The Hidden Gift

by Ian Somers

  The tapping came from the back of the cottage again - louder this time. I shot out of the room and went to the kitchen. I raced to the window but could see no one. What the hell was going on?

  I’d had enough of this game and pulled the door open. I could see no one at first, but when I looked down I saw that I had a most unusual visitor. There, standing on the wooden porch before me, was the biggest bird I had ever seen. It was about three feet tall and almost as broad. Its sharp face was turned up at me and its yellow eyes were fixed on my own.

  The bird came waddling forward and cawed loudly at me, as if telling me to get out of its way. I thought about giving it a kick or nudging it backward with my psychokinesis – it was already in the kitchen before I had time to act.

  ‘Get the hell out of here, stupid bird!’ I shouted. ‘Go on! Get! There’s nothing for you here. There’s no food for you.’

  It suddenly spread its enormous wings and rose up off the floor. The kitchen was too small for the bird to fly, but it tried and made a right mess of the place in the process. Chairs, cups, plates, pots and pans were knocked off the counters and clattered onto the floor before the bird eventually came to rest. It stood proudly – if a little flustered – on the kitchen table and watched me as I edged to the door leading to the porch. I didn’t fancy having my eyes pecked out by this giant hawk, or whatever it was, and I thought it best to give it some space until it decided to bugger off.

  ‘This day is just getting stranger and stranger,’ I said, looking at the feathered beast. ‘First I get into a fight at 6.30 in the morning and now my home has been invaded by a big … vulture!’

  ‘It’s not a vulture. It’s a Steller’s sea eagle.’

  I almost jumped out of my skin and I spun round to see Hunter standing behind me on the back porch.

  ‘Hunter, you nearly gave me a damned heart attack. Why are you always sneaking up on me?’

  ‘A precog should never be surprised,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

  ‘That’s not entirely accurate,’ I replied. ‘Precogs can only sense imminent physical danger. They can’t predict people sneaking up on them and making smart remarks!’

  ‘How very enlightening,’ Hunter snorted as he brushed past me. He stood in the kitchen with his hands on his hips and he looked the bird dead in the eye. ‘The stupidity of some people never ceases to amaze me.’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘The Siberian coastline is the natural habitat for these birds so I would deduce that it hasn’t simply happened past our home and decided to come in for a nose about. The only logical explanation is that this bird is being controlled by a mind-switcher. It is a rare creature and the only person I know of that has one is Peter Williams. And the only people I know that hang out with him and have the gift of mind-switching are the Atkinsons. And Cathy Atkinson happens to be your sweetheart. It’s a good guess that it’s her, in an elaborate and flamboyant disguise.’

  The bird cawed at him before it turned to me and inclined its head slightly. It was Cathy, using that weird gift of hers. It had been ages since I’d seen her and we’d had no way of communicating up until now.

  ‘Cathy,’ Hunter said to the eagle. ‘Using a bird to come up here is one thing. I don’t even blame you for that, but couldn’t you have picked a more inconspicuous animal? A Steller’s sea eagle! One of the largest birds in the world and we’re supposed to be in hiding.’

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘There’s a roll of paper looped to its leg. It must be a message from the Guild.’

  ‘More likely a vomit-inducing love letter to you.’

  He stepped forward and tore the roll from a nylon strap that was looped around the eagle’s leg. He quickly unravelled it then handed it to me. My name was scribbled on the front of the envelope.

  ‘It’s a letter,’ I said, examining the envelope. ‘This is the best postal service ever! It’s like getting invited to Hogwarts.’

  ‘Hogwarts?’

  ‘Hunter, you really need to get out more.’

  ‘I get out enough.’

  He turned to the eagle and ordered it out. I still couldn’t get my head around the mind-switch gift. I knew Cathy was controlling the bird, but it seemed such a cold and emotionless creature and its eyes betrayed no feelings at all.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, just before it sprang off the table and swooped through the open doorway. I walked out to the porch to see it rising fast and soaring over the forest nearby. It was out of sight within a couple of minutes.

  It was the first positive thing that had happened in my life since the battle at the Atkinson house and I wanted to enjoy it alone. I sat on the swing chair out on the porch and pulled open the envelope to find a letter and a photograph inside. I glanced at the picture, but it stirred up some uncomfortable emotions so I slipped it back into the envelope and unfolded the letter that accompanied it. I wanted to lose myself in Cathy’s words for a while.

  Hello again, handsome!

  I’m so sorry it’s taken this long to get in touch with you. When we last saw each other I thought I’d be able to write you every second day but it’s taken eight weeks for me to convince Peter Williams to let me send you this message. I hope you’re not angry, Ross. There’s been so much trouble down here since you left and everyone is on edge. Nobody is allowed to travel alone and public meetings are out of the question. Even sending letters has been prohibited by the Guild. Can you believe that??

  It was only late last night that Peter told me that it was okay to send this letter. Then he said I couldn’t use the regular postal service, and would have to deliver the message personally. I hope the eagle doesn’t scare you! I’ve been spending a lot of time at Peter’s wildlife sanctuary (isn’t that cool!) and the only bird he had that was capable of a long flight was the Steller’s Sea Eagle. I’ve been practising the mind-switch with the bird all week and I’m really starting to get the hang of it. Learning to fly as an eagle takes a lot of practice. It’s not like a kingfisher.

  You do remember when I controlled the kingfisher, right? I’ll never forget that day, Ross. Our first kiss will stay with me forever and all I think about is seeing you again. I’ve asked Peter when you’ll be allowed to return, but he won’t give me a straight answer. I really hope it will be soon!!

  It’s been a crazy two months since you left. Dreadful, but exciting too. Mum is showing some signs of improvement though she’s still not back to her old self. Romand’s death has really hit her hard and she spends a lot of time on her own; nobody’s allowed mention his name in front of her. That just sets her off crying, and it’s very difficult to get her to stop once she starts. What happened with Romand has made life harder for everyone who knew him. I’m sure you miss him too. I know I do. I spend a lot of time by his grave, thinking back to the good times we had with him. I’m almost crying writing this. I still find it hard to come to terms with how he died. It makes me angry and confused. Sometimes I can’t talk to anyone about it. I know you probably feel the same. Maybe it will be easier when you come back to England and we can spend time together again …

  There have been some good times recently, though. Peter Williams has a private animal sanctuary near his home. He rescues exotic animals that foolish millionaires bought but couldn’t look after once they’d grown up, or weren’t permitted to have and the authorities removed them. You should see the animals he has, Ross! I still miss Bebe and Pepe but I’m learning so much by interacting with so many new and weird creatures. I’ve spent a lot of time with the eagle and I’ve also switching my mind into a python that he has here. I was always scared of snakes but not any more. They really are incredible creatures – although their minds work very differently to ours and it was hard to learn how to move without limbs!

  The animal I’ve spent most time with is Nightshade. He’s a three-year-old black panther rescued recently from a billionaire playboy who had him locked in a cage out his back garden (how can some people be so cruel??)

  I’ve per
fected the mind-switch with Nightshade and I’m pushing the limits of my gift by following the work of Miriam Tompkins, the woman who used her gift to tame wild animals. I’ve come a long way in the last two weeks, and Nightshade is already capable of being around other humans without showing any sign of aggression.

  Right, I’m probably boring you now! What exciting stuff have you been up to? I’m sure you and Hunter have been working on loads of cool new training techniques. I hope the two of you have become friends by now. I know he can be a bit cranky when you first meet him, but he chills out after a while.

  Please write back soon. Hunter knows the address for the Williams Estate and he’ll make sure your letter arrives.

  Missing you loads!

  Cathy

  PS Don’t go falling in love with any Scottish girls!!

  I read over the letter three times before I folded it over and placed back in the envelope. Reading Cathy’s words made me feel close to her again. The one thing I wanted more than anything. I just wanted to kiss her again. To touch her. To hold her. The world sure was a brighter place when Cathy Atkinson was around. I had many more months of Hunter’s company ahead of me, but the promise of being with Cathy again made it seem less daunting.

  I plucked the photograph from the envelope and gazed at it for a time, then my heart felt heavy and I put it away. I didn’t want to feel sad in that moment, I wanted to keep feeling loved and wanted. Reality was never far away, though, and Hunter quickly brought me back down to earth.

  ‘Looks like a cold spell is headed our way,’ he said. He was standing in the doorway and looking at the bleak landscape. ‘I want you to go get some firewood.’

  ‘All in good time, Hunter.’

  ‘You can take your time, but make sure you do it before sundown. Otherwise you might find yourself trapped outside again.’

  ‘Anything to be away from you.’

  ‘You won’t think like that once the temperature drops. We’re also due heavy rain. It’s your choice, you want to stay outside for the evening then go right ahead.’ He disappeared inside the cottage and left me to ponder the letter once more.

  I was getting more and more frustrated by my exile. Cathy’s letter had accentuated my loneliness and I was jealous that she was having fun and learning to improve her gift. I wasn’t much of an animal lover, but spending time in a reserve for exotic creatures in the south of England sounded a lot more appealing than being trapped with Hunter by the side of a cold mountain in the north.

  I ignored Hunter’s warnings and decided to go to my room and pen a reply to Cathy’s message. It took a couple of hours and I scrunched up more than a dozen attempts before I was happy with my written response. It was full of lies. How could I tell her the truth about my time away from her? I simply said that Hunter and I were getting on like a house on fire and I was learning to control my powers and so on. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  ‘Bentley!’ Hunter shouted from his room. ‘Don’t forget the firewood.’

  ‘Bentley, do this. Bentley, do that,’ I moaned to myself. ‘Bentley is slowly going nuts.’

  At 3pm I passed my letter, sealed in an envelope, to Hunter and told him I wanted him to send it to the Williams Estate. He said he would, although he was hardly convincing. I took one of his coats from a hanger in the hallway and I left the cottage then trudged across the sodden fields to the forest.

  Getting firewood wasn’t exactly a straightforward chore. Especially as there was no axe at the cottage. I had to use my gift to down a tree then divide it up into small logs. That sounds easier than it actually is.

  First I had to create a downward wave – a very precise one. I created a ceiling of energy at the top of the tree then pulled it down along the trunk. It had to be powerful enough to strip away all the branches, yet not so potent as to destroy the trunk itself. It took time to get it right but after an hour or so I was successful and a tree bare of branches was before me.

  Cutting down the branchless tree was simple. I gathered my power and sent a slice towards the tree - this was a technique I’d learned from reading the notes of Ala-Qush. The disc of energy cut the tall pine down and it swung lazily before falling to the ground with a loud thump. The next step was to create very precise slicing techniques to cut the thick trunk into blocks that were small enough to throw into the hearth of the fireplace, or into the furnace at the back of the cottage. By the time I was finished chopping up the tree my power was waning. It needed a lot of concentration and I found it hard to use emotion, which fuelled my powers.

  I stacked some of the logs together and levitated them a few feet off the ground, then marched back to the cottage with the bundle of logs hovering in front of me. I dropped them on the back porch then tossed a few into the furnace before sitting at the kitchen table, exhausted. Hunter was at the stove and didn’t acknowledge me as I sat. I sniffed and wrinkled my nose, realising he was making that awful stew of his again. I was starving, but the thoughts of it were making me queasy.

  I managed to down a few spoonfuls of the stew. It tasted even worse than it smelled. Hunter on the other hand lapped it up, then took mine and ate that too. He was a repulsive man when he was eating. A horse would have better table manners. He flung the bowls into the sink when he was finished then went to the sitting room for a cigar, which he always did after dinner. I was glad to be left alone.

  The sun was setting and there was just enough light in the kitchen for me to see the faces clearly. The photograph was a little tarnished but as I held it up against the fading light from the window I could see every detail and line on Romand’s face. He was sitting in the back garden of the Atkinson’s house and had his arm around Cathy. They were both smiling and the evening summer sun cast a warm hue on their faces. I remembered that evening quite well. Romand and I were sitting outside discussing the day’s training when Cathy emerged from the house with her camera and started taking snaps of us. She’d said she wanted one of her and Romand and I had volunteered to be the cameraman. It took eight snaps before Romand finally smiled.

  I rubbed my thumb over the image of the two people I missed so much. I felt like crying, but knew it wasn’t the thing to do. What would Romand say if he saw me weeping over an old photograph? He’d probably curse in French then tell me I was a sissy.

  He looked so happy in the photograph, which was a stark contrast to my final memory of him. I shuddered when I pictured his broken body and the demented look in Marianne’s eyes when she tried to kill me. The emotional and physical pain was still close, still tugging at my heart whenever I had a quiet moment to myself. I remained angry with myself for allowing Romand to sacrifice himself for me. I should have reacted quicker that night. Perhaps he’d still be alive if I hadn’t hid in the attic like a coward.

  The letter had eased my worries a little, though, and I knew Cathy remained safe. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if any harm came to her. In fact, I felt guilty that I’d left and she remained in the centre of the trouble. Not that I’d had much of a choice. I would have opted to stay had it been my decision.

  ‘You been reading that soppy love letter again?’

  I looked over the photograph to see Hunter standing in the doorway to the hallway. His cold eyes were fixed on me and his broad arms were folded over one another. That mocking smile was on his face again.

  ‘Why are you so cruel?’ I replied as I folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope. ‘I’ve never done anything to you.’

  ‘I have to share my home with you. That’s reason enough.’

  ‘It wasn’t my choice to come here. I’ll gladly leave in the morning and go back to living a normal life.’

  He stepped into the kitchen and flicked on the overhead lamp. ‘Give up on any hope of a normal life, Bentley. This is your life from now on.’

  ‘This isn’t a life, Hunter.’

  ‘I told you not to call me that, Bentley. Only my friends call me that.’

  ‘Don’t ca
ll me Bentley.’

  ‘I’ll call you whatever I like. This is my home and I say what goes.’ He pulled a chair from the under the table and sat facing me. He pressed one elbow on the table top and outstretched his other arm towards me. ‘Give me a look at that picture.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because it’s my house and I—’

  ‘Oh, suit yourself.’ I slid the photograph across the table. ‘It won’t cheer you up. It’s put me in a right horrid humour.’

  He held it up and stared carefully at it for a long while before a smile pushed at one of his cheeks. I knew he and Romand had been close friends for many years and was expecting a different reaction. I certainly didn’t think it would bring any warmth to his cold heart.

  ‘Why the smile?’ I asked.

  ‘Why not? I have so many fond memories of Romand. Pictures of him will always make me smile.’ Hunter’s face went blank then, as if he was unsure of how to act in front of me. It was almost as if he was afraid, or embarrassed, to reveal his true emotions to me. I guess that was normal. I was practically a stranger to him, and he didn’t seem like a man who was comfortable sharing his feelings. It was in that moment that I realised that Hunter had never been able to properly grieve for his friend because I had been imposed on him immediately after the funeral. I suppose I wasn’t the only one who was finding the living arrangements difficult to deal with.

  ‘I’ll miss him,’ Hunter finally said, ‘as will the Guild miss his support.’

  ‘I hate the way you mention the Guild, but never actually talk to me about it. If I didn’t know better I’d be starting to think that it’s a figment of your imagination. On the first morning that I was here you asked me to join and ever since then you’ve practically ignored me. You only gave me the vaguest possible description of this Guild. Not a word on who else is part of it, what gifts they have and what members of this group actually do.’

  ‘All in good time.’

  ‘And you keep saying that! All in good time, Bentley,’ I tried to imitate his Scottish accent and did a terrible job. I leaned across the table. ‘Tell me, who’s in charge of this Guild?’