Ava laughed as she picked up her feet and let the swing spin one way, then the other, before bouncing to a jerky stop. “It’s a lot to take in. I know.”
“How did you deal with it?”
Ava smiled and shrugged. “Not well, to be honest.”
“I just . . . I’ve gone through my whole life knowing who I am—who I thought I was. Even if that person wasn’t perfect. Even if that life wasn’t perfect. And now . . .”
Ava pushed off the ground and started to swing. “And now you feel like you don’t know who you are. You don’t even feel like you’re in control of your own life. Like you’re some pawn in this global chess game and somebody else is running the board.”
“Yes!” Sophie exclaimed, shoving with her feet and leaning back as she matched Ava’s rhythm. “It’s frustrating. Disconcerting.”
“Terrifying.”
Sophie didn’t respond, dropping her gaze to the ground.
They glided back and forth for a while with nothing but echoing squeaks from the swings’ chains and the sweep of their feet on the gravel breaking the silence.
“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do,” Sophie said finally, her voice almost a whisper.
“What do you want to do?”
Sophie’s gaze sharpened. “Like I have a choice?”
“Of course you have a choice.” Ava planted her feet and faced her sister, a kind of indignant rage simmering up her spine. “Nobody is going to make you do anything,” she said. “You are in charge here. This is your life. It doesn’t matter who your father is or where you came from. Borré may have mixed up some crap in a petri dish, but that is not you.”
Sophie straightened, her chin lifting. “And if I decide to go home? To pretend all this never happened?”
Ava sighed. “Well, you have that option.” She shrugged.
“But this Council will find me eventually. Or the Rogues.”
“Most likely.” Sophie’s despondency and confusion raced across their link, and Ava hastened to reassure her. “Right now, right here, you’re safe.”
“It’s not all about me.”
“They’ll find Isaiah. He’ll be okay.”
“And then what?” Sophie’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears in the moonlight. “What will we do?”
Ava yanked off a glove and reached out to take Sophie’s hand, feeling her power in the touch. “You’ll decide if you want to ask Gideon to protect you. He’ll keep you and Isaiah together in a safe house and then, hopefully, if we get this alliance with the Council, you’ll be able to stay in New Elysia until this is all over.”
Sophie clenched her jaw. “Or?”
“Or.” Ava squeezed her hand and released it. “Or you fight. You come with us when we try to take down Borré and the Rogues. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
Sophie nodded and swiped at her eyes. “I don’t like the idea of hiding, but I need to protect my brother.”
“He’ll be safe. No matter what you decide, he’ll be safe. You can trust these people.”
Sophie took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, first things first, right? What can you tell me about this block?”
Ava frowned, remembering the moment Emma lifted her block in this very same spot—the feeling of power. Of freedom.
Before it all went so wrong.
“Gideon says we’ll need to find someone to lift it the rest of the way. Hopefully, there will be someone in New Elysia.”
“Does it hurt?”
Ava swallowed, unsure if she should tell her sister the whole story. “Not really. Not when it’s lifted.”
Sophie raised a brow. “But?”
Ava chewed on her lip, debating. “I need to tell you this. You need to know what you’re getting into. But I have to ask—this has to stay between us, at least for now, okay?”
Sophie half laughed. “Who am I going to tell?”
“Just . . . nobody can know. Not even Caleb. Not yet.”
Sophie’s eyes were dark in the dim light of the moon, and Ava couldn’t even see the hazel gold that matched her own. But they were earnest, honest, when Sophie said, “All right.”
Ava cleared her throat, unsure where to start. “Since the block’s been lifted, I’m able to do . . . a lot. A lot more than before. It freed up all my Race gifts, and they’re, well, not to toot my own horn, but they’re pretty incredible.” She grinned, and Sophie returned the gesture. “But there’s something wrong, too.”
Sophie sobered. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure why exactly, but I get these headaches . . . nosebleeds. It’s only when I push myself, use my gifts too much, for the most part. Although, lately, it seems to be getting worse.”
“And you think . . . you think the same thing will happen to me?”
“I don’t know. Not really,” Ava replied. “But Emma said—she told me that Borré could stop it. That it happened to the others, but he could help.”
“The others. You mean the others like us?”
Ava nodded. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. I haven’t told anybody what Emma said. Only Talia, the Guardian healer, knows how bad my symptoms have gotten. She’s been helping me manage them.”
“But you said Gideon is trustworthy. Shouldn’t you tell him? Maybe he could—”
“No. He can’t.” Ava yanked herself to her feet and kicked at the gravel. “He’s already said whatever’s happening to me is beyond what they can deal with here. My only hope for answers is in New Elysia. Their medical facilities are better. They have doctors there who might be able to figure things out.”
“And if they can’t?” Sophie watched her intently, obviously expecting the answer.
“Then the only one who can help me—help us, possibly—is Elias Borré,” she said. “So, in more ways than one, it looks like we’re in this together.”
Chapter 5
“Focus on the leaf. See each rib, each vein.” Audrey’s soothing familiar voice lulled Ava as she guided Sophie through the training exercise. It wasn’t long ago that Ava had done the same thing, although sometimes it seemed as though it had been another lifetime.
Everything in the Colony was sparse and efficient, and the living quarters were no exception. Ava sat at the kitchen table of the small eat-in off Audrey’s humble living room, quietly observing. Caleb had disappeared before dawn, so she’d agreed to go with Sophie, not only to distract herself from wondering where he was but also for moral support. Ava seemed to be failing at that, however, as Sophie threw her hands up after only a few minutes.
“It’s not working. I don’t see anything. Just a stupid leaf.” She tossed the offending flora onto the table to emphasize the point.
“It didn’t work for me either, at first,” Ava said. “You have to be patient.”
The room chilled, and Ava tucked her hands up into the sleeves of her sweater. “You need to get a handle on that, too, by the way,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.
Sophie took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and the cold dissipated. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Ava replied, reaching out to touch her arm briefly. “Your control’s getting better already.”
“She’s right,” Audrey said with an encouraging smile. “Pyros and cryos typically have more difficulty with their gifts since they are so closely tied to their emotional state. You’re really doing very well.”
“But that’s it.” Sophie sat back in her chair and picked up the leaf, twirling it in her fingers. “I have my freeze ray, or whatever, but nothing else that you say I should have. No super senses or speed or strength. I’m just a human air conditioner.”
“For now,” Ava said. “Once the block is lifted—”
“If the block is lifted,” Sophie interjected.
“If the block is lifted,” Ava relented. “You’ll probably get it all. Like me.”
They exchanged a significant look, both realizing exactly what that entailed.
> “Perhaps we should set this aside for a bit,” Audrey said, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “You’re making progress with your cryokinetic ability, so maybe we should focus on that.” She stood up and motioned toward the door. “Not in here, though. I’d prefer to keep any snowstorms out of doors, if you please.”
Sophie rolled her eyes but the tension in her shoulders eased, and the three of them grabbed their coats and made their way outside toward the training field.
The field had been cleared of blocks and cones—even the obstacle course had been dismantled in anticipation of the Colony move. The damage Ava had wrought when she’d first unveiled her power had been cleaned up for the most part, the fence repaired and grass starting to grow over the cracks in the ground, but she still felt a wave of guilt when she walked through the gate.
Audrey seemed to sense her discontent and reached out to squeeze her hand. “No point living in the past,” she said quietly as they reached the center of the field, and she turned her attention to Sophie. “All right, your gift seems to be threefold. You can affect the temperature around you. You can apparently condense the moisture in the air, creating miniature snowstorms, for lack of a better word.”
“Don’t forget the ice balls,” Ava said, grinning at Sophie. “Those are pretty awesome, you know, when they’re not flying at your head.”
Sophie laughed, deep and loud. “Well, that’s more of a reflex, actually.”
“And that’s what we need to work on,” Audrey said. “I’ve only worked with a couple of cryos, but like most Race gifts, it comes down to focus.”
“Like the leaf?” Sophie asked skeptically.
“Yes, like the leaf. Don’t look at me like that.” Audrey clapped her hands together once. “Let’s start small. Adjusting the temperature right around you, perhaps?”
“Just like that,” Sophie muttered.
Ava laughed. “You sound like me. It sounds harder than it actually is. You have to become familiar with your gift, learn to recognize it. You should feel it inside you. Mine’s kind of like a tingle.”
“Yeah,” Sophie said slowly. “I think I know what you mean.”
“Try to feel it.” Ava took her hand. “I’m going to use my gift to try to help you. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Try to be calm. Your gift wants to work for you. So try to just . . . let it.”
It took a while, but Sophie was finally able to lower and raise the temperature around them with more control and even create a light snowfall.
Sophie’s power stirred under Ava’s fingers—different than her own, or even Emma’s—and she began to understand the uniqueness of each person’s Race signature.
They tried for the ice balls, but seemed to hit a wall.
“Maybe we’re going at this wrong,” Audrey said, rubbing at her chin. “I want you to think back. How do you feel when you create these ice balls?”
Sophie’s eyes narrowed as she concentrated. “Panicked. Afraid. Kind of . . . I don’t know . . . trapped?”
“Like you’d run away if you could?”
“Yes.” Her eyes lit up. “It only happens when I can’t. Run away, I mean. Like when Caleb and Ava came for me. I knew I couldn’t run or they’d catch me, but I couldn’t get to my car in the garage.”
“So you fought back the only way you knew how.” Audrey nodded, a small smile on her face. “It makes sense. Your gift was simply trying to protect you, even if you didn’t do it consciously.”
Sophie deflated. “So how do I do it consciously, then? It’s not like I can make myself feel threatened if I’m not.”
Ava held out her hand and reached for her gift. In a moment, an apple formed, shimmering into existence in her palm. She smiled at Sophie’s sharp inhale and tossed the apple to her.
She fumbled with it a moment before examining it closely. “It looks real,” Sophie murmured.
“It is real,” Ava said. “If I’m understanding this right, what I do and what you do really aren’t that different.” She looked to Audrey for confirmation, and the older woman nodded in encouragement.
Ava reached for the apple and it disappeared, the molecules transforming back into thin air. “You need to picture in your mind what you want to happen,” she said. “See the ice forming around you. Visualize it flying toward your target.”
Sophie closed her eyes and tried, but nothing happened. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “It’s different, somehow. I can’t seem to make it happen.”
“It might be the block.” Audrey rubbed her bottom lip as if she were considering all the possibilities.
Ava stared at Sophie, gaining her focus once more with a long, slow exhale, turned, and strode away, whirling back to face her when she was halfway across the field. She eyed a soccer ball tucked in a box next to the shed and reached for her gift.
The ball flew across the yard and into Sophie’s stomach.
“Hey!” she shouted, clutching at her belly.
“If you can’t access it any other way, we’ll have to work with what you’ve got,” Ava shouted back. “Try not to think about it too hard.” She picked up the ball again, drew it back toward herself, and let it fly at Sophie once again.
The other girl ducked, and the ball flew past her to bounce on the grass.
Audrey moved to the side to watch. “It’s a reflex,” she told Sophie. “You said it yourself. So let it happen.” She turned to Ava. “I think you need more of a threat.”
Ava grinned and used her gift to pull a few more balls from the box. The soccer ball joined the group, whirling around Ava in a wide circle. “I’m going to send them your way,” she told Sophie. “You ready?”
Sophie squared her shoulders. “Ready.”
“Don’t overdo it,” Audrey warned.
Ava waved her off with a grin.
It wasn’t pretty.
Ava started off slow, lobbing balls toward Sophie and hitting her about half the time. At Audrey’s insistence, she increased the pace and the impact, but Sophie simply dodged the balls, or got hit by them.
Finally, Audrey huffed in frustration and went to stand behind the girl, pinning her arms to her side with her Race strength. “Don’t fight it. Now there’s nothing you can do to avoid the hit, so you either need to take it, or fight it off.”
Sophie gritted her teeth, and the air chilled as Ava lifted the balls once again. She tossed the soccer ball and laughed when a gust of heavy wind blew it off course.
“That’s it!” Audrey exclaimed, tucking her face behind Sophie’s back to protect it. “A little harder, Ava!”
Ava followed instructions, and this time, the gust came right toward her, shoving her back a step. She shivered at the icy wind but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Try to focus it on the balls, okay? I don’t want frostbite!”
Sophie laughed but seemed to take the advice in stride.
When the gust focused into a spray of icy fog followed by a piece of marble-sized hail, the little group erupted in cheers.
Sophie collapsed onto the grass. “I’m exhausted. How do you guys keep doing this?”
“It gets easier with time,” Audrey said.
“And as you get more familiar with your gift. Not to mention when the block—” Ava jolted, her whole body spinning toward the gate as she felt Caleb approach. Not only Caleb . . . Tiernan, too, and Gideon, and someone . . . else. Someone unfamiliar.
So close and I didn’t even notice.
The thought left her oddly unsettled.
“What is it?” Sophie got to her feet and moved to Ava’s side, watching carefully until the gate creaked open and drew her attention.
Caleb, Tiernan, and Gideon filed in, along with a teenage boy—tall, black, and gangly—who seemed somehow familiar. Ava wasn’t certain if it was his appearance or his gift that sparked recognition deep within her.
Sophie gasped. “Isaiah?”
She ran across the field, and the boy’s eyes widened as his step faltered b
efore he dashed toward her. They met in the middle and embraced, a chorus of, “What are you doing here?” and “Are you okay?” filling the air.
“Isaiah?” Audrey whispered.
“Sophie’s brother,” Ava replied, unable to pull her eyes from the tearful reunion. “My brother.”
Audrey took her hand and squeezed it gently as they walked toward the little group.
Ava eyed Tiernan and Caleb. “I take it this is where you disappeared to?”
Caleb leaned down to kiss her, his palm warm on the back of her neck. “Sorry. It was before dawn, and Gideon was worried Tiernan might need my help.”
“I had everything under control,” Tiernan grumbled.
“Just a precaution.” Gideon’s response left no room for argument.
It didn’t keep Tiernan from glaring at him, however.
“So what’s going on here?” the Guardian leader asked, clearly ignoring the look.
“We’re working with Sophie, trying to help her hone her gift,” Audrey replied.
“And?”
“It’s going well, actually,” she said. “Only the cryokinesis right now, but she seems to be gaining some control.”
“Really?” Gideon glanced at Sophie. “Do you think I could see? I haven’t seen a cryo in action for more than twenty years.”
Ava eyed her sister and saw how tightly she clung to her brother’s hand. “Maybe this can wait.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sophie said quickly. “Now that I know Isaiah’s safe, I need to make sure he stays that way. I need to be able to protect him—both of us.”
“Hey!” Isaiah elbowed her. “I can take care of myself.”
“Hush, now,” she said with a smile, and his returning grin showed it was a frequent admonishment in the past. “Watch this. You’re going to love it.”
Isaiah looked a bit confused, but the smile didn’t leave his face as his sister turned to Audrey expectantly.
“You ready?” she asked.
Audrey frowned for a moment. “Perhaps Isaiah would be a better choice,” she said, eyeing the boy. “If you’re protecting him, it might even be more motivation.”
Sophie looked her brother over from head to toe, took his hand, and led him to the center of the field.
The MORE Trilogy Page 53