Star Child: Places of Power

by Leonard Petracci

  Anthony descended the steps to be met by Lola the Transient, her soles absorbing the sound of the loose wood planks, and her figure catching little attention. Eyes tended to look through Lola – not just for her small stature, or her tendency to avoid social contact, but for the appearance of her skin as well. Those parts that were visible were slightly transparent, taking on the hue of the objects behind her, almost as if she were a chameleon.

  I’d been surprised to see Lola among the bottoms – with an immunity to the effects of a wide array of high power types, Transients typically floated towards positions at the top of society as surely as their wallets weighed them downwards. Their ability to walk unfazed through the hottest fires, or the coldest nights, or even a hurricane as if it were a cloudy day earned them their nickname as Ghosts, as energy simply passed through them. For the highest powered, it was as if they were not there at all.

  I remembered Lola’s aptitude test given by Instructor Linns, and how pain had flashed across her face when he held any flame larger than a lighter’s lowest setting under her outstretched hand. And even Linns found it difficult to hide his disappointment when he demonstrated that Transients with brighter shadows were the strongest, and Lola’s proved near indistinguishable from any of ours.

  But while Lola’s powers were ill suited towards any attacks of heavy substance, there was at least one material that they made her invulnerable against.

  Air. Or more suitably, wind.

  When Siri started the match, Lola walked forwards with steps timed as carefully as a metronome, her skin sliding into a more transparent state. She sank into the earth nearly to her ankles, or rather the dirt sank into her, as no footsteps followed behind. Anthony smiled from the other end of the arena, conjuring up his strongest blast of air, and following the same tactic that had won his match against Slugger – to blow her out of the ring.

  The torrent struck Lola head on, her clothes flapping while her hair remained perfectly still, and from my seat, I could see the majority of her clothes had been turned into mesh. Hundreds of tiny holes peppered the garments, letting the wind pass through with minimal effect. And at Anthony’s second but more powerful strike, her feet only paused for a half beat.

  “Gives me the creeps,” commented Lucio, watching as Lola reached Anthony. “That’s one reason I don’t want to visit the mountains, SC. Dozens of those ghosts crawling over the peaks, blending in with the mist. Hell, I heard a story once there’s entire villages up there you can’t even see, because they’re so powerful, you can’t interact with them. What’s worse, they can’t interact with you.”

  “Oi, what if they’re here right now, just watching us?” added Slugger from behind us.

  “Slugger, does your power give you the ability for making conversations heavy too?” snapped Lucio as he shivered. “And here we go, looks like that’s point one!”

  Lola reared back for a punch, and her hand was stopped well before the disbelieving Anthony by a guard's force field. But her fist slid through it, and the second guard raised his hand to generate another field, which slowed her fingers but stopped short of halting it. A third force field generated just in front of Anthony’s nose and stopped her short, though by this point her momentum, was so little, it would have just brushed against the tip.

  “Spoiled the fun; they should’ve let that one through. He deserves a black eye for the way he scrapped,” complained Slugger as the buzzer sounded.

  “That’d be much more than a black eye,” I answered, watching as Lola’s arm retracted. “We’re talking severe internal damage. I bet her knuckles would have passed through his nose as if it wasn’t there. Makes you wonder, Lucio, if one of your village people could punch straight through you to come out the other side.”

  Lucio shivered again before responding. “Doesn’t matter, SC, if they punch through me, they won’t interact with anything.”

  “Won’t interact much with anything,” I corrected as the match below continued. “But I bet you there's still enough force in that hit to scramble your insides like soup. Probably wouldn’t even feel anything. You’d just notice once your kidneys and liver put in their two weeks’ notice.”

  Chapter 70

  Anthony fell without scoring a single point – each time Lola approached, no amount of wind could sway her, and two weeks of learning martial arts with Instructor Cane had trained her well enough to avoid any of the clumsy punches he lobbed in her direction. Five minutes later, Anthony sat several rows ahead of us, several feet away from any of the other Bottoms and taking care to avoid looking at any of them. Refusing to admit that he now was one of them.

  The next few Bottom matches were close, but each time, the Bottoms prevailed. With the advantage of choosing their opponents, as well as the fitful night of sleep that dulled the Averages’ reaction times, their chances of winning were severely improved. Averages steadily trickled into the bleachers to join Anthony or take solidarity in other unoccupied regions, and the curse words soon became as ubiquitous as the hushed conversations in the stands.

  “Well, here I go, lads,” said Slugger when Siri called match five. “Don’t have too much fun without me, will ya? And SC, let me know when we’re ready to go.”

  “Will do. And, Slugger, no more than three hours a night, understood?”

  “Oi, I got you. Just hurry up, won’t ya? Half the appeal of being an Average is scoring a damn mattress. Shame I can't even take advantage of it.”

  Then Slugger descended, his match against Brianna beginning nearly as soon as he stepped in the arena. It was mercilessly quick, with none of the bravado of when he had faced Anthony. Picking up the same pylon, he defeated Brianna before she could approach close enough for contact, even tapping her ten feet upwards like a pop fly when she tried to jump him.

  He nodded to us as he made his way to the Average bleachers, while a dejected Brianna resumed her position as Bottom. Several more matches passed, the outcomes still favoring Bottoms, until every Bottom except Lucio and me had been replaced. Like Lucio’s match the week before, we had both let our opponents win, but had each scored two points and had chosen opponents from the upper end of the Average pool to make it believable.

  “I’d call that a success,” remarked Lucio as the Average versus Average matches began, “Are you sure it was a good idea to stay Bottoms, though?”

  “Positive,” I answered. “We need to cycle through as many students as possible, and it's much easier once everyone is in the same room. This way, we can control it. And, Lucio, save some energy for tonight. We’ll need one Upper as well.”

  “Not a good idea, SC. It’s going to get ugly.”

  “It’s necessary,” I said, turning to face him. “We need to create an outbreak, a viral infection. And the only way we can do that is if it’s at all levels.”

  “As long as I get the sleep you’re taking from Slugger, I’m in,” he answered. “Think you can get him to do my chores at night?”

  “Might as well,” I said, cracking a smile as I looked towards Slugger. “Something’s gotta keep him up!”

  We paid little attention to the remainder of the matches, Lucio and I taking turns napping between bouts, nudging each other if Siri’s stare turned our way. But she seemed too preoccupied to notice us – at the start of the matches, loud conversations had broken out among the Bottoms that Lucio had cleansed. And now, those Bottoms were among the Averages still under Siri’s control, expanding the disorder across two – thirds of the bleachers. Bleachers that just the week before had been silent with every match, just like they had been likely every year since Siri started her rehabilitation facilities.

  Her stare flickered back and forth between pockets of the outbursts, trying to track their origin so she could silence it with song. But with today being a tournament day, any song would affect the matches. And more importantly, if she used her power now, she might not find the source.

  “Stop, now, or be demoted to Bottom once more!” she nearly shouted when Sl
ugger and a few other fresh Averages broke into laughter. Her voice had an edge to it – not the hard edge of ice that was typical, but now something more shrill.

  Slugger rolled his eyes and turned back to the arena. But Siri’s expression froze when she saw that not only Slugger rolled his eyes, but also the students around him. Students who, only yesterday, would have been terrified to take an extra breath without her permission.

  “Let’s go already,” Anna had complained during a particularly long match, as Siri bristled.

  “Bullshit!” shouted another Average after a near tie was decided on a technicality.

  “Just stomp him, Wendy. Your feet are big enough!” jeered Slugger during the final Average to Upper match, and Wendy’s face turned bright red. A few rows over from where Connor sat, several racial insults geared particularly at the Irish were hurled back at him, while Siri took a seat behind the judges’ table. And now, the surprise of the initial outburst over, she watched the crowd carefully, trying to trace the origins backwards, a task nearly impossible after the dispersal of the Bottoms.

  And a task that would prove even more difficult the next day.

  Chapter 71

  “That’s it. If I do another, I’ll be spent. Let’s move on.” Lucio held his hand against the wall, his outline just distinguishable in the darkness and his breathing coming heavy. Around us, the fresh Bottoms slept, though they slept more fitfully than the batch the night before. The air was thick with increased groaning, while stirring, tossing, and turning occurred throughout the night. And with increased care, Lucio had entered the minds of each, removing the song from Siri and planting a fresh memory.

  The memory was unique to each individual, but each concerned Siri. In one, an image of Siri spitting in their food before dumping it into the trash, then sending the student to bed teary eyed and homesick. In another, mocking a student in front of the entire auditorium for the shape of his ears, until the rest of the students joined in laughing. Every time, the memory was personalized, Lucio rooting the memory to match the target’s own personality. The first student was known to seek the largest portions in the cafeteria, and Blake had once made fun of the second student’s ears until they could no longer be found in the same room together.

  But no matter what the imagery, they shared a common goal – to breed resentment.

  “Look, in the real world, these students would be angry at having lost their match. They would lash out, a little disrespect would be expected,” I had said to Lucio as we prepared for the coming long night. “But in Siri’s world, that doesn’t happen. They should bow their heads and continue moving forward like good little citizens, perhaps losing hope but never dreaming of lashing out. It’s time to give her a dose of reality. It’s time to make her panic.”

  That night, Lucio had completed half of the Bottoms, adding to the new Averages that he had completed the night before. And now, we had one student left to turn. One who would solidify the doubt in Siri’s mind that something had gone drastically wrong in the academy. One who would be impossible to ignore.

  An Upper.

  We knew where their rooms were from the time we spent cleaning their bathrooms, and we knew who slept where from fetching their laundry. And now we crept out of the Bottoms’ sleeping area, then climbed the stairs to the Upper rooms, taking care to keep our hands off the creaking hand rail.

  “Which one are you thinking?” whispered Lucio when we reached the top of the stairs but before we entered their hallway.

  “Let’s try Connor first,” I said after a moment of thought. “If we turn him, then others might pick up on his emotions and create more panic.”

  “Deal,” answered Lucio. “Just know if he wets his bed during the procedure, we’ll have a hell of a mess to clean up tomorrow. The entire Upper floor would be dripping. And, SC, this won’t be easy. I’m not sure how much I can clear away. These Uppers, their minds have been affected deeper than any of the other students’.”

  “At the very least, just piss him off, then,” I responded. “Siri will already be suspicious. We just need to cement doubt in her mind.”

  We opened the door to the Upper hallway and slid inside, walking to Connor’s room at the far left, and pausing just before the door. But before opening it, Lucio placed a hand against my chest and hissed a single word.

  “Listen!”

  Raising an eyebrow, and my feet glued to their position, I followed Lucio’s other finger as he pointed down the hallway. There, at the end beyond all the Upper rooms, a door was cracked open. The week before, I had tried that doorknob out of curiosity during chores. But I had found it locked, made a mental note to return and investigate, and had deprioritized looking into it after Darian escaped. Since the door was rickety, not the type to use if you were hiding something significant, the thought had slipped my mind.

  For a moment, all was silent. Then I heard the sound that had stopped Lucio, a voice that descended from the spiral staircase I could see just through the crack, accompanied by the faint glow of moonlight.

  Siri’s voice.

  “Damn, I’m starting to think she sleeps less than we do,” I muttered and started towards the door.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Lucio demanded and pulled my arm backwards, “If she sees you, the entire plan will be ruined.”

  “If she sees me, it will only further convince her that this school is out of her control,” I responded. “Besides, every clue I’ve gotten so far has been from being in places I don’t belong. Who knows what she’s doing up there.”

  “Probably just hypnotizing some Upper,” Lucio said, still attempting to drag me backwards but following. “Like she does every night.”

  “Then it would pay to hear what she says, wouldn’t it? We’ll get the scoop straight from the source.”

  We reached the door and I pushed it open further to fully reveal stairs. To my relief, they were stone, meaning that they would make no creaking noises, and that I could continue to approach. For at the bottom, few of Siri’s words were distinguishable, and the ones that were shed no light on her conversation.

  As I climbed, reaching near the top of the stairs but not daring to look over the edge, I heard my first sentence in her seductive voice, just as a blast of fresh air hit my face.

  “Go on, go on,” she crooned, the voice spooling down towards me. “It won’t hurt but for a second. Jump.”

  Chapter 72

  “Just a single step,” Siri continued, the her breath just barely carrying her voice. “No, no powers now. You needn’t worry about that. Just a step.”

  “But—” came a slurred voice that lost itself before the word had even finished. “But—”

  “But nothing,” Siri interrupted, eager. “Sweet nothing. Go on, just a bit closer. Let your toes curl over the edge.”

  Lucio and I were crouched just where we could see shadows dancing on the ceiling, but neither of the bodies that they represented were visible. And from our position, crouched just low enough on the stone stairs to be hidden at the back of the room, we could see the shadows looked away from us.

  Holding my breath, and moving so slowly that my muscles quivered with the effort of holding the position, I rose until just my eyes peered over the ledge, my pupils level with the floor. And I stifled a gasp.

  The room itself was small, the size of a study with a stack of old boxes piled in the corner to store teaching materials. Siri sat in an old rocking chair at the center, tilted so far forward that it rested against its curved points, her elbows on her knees and her fingers steepled between. Her eyes were alight and pupils wide, so intent upon the scene before her that I could have walked directly across her gaze. She bit the tip of her tongue as the figure before her bent beneath her command, her ankles bouncing with anticipation.

  The figure stood in an arched window, his head barely brushing the top of the opening and his hands at his sides while he balanced on the thin frame. He wavered with each of Siri’s words, edging forwards, his kn
ees shaking and jaw clenched. Moonlight silhouetted him as a light breeze ruffled his shirt, and I caught a glimpse of his face as he leaned backwards to compensate for the shuffling of his feet forwards until only his heels remained perched on the frame.

  Blake.

  “Go on,” whispered Siri, relishing the words, her hands now clasped across her knees as her voice took on a musical quality. “Just a bit farther. Take the step, right foot first. So easy, and you want to so bad. Don't you want to make me happy, to be the best student? My best student?”

  For a second, I almost echoed her words as Blake lifted a heavy ankle, stepping forward into nothingness. Without his power activated, he was defenseless, and the fall of three stories would leave his face in a far more agreeable condition than the sneer that constantly occupied it. A tear slid down his cheek as his weight slid forward and his fall began, a slow tilt that started him in a dive and ensured his nose would reach the ground first.

  “Yes,” whispered Siri as he started to lose control, her bottom lip quivering. “Oh yes, dash yourself upon the shore. Do it for me, give yourself up for me.”

  Blake’s other heel started to lose its grip as panic combined with guilt surged through me. And I realized that he was prepared to commit, to follow Siri's words over the edge and into nothingness. He would die if I did nothing, if I just watched. And even Blake didn’t deserve that fate.

  I raised a hand, preparing to yank him back inside the building with a force point, just as Siri’s sharp voice rang out.

  “Stop! Catch yourself!”

  Blake’s hands shot backwards without a second bidding, the fingertips just barely catching the sides of the window as they turned to diamond. He nearly slipped once as he propelled himself backwards, catching himself just in time to regain balance. His chest heaved as he recovered, then jumped backwards off the ledge, hugging the window frame as his feet met the floor, his face a pale white. As his hands left the frame, they revealed hundreds of fingernail marks in the wood, deep gauges that could only have occurred as a result of his diamond power.