Shattered Focus (A Paranormal, Urban, Fantasy Novella) (Focus Series Book 3)

by Alex Bostwick

  Gabriel sat in the middle of the stage on a comfortably cushioned chair. His eyes had thankfully closed before he died. I don’t think I could have handled seeing his soulful powder blue eyes without the light of perpetual youth behind them. As it was, I could barely stand. My knees had started to knock from the moment I walked into that damned room.

  Too late. I’m too late.

  Tears filled my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but they wouldn’t stop. These men and women had done nothing but serve mankind. Gabriel himself had done more for humanity and the planet than the last three presidents combined. He had been like a father to me.

  And now he was gone, gone with the rest of them. The Spirit faction had fallen, and my own spirit went with it.

  “I thought you might come,” said a voice from my right.

  I snapped my head in that direction, and saw a young man, somewhere in his mid-thirties, with sandy blond hair, lovely green eyes, and a slender build. He was dressed in a black suit, complete with black shirt and matching tie. The man sat in one of the seats in the middle of the center section, all the way in the back. He caught my gaze with his own, and held it.

  “I’m assured that they felt no pain.” He blinked several times before continuing. “Nora Tress, if I’m not mistaken. I wish I could have met you under different circumstances.”

  Gears whirred in my head as I tried to figure this out.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “My name is Louis Stell.”

  “And are you the man responsible for this?”

  He lowered his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Regrettably. Yes. Though it wasn’t my hand that carried it out, it was on my order.”

  I didn’t wait for him to continue. I screwed up my focus, exerted my will, reached down and slapped the floor beneath me. A gravity well formed directly under Stell, amplifying the pressure in the area exponentially. The chair upon which he sat collapsed in on itself, shattering and splintering into a dozen pieces.

  Yet the man simply stood up, and turned to face me directly.

  “It will do no good. I’m not really here. I’m merely projecting an image of myself onto your mind so that we can talk, Nora.”

  “My friends call me Nora,” I spat through gritted teeth.

  He inclined his head in a mock apology, and continued. “I can’t harm you, Ms. Tress. I’m several miles away, and my friends have already left the building. You’re safe, for now.”

  As if I believed him.

  “I wanted you to know that I did not take this action lightly, Ms. Tress,” Stell went on. “If it could have been avoided, I would have done anything it took to keep these good men and women alive. But they posed too great a risk to the undertaking.”

  “You mean that one of them might have copped to the fact that you’re a fucking traitorous, egomaniacal, genocidal douche nozzle?”

  For the first time, Stell’s calm demeanor wavered. His eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance at my insult. “That I mean to save the world, Ms. Tress.”

  “Right, because killing most of the people in it is a great way to save it.”

  He shook his head angrily. “It is the only way to save it. To save humanity from itself. To save the earth from slipping into chaotic upheavals that haven’t been seen since the last major extinction event. Yes, Ms. Tress; killing most of the people in the world is how I intend to save it. Because if I don’t take action, if we don’t take action, then there won’t be anyone to save.”

  “We have time, Stell,” I said. I was surprised at how tired I sounded. “A few centuries to turn the tide. Focus was working toward making it happen. At least it was, until you came along.”

  “Because Focus presented untenable solutions. We simply can’t do enough to fix the world without sweeping action, action that is swift, certain, and, yes, ruthless. We have a responsibility, Ms. Tress. Our power gives us the means to act, to affect permanent, lasting change for the better.”

  “And you get the privilege of deciding who lives and dies, I guess,” I mocked.

  “I have the burden!” he shouted angrily, his face turning red. “It is on my shoulders, my conscience that all of these people must die. I will spend the rest of my life, however long it may be, knowing that I was responsible for setting into motion the events that will claim billions of lives. And I will do so gladly with the knowledge that, without doing so, there would be no future for any of them.”

  “I get it,” I said, exhaling sharply. “Why are you telling me? Why are you wasting your time?”

  He calmed, his cheeks returning to their normal pallor. “I had hoped that you would reconsider helping Jason. That you would join us.” Stell’s eyes shifted around the room once more before refocusing on me. “But I think that it would be a waste of time.”

  “You’re right about that, Stella. Fuck off.”

  He shook his head sadly. “Then I’m afraid that I must have you killed as well, Ms. Tress. You, your skinchanger boyfriend—yes, I know about him—Jason, and that pipsqueak of a Water agent. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

  “And I’m sorry you’re insane.”

  “I’ll give you tonight, then,” Stell said. “Do what you like. I’d suggest that you run, as far away as you can. Because tomorrow I’m going to begin hunting you.”

  “Right back atcha, asshole. And if you get me before I get to you, then I guess I’ll see you in hell.”

  Stell simply vanished. There was no fanfare, no puff of smoke or lingering echoes of evil laughter; he was just gone in the time that passes in between moments.

  Choking back vomit, shaking with anger and grief, I turned and left the auditorium.

  But I returned there in my dreams.

  ***

  I met Rick in the entrance hall a few minutes later.

  “Kids?” I asked.

  “Gone. They left their stuff, though. Spirit?”

  “Dead. All of them.”

  Rick gathered me into a tight hug. For the second time that night, I melted against his chest, desperate for the support and strength of his solid presence.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “Me too,” I replied.

  We left the Academy by the front doors. Jason and Nick rolled up a few minutes later. We told them the news.

  “Stell,” Jason said behind gritted teeth. “He was a big part of the Spirit faction. He oversaw the school.”

  “Makes sense,” Nick said, his shoulders sagging. “Get them while they’re young.”

  “Bastard is going to pay for this,” Rick said. “We’ll see to it.”

  “I took measures on that front,” Jason told us. “I sent out new orders for Fire. My agents have been vetted and cleared. We’re defecting.”

  “Not much to defect from,” I pointed out. “We’re fucking shattered. Spirit only has one member left, and he’s playing for the other team. God knows how many agents from the other factions have joined up with the black hats.”

  “I’m setting a rally point, up in the mountains,” Jason said. “Staggered arrivals, background checks, the whole works. We’re going to start taking the fight to them. Going to spread the word to some of the others. Maybe we’ll be able to get a few faction leaders.”

  “First order of business should be tracking down those kids,” Rick said. “This jerkoff has enough crazies without brainwashing teenagers.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “I take it you’ll be joining us, then?”

  Rick and I shared a glance. “Not like I have anywhere else to go,” I said.

  “My family wouldn’t piss on a wizard if they were on fire,” Rick added. “And I go where Nora goes.”

  We all turned to Nicholas. He glanced around nervously at each of us.

  “I’ve got some things to make up for,” he said. “I’m in. But first I have to get my parents.”

  “We’ll help,” Rick offered. Nicholas nodded his thanks.

  “Let’s get going,”
Jason insisted. He tossed me the keys to my car. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

  We piled into my sedan, and pulled out of the parking lot.

  I didn’t know where we were going. I didn’t know what we were going to do to stop what was coming. I didn’t know if I’d make it through the next day. The only thing I could do was count on the people around me, and trust that, together, we’d see this through to the end.

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  Preview of Out of Focus

  “Concentrate,” the old man said.

  “I’m trying,” I replied, sweat gathering on my brow. I grunted in frustration as I labored to bring my will to bear successfully, to focus and channel it toward the desired effect: making Gabriel see a rainbow on the horizon.

  We stood on the back porch of his home, a small property smack dab in the middle of suburbia. The lawn was disordered, overgrown near the fence on either side, and piles of dead leaves remained where the old man beside me had neglected to bag them. It was not what I had expected, though now, more than fifteen years later, it damn well should have been. Gabriel was a serene man, sublimely unconcerned with vanity, and it is no surprise that he didn’t bother keeping up appearances when nobody who mattered would notice.

  Except for me, of course, but I don’t think Gabriel particularly cared whether or not his lawn was met with approval by an eleven year old wizard in training.

  We had begun with the easy stuff, the flashy kind of magic that could easily capture the imagination of a little girl like I had been. He had taught me how to gather flames into a ball, how to flash freeze water, how to shake the earth under my feet, and how to make the wind rush through the trees at incredible speed. Manipulation of the four elements was expected for wizards my age—or, at least, that’s what Gabriel had told me. According to him, I had progressed extremely quickly, and was on track to become “one of the best and brightest wizards of my generation.”

  Considering how far I had come in the year since my parents died, how much I had learned about the things that I could do, I couldn’t help but feel a certain satisfaction at his approval. It had been something I desperately needed at that age, something that had a magic all of its own.

  My foster parents were nice enough, of course. They took care of me, and never made me feel unwelcome in their home. From what I had learned since, my experience was not necessarily the norm for kids in the system. I suspected that Gabriel had had something to do with my placement in the Levin household.

  He certainly took an interest in me. A couple of weeks after the car accident made me an orphan, Gabriel came to see me at the hospital, where I was still being treated for my injuries. He explained my abilities, the things I could do when I was upset. He told me that I had been born with magic in me, and that it was just beginning to show itself.

  He hadn’t come alone. A young woman had joined him, a portly lady with a permanent grin on her face and long black hair. Still smiling, she held her hands above my bruises, which had stubbornly refused to fade, and closed her eyes.

  I felt wind whisper through the sterile hospital room, ruffling the pages on the clipboard at the end of my bed, stirring the boring grey curtains on the window. And then I felt the air rush through me, through my skin and bones, my torn muscles and fractured skull. It was an indescribably odd, yet pleasant sensation, sort of like wonderfully fresh and cool air blown against your face, but everywhere. I’ve yet to experience anything quite like it.

  And, to my astonishment, the bruises began to fade. As I watched, the burst capillaries beneath my skin repaired themselves, the ugly purplish blotches returning to their normal, pale skin once more.

  At the same time, the constant background pain of muscular trauma across my battered body started to recede. My arm, which had been immobilized in a cast due to compound fractures combined with severe biceps and triceps tears, ceased its complaints and never-ending pins-and-needles sensation.

  Within a couple of minutes, the damage to my body had been completely reversed. The young lady—whose name I never did learn—opened her eyes once more, smiled at my dumbfounded expression, and left the room after a nod from Gabriel.

  “That was…magic?” I asked.

  Gabriel nodded to me once more. “She’s a talented Healer. She’s part of the Air Faction at my organization.”

  “Where is she going? I didn’t get to say thank you.”

  Gabriel smiled at me. “That’s good manners, Miss Tress. But she’s going to see what she can do for some of the other patients here. We don’t like to waste hospital trips, after all.”

  I nodded solemnly. “And…I can do that kind of thing, too?”

  “Yes, if you like. I can teach you how. Would you like to learn?”

  I told him I did.

  In the following months, I met with Gabriel several times a week for lessons after school. He taught me about the different branches of magic, the applications of each, and counseled me on responsibly employing my abilities. Once he had helped me get my emotions under control (so that I wouldn’t accidentally set anything on fire while I was at school), he began to teach me how to do the things we had discussed only in theory.

  For the first time since my parents died, I felt the kind of satisfaction that can only come from purpose. Gabriel had come into my life at a critical moment, had granted me direction and focus that was desperately needed. My listless depression and shattered emotional state, the true wreckage of the car accident, had been replaced with goals. I wanted to be something.

  Even at eleven years old, I had fire in my belly, and it has never gone out.

  At the time, I didn’t understand how different my education was from most of us born with magic. Usually, kids with the gift were found somewhere around that age, but they were typically taught at a boarding school that Gabriel’s organization, Focus, maintained. They were instructed by a wide variety of teachers from every faction, though most of it was run by the Spirit branch, the diplomats and negotiators of Focus.

  I went to public school instead, and didn’t meet another wizard except for the nameless Air agent and Gabriel until I was in college. And I received private lessons from Gabriel three times a week straight through high school graduation.

  This particular late afternoon, the memory filtered through the lens of a dream, I was attempting something extraordinarily difficult for the first time. Everything before had had tangible, immediate results—freezing a cup of water, for instance. If something hadn’t been working, I was able to adjust on the fly, tweak the magic to better change the outcome.

  But spirit magic doesn’t have tangible results. It is far more subtle than that. It is based entirely upon influencing consciousness. The goal of this first foray into the intricacies of mind magic seemed simple: make Gabriel see a rainbow on the horizon. Unfortunately, it was exhaustingly complex for a preteen girl.

  See, I wasn’t actually creating a rainbow. That would be really easy, actually, even when I was such a novice; just reach for the water vapor in the atmosphere and adjust it until it refracted the light the way I wanted it to. Water magic has some seriously diverse applications when you put your mind to it.

  What I was doing was invading Gabriel’s consciousness and tweaking his sense of sight until it thought it was seeing a rainbow.r />
  And let me tell you something: it’s frickin’ hard.

  I stood there for close to an hour, straining with all of my might, using every ounce of will I could bring to bear against Gabriel’s mind. The old man simply sat, gazing toward the sunset, one hand pensively cupping his chin. God, even back then he had seemed so ancient, yet so permanently there, a fixture in my adolescent mind. I couldn’t possibly imagine a world without him.

  Then again, I had thought the same thing about my parents.

  Eventually, I collapsed onto a chair, sweat dripping off of me. I leaned back, panting heavily, my confidence at an all-time low. Everything before this had come so easily for me, had been so straightforward that I had never really needed to reach for my talent. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for this wizard thing after all.

  After a minute, when my labored breathing had normalized, Gabriel turned to me and spoke.

  “Nora, you’re trying way too hard,” he said, a grin on his face.

  “I thought that was the point, sir,” I replied.

  He shook his head. “Spirit magic isn’t something to which you can apply brute force. Each of the other branches of magic can be learned and understood as an application of power. Fire, for instance, is most often best suited for extremely passionate individuals, or people with a lot of pent up rage. Those emotions fuel their will, they shape that into a sledgehammer of magic, and the flames respond willingly. But Spirit magic requires something that a truly gifted Fire agent simply cannot have: serenity.”

  I blinked at him, feeling particularly stupid. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  His grin widened. “Do you want to change the world, Miss Tress?”

  I nodded fervently. “Yes, sir. I do.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “Why?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Why do you want to change the world?”

  “Because…because there is a lot wrong with it, sir.”

  “Examples?”