by Belle Malory
“Just ruling out a possibility. But she could still be dead, you know.”
He shook his head. “She is right here.”
“How do you know that? You can’t be one hundred percent sure.”
“The hell I can’t. All of the keepers would be able to feel the break. Especially Alanna and Colton. According to the Nona, when one of their ravalia dies, the others assume their strengths and abilities. And none of us have taken on more. We’ve grown stronger, but there’s always been a definitive line crossed between our abilities.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Point taken. The twelfth keeper isn’t dead.”
That didn’t prove it was her though.
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Phoenix asked.
Totally valid question. Shame washed over her. She was spending too much energy doing needless convincing when she should have been trying to understand what being a keeper meant.
She needed to ask the right questions. Might be a good idea to actually listen this time, too.
Figuring out what to ask was the hard part. Somehow she needed to see Phoenix’s side of things, from a more human perspective. She needed to see if she could relate to whatever it was that made him a keeper.
If he were in her shoes, what would he want to know? She reversed their roles in her mind, and it sparked an idea. “Did you know about the fire manipulation before you came here?”
He was silent for a long moment. “No, but I was five, so it wasn’t like I had loads of time to figure it out on my own.”
A subtle note of bitterness slipped in there.
Kennedy felt bad for the five-year-old Phoenix. At least she got to spend more time with her family. In fact, aside from Fang, all the keepers had spent more time with their families. Phoenix never had very much time to feel normal.
“Did you know you were special in any way?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve always carried this sense of responsibility. When I was young, I remember feeling the need to protect everyone I ever met, every animal that crossed my path. Weirdly, even plants.” He shook his head. “My pappa caught me watering the ones in the house all the time. Heavy stuff for a five-year-old.”
Kennedy swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way.”
“Not ever?”
She thought back on her life, trying to discern the details, wondering if there was ever a time she felt similar to the way Phoenix described. Sometimes when she looked at the world, she felt an appreciation, even love for it. But it wasn’t any stranger than someone enjoying good weather.
“I’m not sure. I mean, other than the people I care about. I don’t look at a total stranger and feel a responsibility for them, if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s different for everyone,” he said. “But I think you know. Deep down, you must feel something. You’re just so used to denial, and maybe it’s easier for you to believe what’s safe.”
She thought about what he said, not liking it one little bit, but she did consider it. Phoenix tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips tracing the side of her face. “I’m sorry if that isn’t what you want to hear.”
She shook her head. “No, I need to know everything. Looking at it from another perspective might make me see something that’s hidden. I won’t promise to believe it, but I will promise to look at it from all sides.”
“That’s all anyone can ask of you.”
For someone who took action quickly, he was being extremely patient with her. She appreciated it. And tomorrow, she would try even harder. For the world. For her own peace of mind. But mostly for Phoenix.
~ ~
Kennedy woke up to the smell of coffee and maple syrup. The space where Phoenix had slept beside her was cold.
“Good morning, cupcake.”
Kennedy peeked over the back of the sofa. Matilda was in the kitchen, rotating a sizzling frying pan. On the other side of the counter, gooey white clumps of batter dripped from the edge of the waffle maker.
“Morning, Matilda.” She stood, noticing the dining room table was set for two. A carafe of orange juice sat next to a plate loaded with scrambled eggs and hash browns. Matilda carried a plate piled high with steaming bacon and set it next to the eggs. “Don’t get me wrong, this looks amazing, but are you planning to feed an army?”
“No.” She whizzed back into the kitchen, checking the frying pan. “But that boy you insist is only a coworker eats like an army.”
Kennedy opened a cabinet and reached for an empty mug. “Where is Phoenix?”
Matilda pointed to the door leading towards the pool. “Exercising.” Kennedy looked at the glass door, but she couldn’t see anything on the other side. She filled her mug with coffee, wondering why he chose to exercise out there.
The waffle maker beeped, and Matilda unloaded a fluffy, golden-brown slice of heaven. Kennedy’s mouth watered at the sight of it.
Still feeling groggy, she sipped her coffee, hoping to wake up. She immediately spit it right back into her mug. “Ugh, gross.”
Matilda chuckled. “Your coworker made that pot.”
Kennedy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grimaced. She seriously needed to teach Phoenix how to make coffee. Whatever this muddy water was, it was ten times stronger than it was supposed to be and extremely bitter. “Stop calling him my coworker. His name is Phoenix.”
“His name is Your Full Of Crap.” Matilda did the thing where she put her arms on her hips again. “And I saw you curled up on the couch with him.”
Kennedy tossed the black liquid into the sink. “We’re friends.”
“Whatever you say, cupcake.”
“And my name isn’t cupcake.”
Saying they were friends sounded all wrong coming out of Kennedy’s lips, and she wondered how to define their relationship. Kindred spirits? No. Partners in crime? Maybe. She sighed. Whatever she and Phoenix were, it wasn’t friends.
Swallowing her anxiety, she gathered a plate of food and headed out the glass door. Phoenix was on the other side of the pool, shirtless and in the middle of a long rep of push-ups. Sweat trickled from his skin, and from her vantage point, she could easily see what made him so lethal, all agile muscles and sinew, and a body that went on forever. Desire shot through her, and she found herself wanting to touch every inch of him. To drop her plate, run to him, and kiss him again, the way he kissed her last night.
She didn’t move.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
Kennedy’s cheeks warmed, and she felt a little dizzy.
He squatted by the pool, splashing his face with water, then wiped it with a towel.
“Hungry?” she held the plate out for him.
“Starved.” Phoenix jogged across the cement, grabbing the plate out of her hands happily. He fell into a lounge chair and shook the damp hair out of his face before digging into his breakfast.
The water still rippled where Phoenix disturbed it. Kennedy fastened her gaze on it, transfixed by each curve stretching across the clear blue water.
“You okay being out here?”
She slowly nodded, closing her eyes.
Blackness erupted as Kennedy summoned her memories from the night of the storm. Her father’s hands slipping away, the wave jerking her body, trying to tear her in two.
She pressed her mind for answers, trying to see through the backs of her eyelids.
The ocean stilled. She remembered feeling it calm, so thankful for the peace it brought. It lulled her into a numb trancelike state. She vaguely remembered feeling…relaxed.
The tips of her fingers floated to her waist, brushing against her sides. She thought it was strange. The rope was gone, somehow wrangled from her body during the crash of the wave.
Kennedy’s eyes shot open.
The water cradled her in its depths, brought her to safety, carrying her south to Port Orange as the storm traveled north.
The ocean may have taken her father’s life.
But it had saved hers.
Thirty-Seven
As crazy as it sounded, Kennedy felt the truth in it.
She should be dead, and yet here she was, with a pulse. Breathing. Alive. There were so many impossibilities she couldn’t grasp, details about that day her mind couldn’t handle.
So she shut them out. Refused to accept them. If she couldn’t wrap her mind around the truth, then it never happened.
Except it did.
And she should be dead right now.
“Kennedy?” Phoenix stood, setting his plate of food down slowly. “You okay?”
She turned to face him. “Yeah, why?”
He frowned, looking her over. “Scared me for a second. You looked like you saw a ghost.”
No, only the truth, and it scared the hell out of her. “Phoenix, I want to try other things today.” Because she might as well keep going now.
“As in water things?”
“Yes.” She nodded, and since that word hadn’t sounded very certain the first time, she said it again. “Yes.”
Her eyes drifted over the water. She needed to do this. No more hiding. No more shying away. This was the moment she knew would eventually come. Her versus the water. And one way or another, she was going to put the ultimate question to bed. Was she or wasn’t she the twelfth keeper?
Today she was going to find out.
She kneeled, and let her palms graze the surface of the water.
Phoenix was immediately at her side. “We can take baby steps, you know. You don’t have to hold your head under like Dr. Sigly tried to make you do.”
She smiled at him. He was so worried, so beautiful, and so perfect. If it turned out she wasn’t the twelfth, she hoped he would still look at her the same way.
“I’m not getting in. I saw the way you manipulated the fire, and you didn’t have to burn yourself to do it.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Not really. Any pointers?”
“Only that you have to believe you’re capable of moving it. The manipulation is like an extension of that belief. Other than staying focused, there’s really nothing else to it.”
Right. Nothing else to it. Easy as pie. Sounded like crap to Kennedy, but whatever. She’d go with it.
His hand rested over the small of her back. “You can do this. You were born to do it. Pretend the water is a person. Tell it what you want it to do.”
Kennedy drew in a deep breath and smelled the chlorine in the air. The pool waited for her, still and clear and unmoving. Here we go.
She imagined a stream floating up from the center, funneling into a sphere the size of a basketball. She pictured the sphere rotating and twisting, orbiting in the air.
This is possible, she thought and compelled herself to believe it.
Putting every ounce of her energy into it, she believed she could move the water and form a sphere. Please God, let this be possible.
That thought surprised Kennedy. All this time she believed this was something she wanted no part of, but amazingly, she felt herself want it. She felt herself will it to be.
After a few intently focused moments, Kennedy turned around to face Phoenix. “Should I try again?” she asked. “What am I doing wrong?”
His eyes were wide, something blue and fiery floating within their black depths. He lifted his hand towards the pool, pointing above them. She spun back around.
There above them, was a spiraling blue orb of water.
Thirty-Eight
It was true.
The orb fell and crashed back down into the pool, sending a small wave of water over the edge, splashing Kennedy and Phoenix’s feet.
She felt her lips part in awe, her eyes round with the realization of what they’d just seen. Then, just as swiftly as it happened, her mind and body shook free of whatever connection it had tapped into.
She stood there for several long moments, trying to wrap her head around it. Beside her, she thought she heard Phoenix let out a low whistle, followed by a stunned, “Bloody hell.”
Kennedy had no words. She didn’t know what to think, what to say. Didn’t entirely know how she felt.
Since the moment she came to Olympus, she had been planning for this not to happen. And, oh God, she had so many plans. To go home. To move on. Maybe throw an I told you so in there the next time she saw Professor Mason.
Now what?
The moment the water moved and formed a sphere, all her plans vanished. She never prepared for this.
Phoenix grasped Kennedy’s arms, his face lit up. “You made a shape,” he said, his eyes wild with excitement. “Do you know how incredible that is?”
From somewhere outside of herself, she forced her lips to move, her mouth to speak. “Why is that incredible?”
“You kidding me? It took the others months, Kennedy. Years, for some. It’s your first time, and you manipulated a sphere.”
Phoenix’s eyes looked like shining onyx gems. He talked so fast, bringing out the accent she secretly adored. It was like every English accent rolled up into one.
He waited for her to say something, to express some form of emotion, but Kennedy didn’t have one for him. And the longer he waited, the less his eyes sparkled, the less enthusiastic he seemed. It was too much, not being able to say the things he wanted to hear, and having to look at his disappointment afterwards.
Kennedy turned, rushing back inside the apartment and heading into her bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Phoenix called after her.
Her black hoodie was slung over her bedside lamp; her dark jeans laid in a heap on the floor. She yanked them both on, feeling a frenzy take over.
She wasn’t sure why, but this growing need to get out of there took over, and it consumed her. She needed to get away from Phoenix. Away from the water. Away from everything.
Phoenix blocked the front door. He leaned against the frame, his arms folded casually over his chest. The severe, almost formidable expression was back, making him once again look like the impenetrable death machine that terrified her. “Would you like to tell me where you’re headed?”
She couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I need to be alone.”
“You’re freaking out.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged, wishing she could articulate how she felt into words. “I just…need time to absorb things. By myself.”
She forced herself to look at him. A muscle in his jaw flexed, but he nodded. Her words had cut him.
Guilt washed over her. Phoenix had been there for her, even when he didn’t want to be. And here she was, running away. It made her feel incredibly awful, and yet, she wouldn’t change her mind. It was physical, this powerful need to get away. To be alone. Every fiber in her body told her to run.
Phoenix held the door open, not saying another word. Kennedy ran. No matter how much she wanted to, she didn’t look back.
~ ~
Kennedy kept her hood up as she mindlessly roamed the streets of the Neon City. For a long while, she didn’t come out of her sphere, floating around the buildings in a surreal daze.
It wasn’t long before she was lost, which was fine. Getting lost matched her mood.
She eventually landed in a quiet café overlooking the outer walls. From there, the windows expanded at least fifty feet into the air, leaving no doubt that they were entirely surrounded by galactic space.
There were a few empty tables near the back, and Kennedy dropped into one. The barista came by, took her order, and left again. He seemed busy, barely sparing her a glance, despite all the empty tables. She was thankful he didn’t take the time to recognize her face.
A small arcade connected with the café. Two boys, maybe a little younger than her, played a game chasing disappearing lights. Music streamed from the machine, beating loudly. One of the boys laughed when his friend fell on his butt after missing a light. Seeing he was being made fun of, the friend
scowled. The laughing boy reached down to help his friend up, but was jerked forward, landing on the ground.
Seeing their innocent playfulness caused her to smile enviously. Those were the kinds of things Hunter and she used to do together. Playing in arcades, laughing over stupid games. Air hockey was their favorite. To this day, she held the most wins between the two of them. Something she was proud of, considering he beat her at just about everything else.
The barista came back with her coffee, and Kennedy sipped from it, in no rush to go anywhere or do anything. As far as she was concerned, in that moment in time, she was no longer Kennedy Mitchell or the twelfth keeper. She was simply a girl sitting in a café. From the outside looking in, everything looked completely ordinary.
The problem was being on the inside, looking out.
A strand of hair spiraled away from her fingers. Pretending to be something she wasn’t was another bad idea. Okay, no more denial. She’d clearly done enough of that. Maybe it was time to face the big, ugly monster in the room.
She inhaled, slowly breathing in and out.
I am the twelfth keeper.
There. It was over, and easy enough to admit it to herself after seeing what she was capable of. The hard part was figuring out what to do about it.
Because honestly, even though she was the twelfth keeper, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t suck at the job. How was she supposed to be this mighty thing?
Normal she had down pat. She could handle a normal, boring existence. But bravery and strength? Controlling the elements? Those were qualities belonging to more capable people. Not her.
Kennedy stared into her coffee mug. At best, she was a dreamer. Sometimes she was a romantic. Family-oriented. And selfless when it came to the people she cared about.
But at her worst, she was a total chicken. Ugh, she hated admitting it, but it was true. When things got really tough, denial was her best friend (as she learned over the last few hours).