She didn’t hesitate before nodding. I opened the door to the boys’ locker room, pushing out with my magic, trying to sense his position now. Rows of lockers greeted me, and I quietly stepped inside. Nobody was visible. Judging by the panicked voices, they were around the corner. Rather than immediately joining them, I decided to see if I could sense the bomb through the lockers. I stepped down the row next to the door. It was close, but not enough. I shook my head in frustration—I’d have to approach the kid, get in the same row with him.
I took a deep breath, waiting until I knew I was calm before stepping around the corner, having only a vague idea for the excuse I’d give for being there. The boy—almost a man—was panicked, huddled in another corner, wearing nothing but shorts and PVC pipes strapped with Velcro around his torso. Two school officials, both dressed in nice skirts and blouses, were trying to comfort him. My ears were ringing from my own stress, and I couldn’t understand what they were saying—I computed only the tones of their voices. They were also panicked.
I trailed my finger along the lockers, pretending to be searching for something. “Sorry for the interruption, but I’m looking for John Smith’s locker. Do any of you know where it is?”
Not waiting for an answer, I continued “searching for names”—nothing had been written on these lockers. I slowly approached the boy, acting like what I was doing was completely normal. It was a gamble, but I didn’t know what else to do. He was upset, and the counselors were probably out of ideas. Unless screaming, panicking, and frightening students into corners were all part of a state-sanctioned emergency plan.
The three stared at me, surprised to see me there. I turned to them, still at least seven feet from the boy, and folded my arms. I needed to be within five feet to sense this particular bomb, apparently. “Okay, seriously—I’m sorry I’m interrupting whatever you guys are doing, but I need to know where John Smith’s locker is.” I nodded at the boy. “Have you seen it?”
He looked at me, and the fear in his eyes vanished for a moment as he considered my question. “N—no,” he stammered. “Wh—what name did you say?”
“John Smith.” I turned and looked at the lockers again, still inching my way toward him. I pointed at each, “reading” out loud as I went. “Bob Dole, Robert Kennedy Jr., Barbara Bush.” They were the first names that came to my mind. Yeah, definitely not creative. I straightened, tapping my lips with my finger. “I could’ve sworn he said it was here.”
By this point, I was close enough to sense the bomb again. I held it in my mind, ready for anything, and glanced at him. “Things are going to be fine—I’m sure you’ll pull through this.”
I hadn’t been trained much in how to handle situations like this where the actual people were concerned. I didn’t know what was appropriate to say. Obviously, the word “fine” was a bad one because the moment it left my lips, the fear on the boy’s face vanished completely, replaced with anger.
“You don’t know that! My mom’s cheating on my dad. I saw her with another man!” He looked at the school counselors. “And I’m tired of people telling me it’s going to be fine!”
Without warning, he released the trigger on the bomb.
Chapter Three
I’d been waiting for it, but I was still surprised to sense the magic as the spark erupted, racing toward the wick.
When I sense something ignite, it’s almost as if time slows down. It doesn’t, but my perception of things changes. I’m able to sense every part of the sparking process, every aspect of the molecules bumping into one another as they create that chain reaction we all recognize from Hollywood.
This time was no different. I followed the molecules, quieting them, slowing them, mentally diffusing the spark. And instead of the bomb going off, a loud pop burst through the air.
I still jump whenever I hear that pop, but I’ll never forget the time when it didn’t occur. The resulting explosion was much louder, killing three people and burning the right half of my body from the waist down. That was when I learned I needed to be a lot closer to the bombs in real life than I had been for the fake ones in my classes.
The boy looked at the trigger in surprise before clicking it several more times. Again, I had to stop each spark. I felt my energy drain with each click. Then he began pumping the trigger like he was playing an intense thumb war game, and I turned on him, ready to punch him in the face.
“Knock it off!” I said. “Don’t you know how difficult it was to stop the first one, let alone every single one after?”
Yeah, so letting him know I might tire eventually was akin to encouraging him to continue. I couldn’t let his thoughts go in that direction, so I said, “I’m just going to keep doing it. And I’m positive my brain has more stamina than your thumb does. You’ll blister long before I’m finished.”
The boy didn’t have time to respond before several cops rushed into the locker room. Thank goodness—I really couldn’t have lasted much longer. They wrestled the switch away from him, then their own specialist carefully removed the bomb while several cops pinned the kid against the lockers.
I stuck around in case I was needed. Actually, I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. Stopping the little twerp had taken a lot more energy than usual, and as a result of overusing my magic, I could no longer feel the lockers or anything else I touched.
All Aretes have a magic-use threshold. Our powers come from a part of the brain known as the pineal gland, and when we reach our threshold, that gland borrows from other areas of the brain. This results in the loss of one of the senses. When I’ve overdone it, I can’t tell what I’m touching anymore. You could hand me keys and a wallet and I wouldn’t know the difference between them unless I’m looking at them directly, and even then, it’s confusing.
My best friend, Nicole, loses the ability to sense pain. When she starts to feel comfortable, she knows she’s at risk of doing permanent damage. That’s another thing—if the pineal gland borrows too much from the rest of the brain, it causes damage to the brain that is irreversible. I haven’t ever met anyone who’s done that, but I know they exist, and I really don’t want to join them.
Once the bomb had been safely defused and the boy handcuffed and carted away, I sank to the bench, putting my head in my hands. I couldn’t afford to let the teenager see how difficult that had been, but the school officials and cops didn’t matter as much.
Bombs and guns were a lot more difficult than anything else. Mainly because of the mental exhaustion and the idea that if I failed, multiple lives would be affected. There were people out there who cared for that kid and wanted him to be okay.
The Lehi chief of police and the Saratoga Springs chief entered together.
“This is going to be a huge mess to clean up,” the Saratoga Springs chief said.
Chief slowly shook his head. “I don’t envy you. It’s not going to be pretty for him.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?” Chief had always had a soft spot for me. He’d told me multiple times I was like a granddaughter to him. He’d had a soft spot for the previous Fire Impeder too, but I wondered if it was more because she used to be such a looker. He was probably thirty years her junior, but that wouldn’t stop him from having a crush on her.
I nodded. “I will be. Just need to rest for a moment.”
I stared at my hands, willing my heart to calm and my brain to heal, wondering just how far I’d pushed myself. Rather than testing it out in front of so many people, I decided to wait until I was relatively alone. “Testing it out” consisted of touching various items and textures. Sometimes, when I hadn’t pushed myself very far, I could still sense the rougher things, like sandpaper. Or whiskers. I would have smiled at a fond memory if I hadn’t been so drained.
When I indicated I was ready, Chief and I walked back to his car, where I’d left my purse. I carefully pulled out my invoice booklet and filled in one of the slips, not letting Chief see how much I struggled. I ripped off the paper and handed it to him.
&n
bsp; He only glanced at it, obviously not surprised to see three zeros after a single number one. “Lizzie . . .” He shook his head before tucking the invoice into his front pocket. “Eleanora charged ten times this.” He sighed—it was an old argument, and one he knew he’d lose. “I’ll get this to the Saratoga Springs office after taking you home.”
“Thanks. Let me know if they need anything else.”
He waved at his officers, who were also leaving, then we got into his car and headed back to my home. We were silent on the way there.
I used to feel guilty for charging at all for my services, but I had to stay alive too. And, as people have learned the hard way, not having a Fire Impeder usually resulted in quite a bit of expense for cities and private businesses.
I didn’t know much about the bomb the kid had, but I was positive that if it had gone off, well over one thousand dollars of damage would’ve happened. Physical destruction, funerals, emotional trauma . . . all of that would have to be paid for by someone.
Not only that, but the fact that there were only ten Fire Impeders in the entire country meant that I could afford to charge pretty high. But ten times more than what I’d just charged felt wrong, no matter how rare my specialty was or how much I respected Eleanora.
I was the only Fire Impeder in the west, outside of two who worked in California. Though I spent most of my time in Utah, I also covered a large portion of Nevada, along with all of Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming, and Idaho. Sometimes I got called to go to Montana or Texas, but not as often. Unfortunately, shootings and such usually require someone to be on staff in the city where the event is taking place. Shootings and bomb threats rarely happened in this state, and I’d been offered much higher pay by Phoenix and Vegas city reps, but I liked the slower pace I’d found here, and I knew my service didn’t go unappreciated.
While it was possible for Aretes of the other elements to learn Fire aspects, true Fire Aretes were the only ones who could become Fire Impeders. I didn’t totally understand the science behind why, but I did know that it kept me in a job, and naturally, that was good for me.
Chief dropped me off, and I was glad to see that Sia had survived my sudden disappearance, though my cereal hadn’t been so lucky. I dumped the soggy mess she’d left behind down the drain, then poured myself a new bowl with fresh milk and ate it.
I was about to lie down for a nap when my phone rang. I answered it, excited after seeing it was my best friend, Nicole. She and her husband had moved to Montana after getting married, and I’d only seen her once in the years since.
“You get to be the first to hear the news,” she said. “I’m pregnant!”
“Are you serious?” I got up and started pacing. Oh, I wished so much I lived near her. Before coming here, I had set up near Nicole’s ranch, but nothing ever happened up there. I started feeling like I was letting seven years of education and three years of internships go down the drain, so I had packed up and left, eventually landing here. “That’s so awesome! When are you due?”
“December. I was going to wait until I saw you tomorrow, but I couldn’t. I’m flying in and bringing a friend. What time are you going to be home?”
I hadn’t known she was coming, but it wasn’t like I had a full schedule. “Should you really be flying? How about I come see you?”
“No, it’s okay. Seriously. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten out, and I could definitely use a break. I’m going crazy!”
I chuckled. “Serves you right for marrying a rancher.”
Nicole sighed into the phone. “I know. And I’ve said it before—it’s a good thing I love my in-laws.”
“You said you’re bringing a friend. Should I be worried? Mom hasn’t been talking to you lately, has she?”
I’d burned out on dating while at a specialty school for Fire Impeder training in California. Before then, I’d gone through guys pretty quickly and hadn’t ever been in a serious relationship. While at the specialty school, I’d gotten engaged to an Earth Arete who was studying bomb making. That relationship had ended when a class exercise took a wrong turn. I still couldn’t think about it without panic and grief making my throat start to close.
Mom was worried about me. She’d really wanted me to move to Texas, but I needed a change.
Nicole laughed. “Heavens, no. He’s just a friend. An older friend you probably won’t be attracted to, I promise.”
My curiosity was piqued now. “So, why are you coming?”
“I can’t tell you now. You’ll understand later why.”
Interesting. “Any time is good for me. Should I plan on picking you up from the airport?”
“No, we’re renting a car.” I heard her tapping on a keyboard. Then she said, “Okay, found a flight. We’ll be there around nine in the morning, depending on traffic.”
“Sounds good. I can’t wait to see you!”
“Same, Lizzie, same. How’s work going?”
I filled her in on the bomb threat from that morning, and she was sufficiently surprised and shocked. We talked a little longer, then exchanged goodbyes and ended the call. The rest of the day was slow—no calls came in, and no work needed to be done, apart from mountains of paperwork, which I finally dug into around two in the afternoon.
The next morning, I turned on my computer, ready to finish the paperwork from the day before. While there, I checked my email, glancing at the clock. Nicole and her friend would be arriving in an hour or so and I wanted to get in my walk with Sia before then. Yes, I walk my cat, and yes, she lets me. I even use a leash. I know—it’s odd.
My eyes widened when I saw an email from a man I used to know telling me he had a potential job for me. How did he know what line of work I’d gone into? And how had he gotten my email address?
Chapter Four
Abel was a guy I’d met several years ago. He was an Arete, though his case was very weird. Aretes generally only control the element that coincides with their hair color—red is Fire, blond is Air, light brown is Water, and dark brown or black is Earth—and once they learn all branches of elemental magic, their hair turns gray. Well, Abel had been born with gray hair, which meant that when he Restarted, he would have access to all the elemental powers from the beginning.
A Restart is when an Arete’s body adopts the magic that’s waiting for it. Most Aretes don’t Restart until around age eighteen.
I wondered if he’d had his yet. The last time I’d seen him, he was still magicless, even though he was at least twenty. He’d also been so emaciated that I really didn’t expect him to live much longer. Nicole and I had tried to help him, but he’d refused assistance and had disappeared. Obviously, he’d been able to find his way and had survived. I was happy for him.
What sort of job did he have for me? I sent off a quick response, asking for more information, then ate breakfast and got Sia ready for our walk.
We left the house, and I breathed in deeply the crisp, nearly summer air. It was going to be a gorgeous day. I waved at the Russells as I walked down my sidewalk. They lived in the home next to me on the north and were out doing yard work. They were an elderly couple—probably in their eighties—and the sweetest, nicest people I’d ever met. I’d helped them several times when the pilot light on their ancient water heater had gone out, and in return, they frequently invited me to dinner.
Once I’d had a good warmup, I picked up my pace, encouraging Sia to do the same. She wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic, but trotted faster anyway.
As someone who fights fire and potential disasters regularly, I’ve found that it’s important for me to keep up on my physical activity and fitness. Sia probably didn’t mind. We had to stop on 200 South at the train tracks—the railroad crossing was flashing, the arms coming down, and a train horn was sounding to the north. I smiled at Sia, watching as she got distracted by a spider. Someday, I would get that big dog. But for now, Sia was plenty.
She ate the spider, and I grimaced, turning away, doing my best to ignore the crunching soun
ds. The ground rumbled as the train drew closer. It was a slow one, and I looked up the tracks, trying to gauge if it was worth waiting for or if I should turn around and go home.
A movement on the other side caught my attention—a huge dog was chewing on something big, and there was blood. A lot of it. I instinctively put my hand on my waist near my concealed gun. I’d started carrying it after moving here and taking the position of Fire Impeder mainly because while I’d been in D.C., we’d run into many situations where active shooters would turn their guns on us. I would rather be the one who survived if it came down to that.
Not every Fire Impeder can stop every bullet.
I couldn’t tell what the dog had, so I stepped closer—still far from the railroad arm—and squinted. A man’s leg flopped into view and I gasped, hands flying to my mouth. What was going on?
The whole body twitched and jerked as the dog chewed it. I shrieked involuntarily, then cursed myself for not holding it in because the dog looked up at me.
I was close enough to hear it growl. Its eyes were dark, its teeth large and bright red from blood. It dropped the arm that was in its mouth and stepped toward me. I backed up. Common sense told me not to run, but I shook with the effort it took not to scramble in the opposite direction.
Sia hissed. Her fur stood on end, her tail three times its normal size. The dog growled again, then lunged toward us.
I pulled my 9mm CZ and shot at the dog, hoping doing so would stop it, but the creature kept barreling at us. Self-control out the window, I turned and ran, nearly stumbling on the gravel that lined the road. The train honked, and I glanced back as the dog stopped just in time to prevent getting hit by the train as it rumbled along, horn blazing. I pocketed my gun, picked up Sia, and ran as fast as I could. Trying to keep her calm while holding her that tight wasn’t easy, and her claws were probably ruining my shirt. I didn’t know if this would be a long train, but I wasn’t willing to risk the dog being able to find me.
The Shade Amulet Page 2