the orders?
Dru looked up at her. “You can go now.”
Daith paused at the dismissal. “Fine,” she said, the word clipped. She stormed from the room. What is wrong with him? Is he still upset from yesterday? Or just disappointed I couldn’t fix those stupid things?
Daith dismissed that last thought. Dru couldn’t have been upset because he seemed to know she would fail. Though she didn’t know if him knowing infuriated her as much as the fact she had failed. She should have been able to fix those things. Dru had said her energy output outreached anyone else’s. So then why couldn’t she do this?
Daith returned to her room and flopped down on the bed, facing the gray ceiling. Letting out a sigh, she pressed her fingers to her temples to ease the pain. Why was she so irritable? Did she think she’d be perfect at everything? After all, Dru hadn’t said he expected her to fail, he only wondered what her limitations were. Maybe other patients of his had had problems in this area. Maybe everyone failed. Maybe telling her beforehand would have ruined the test.
Daith could think about “maybes” all night and not accomplish anything. It wouldn’t get her out of this foul mood. And staring at the ceiling wasn’t going to help.
Chapter 20
Eomix Galaxy Books: Illusion Page 13