The Bloom Series Box Set: Bloom & Fade

by A. P. Kensey

  Haven had spent months digging up all the information she could on the Phoenix and Void energies—the two most powerful manifestations of Source and Conduit abilities. The lack of scientific explanation maddened her to no end. There were no books on the subject because no one wanted to risk the information falling into the wrong hands. Every bit of lore regarding Haven’s own kind was restricted to little more than campfire stories, passed verbally from one person to the next.

  As far as she could tell from her limited investigations, most Sources and Cons believed that the Phoenix and Void energies resided firmly in either one of two categories: spiritual or natural.

  Those who believed them to be spiritual imagined the Phoenix presence as a being of pure light, constantly shedding its energy into the world. The Void was a creature of absolute darkness, drawing life from others to sustain its own existence. Not everyone believed those descriptions were completely accurate, but Haven found they more or less summed up that school of thought.

  The other side of the argument was maintained by those who believed the energies to be naturally occurring—byproducts of evolution or flukes in the system, manifested organically for any number of reasons. Corva had a particularly interesting theory. She believed the Phoenix and Void energies were natural events and only occurred if certain criteria were met, much like the formation of a hurricane. If just one necessary requirement for the energies was slightly off—just as if the opposing winds that formed a hurricane were not quite the right temperatures, elevation, or strength—they were absent completely. There were periods in history where neither Void nor Phoenix seemed to be present. Yet if the perfect host environment existed, one of the two energies would bloom.

  Haven liked that idea the best, even though she could find no evidence to support it. There was no explanation about what kind of criteria must be present in order for the Phoenix or Void energy to take root. Also unexplained was the fact that the Void energy could be transferred and the Phoenix energy could not. Once Bernam had stripped Elena of her gift, he could not inherit her powerful ability, no matter how hard he tried. Whatever laws governed the Phoenix energy, it was clear they didn’t allow for any kind of forced manipulation.

  Yet Alistair had successfully stolen the Void ability from Bernam. The energy had not abandoned him after it was forcefully taken. Haven thought it spoke to the dark nature of the Void energy that it could be taken by one stronger than its host.

  She and Corva had talked about it for hours, discussing the possibilities as they stayed up late into the night, giggling like crazy after the conversation shifted to Colton and Marius.

  Haven smiled as she remembered.

  Concourse G ended in a cul-de-sac of boarding terminals. It was much quieter in that part of the airport. Haven used her last three dollars to buy a pathetically small bag of gummy bears and found an empty seat against the wall of her terminal. She put her backpack in the seat to her left and looked around. The digital screen over one of the kiosks said the plane had landed and would be ready for boarding soon. She crossed her legs and ate the gummy bears—first biting off the head of each, then eating the rest—one at a time while she waited for the attendant to announce the call for boarding.

  It hit her that she didn’t like being out in the so-called real world. She missed the Grove with its perfect rows of ancient trees, both alive and dead. The dead ones were a sign they had once been used to give life to someone like her—someone on the verge of death. Haven missed the loud meals in the meeting area in the middle of the dome room around the fire pit. She missed chasing her brother Noah and his friend Micah around the training room. Around her, in real world, no one was connected, even though technology told them otherwise. They used their phones and their computers as an excuse to keep people at distance even though they pretended the devices brought everyone closer together.

  Haven bit the head off another gummy bear and stopped. A man was staring at her from across the terminal. He had been looking her way for a while—which wasn’t too unheard of, even though she hadn’t been able to properly clean up after her little romp through the city chasing after Lee—but instead of the casual glances everyone gave each other at an airport, he stared directly at her.

  He sat at the terminal to the left of hers, in front of the large windows that looked out over the tarmac. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, had short-cropped red hair, fair skin, a black trench-coat, and no luggage. The sharp points of what was probably a much larger tattoo showed above his coat collar all around his neck like some kind of spiked necklace. He smiled at Haven and she looked away.

  Another man was staring at her from the terminal to the right. He was farther away but Haven could tell he was also young, with strong features and dark hair. He casually leaned back against the wall next to a row of seats with his arms crossed and one ankle resting on the other, looking right at Haven.

  “Hi,” said a voice to her left.

  Haven jumped and turned. The man with the red hair was sitting next to her with her backpack in his lap. His approach had been completely silent. She ripped her bag away and held on to it tightly but didn’t stand up. Instead she let a small flicker of blue flame show in her eyes.

  The man smiled easily, revealing small lines in his skin near the outside corners of his eyes which showed it was something he did often. “Atta girl,” he said with a Scottish accent. “I heard you had some spirit. Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you. My name’s Bastian.” He wasn’t offended when Haven didn’t offer her own name.

  “What about him?” she said, nodding toward the man standing against the wall.

  “He won’t hurt you either. But you see that guy over there?”

  Haven followed his pointing finger to a thin, older man wearing sunglasses, seated two rows away with his back to them.

  “So?”

  “You don’t recognize him?”

  “Should I?”

  Bastian smiled again. “This is fun, isn’t it? Question for question. You should know him, ay, considering he’s working for Alistair.”

  Haven looked at Bastian. She studied his face, confused. “Alistair’s dead,” she said softly.

  “No,” he said. “He most definitely is not.”

  6

  “But—but how is that possible?” asked Haven. “I brought a whole building down on his head!”

  “You and your friends did a number on him last year, no doubt about that. But he’s not what he used to be, in the worst kind of way. My problem is that nobody knows where he is.”

  “Are you here for me, or him?” asked Haven, nodding toward the thin man.

  Bastian smiled. “We started out looking for him. You’re just a wee bonus.”

  “You know what I am?”

  “I think I can recognize my own kind,” he said. He winked and a small flicker of pale yellow flame flashed across his eyes. Movement from the thin man two rows over caught his attention and Bastian looked over. The man shifted in his seat, crossed his legs, and opened a newspaper to the business page.

  “So you’re here for him,” said Haven. “Why is he here?”

  “He’s here for you,” said Bastian.

  “Why?”

  He hesitated. “You probably don’t want to know. Let’s just say it wouldn’t be fun if he caught you. But you can help me since you’re here.”

  Haven looked over at Bastian’s partner. He was standing away from the wall, eyes fixed on the thin man. “How?” she asked at last.

  “I’m looking for the Dome.”

  Blue flames danced in her eyes and her cheeks flushed red. “How do you know about that?” she demanded. Bastian held up his hands and leaned away.

  “Easy,” he said. “Easy there. I meant nothing by it. My partner and I—his name’s Roku, by the way—straight from Japan, doesn’t speak a lick of English.” Bastian couldn’t stop himself from laughing and Haven had a hard time staying angry. “Anyway,” continued Bastian, “we’re looking for more peop
le like us. Alistair’s building up his strength after his little run-in with someone powerful enough to put him down for a while and—”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t hear about that?”

  “I guess I’m a little out of the loop,” she said.

  “We don’t know what happened, but apparently Alistair battled with someone in western Australia last month. They pretty much wrecked thirty miles of coastline in the process. Supposedly it was a ‘gas leak’ from some nonexistent sulfur mine but the people in charge will say anything to stop a panic.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Like I said, no one knows. But the way I heard it from my folks, it takes a Nova to stop a Nova.”

  Haven hung on that word: Nova. Hybrid. A person with the gift of both Source and Conduit—able to create their own energy and expend it freely, without worry of overloading their system. The need for a counterpart was eliminated, meaning that—unlike normal Sources and Cons—a Nova did not have to rely on another person to reach their full potential.

  Haven’s little brother, Noah, was such a person, though still too young to utilize his ability.

  She realized Bastian was staring at her.

  “So, you know,” he said, “if you could maybe show us to the Dome so we could get some recruits, that would be great.”

  “Recruits?”

  “Och, weren’t you listening? You zoned out on me. Roku and I are going after Alistair. We’re going to take him down.”

  “But you’re not a Nova.”

  “Thanks fer noticin’. That’s why we need more help, right? I mean, Roku and I are tough guys, in case I haven’t mentioned it already, but not tough enough to handle Alistair on our own. He’s got his minions out in the world while he’s healing, wreaking all kinds of havoc in society. Mr. Skinny over there,” he said, wagging a finger at the thin man two rows away, “is just one of a dozen people running around, killing innocent bystanders and doing who-knows-what-else in Alistair’s name.”

  “I can’t take you to the Dome,” said Haven. “As long as no one knows where it is, it’s safe.”

  “Aw, you can’t leave me out in the cold like that,” said Bastian. “Why don’t you come with us, then?”

  “With you?”

  “Do ye have to sound so disgusted? Come with us. Help us put Alistair down for good.”

  Haven shook her head. “I made a promise and I have to go back. Alone. I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

  Bastian sighed heavily and looked at her. “Alright,” he said in defeat. “I had to try. To our lonely deaths we go, to lay our bones before the mighty dragon.”

  “Is that from a book?”

  “Just something I say every time Roku and I go off to fight the bad guy.” He paused thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll write a book someday. Well, nice to meet ye.” He held out his hand and after a moment of hesitation, Haven shook it.

  Like a camera flash in a dark room, images popped into her mind. Scenes of graphic violence in distant lands, of people she had never before seen. Bastian firmly gripped her hand and a burst of images played out like some hyperspeed slide show. One man was recognizable through every evil image—the thin man seated in the airport two rows away.

  Bastian released her hand and waited. Haven felt sick to her stomach. Her skin was pale and a thin sheen of sweat coated her body. She swallowed and her throat felt like it was coated with sandpaper.

  “What was that?” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” said Bastian, his voice genuine. “I piggybacked some of Roku’s memories when we touched. He’s a Conduit, see, and he’s figured how to send out basic images. He gave me some to hold on to in case you needed convincing. Pretty neat, right? Memories are energy, after all. Electrical impulses in the brain. I’m glad it worked—never really tried it before.”

  Haven looked at the thin man. Over the intercom, an attendant announced that her plane was boarding. It took great effort to decide to go back to Montana instead of staying for a while longer to fight the thin man and find Alistair, but she had to keep her promise and she didn’t want innocent people in the airport to die on her account. “What are you going to do to him?” she asked.

  “Stop him from hurting anyone else, any way we can.”

  “Here?”

  “No. When he leaves the terminal. Too many people around. Too much of a mess for Helix to clean up.”

  “Who’s Helix?”

  “You are out of the loop, aren’t you? It’s not a who, it’s a what. Helix Scientific is a watchdog organization disguised as a research think-tank. They keep an eye on people like us and clean up our messes to keep the news away from the public. They say it’s to keep us safe, ay, but there’s no way to really know. Roku and I used to work for them, but we quit. That doesn’t matter now. You have a plane to catch. Don’t worry, though. Mr. Skinny will have to deal with us before he tries for you.”

  “Why protect me if I won’t help you? You don’t even know me.”

  “All I have to know is that you’re good,” he said, then pointed to the thin man, “and he’s bad. It doesn’t get any easier than that. Not for me, anyway.”

  Haven stood and shouldered her backpack. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Too many people are depending on me.”

  Bastian’s smile was as genuine as his first. “You stay out of trouble, Haven Kincaid.”

  She walked toward the plane, only barely pausing in mid-stride when she realized he had used her full name, and that she had never given it to him during the conversation. Just before the attendant took her ticket and she stepped onto the gangway leading to the plane, Haven looked back.

  Bastian and Roku were both on their feet, walking in a slow circle around the seated thin man. He carefully folded his newspaper and set it aside, then took off his glasses and put them in his pocket. He stood and walked toward an exit on the other side of the terminal.

  Someone bumped into Haven from behind and apologized. When Haven looked back again, Bastian, Roku, and the thin man were gone.

  She waited in the long line on the gangway to board the plane. They always seemed to get everyone in line to wait standing up instead of staying comfortably in their seats until they could just walk on the plane. When she finally got on board, Haven took a right and headed away from First Class and into Coach, or “Regular Business Class” as the airline marketing gurus invented. The carefully-chosen phrase didn’t make her feel any more special when she had to sit in the middle seat between two bulky men who took up every inch of both armrests. Fortunately she didn’t take up much room herself, so Haven crossed her arms and settled back into her seat for the three hour flight to Montana.

  The plane pushed back from the jetway and rolled out to the runway. The engines whined to full power and Haven was pressed back into her seat as the plane accelerated. It was just barely possible for her to look over the man’s huge belly next to her to see the ground drop away. The plane banked to the right and, at the last second, just before the runway disappeared, she saw the thin man standing alone on the tarmac.

  He was looking right at her.

  Haven’s breath caught in her throat and she shrank back into her seat. She closed her eyes and tried to convince herself that she hadn’t seen him, but it was not her imagination. Every passing moment beat slower as she looked around the cabin. Children, mothers, fathers, grandparents, infants—there were so many people on board.

  The engine on her side of the plane stuttered once and slowed down, then spun back to full power. The passengers stopped talking and looked out the windows. The other engine whined as it lost power and the plane dipped to the left. People screamed as their loose belongings tumbled to that side of the plane. One woman who was walking to the bathroom fell across an aisle full of old men, who held her up while the plane continued its slow sideways roll.

  The overhead speakers crackled to life. “Uh, ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking.” His voice was more calm t
han it had a right to be. “Uh, we’re having some slight technical problems up here in the cockpit and if you’ll just bear with us, hopefully we can—

  His voice cut out when the second engine died.

  7

  There was a moment of brief silence as the plane hung in the air, both engines dead. The lights in the cabin blinked out and everyone screamed.

  The plane groaned as it glided through the air without power. It rolled to the right and Haven saw the ground rapidly approaching. They crossed over other runways as they drifted closer to the ground, picking up speed as they fell.

  Then they were back over solid tarmac as the tip of the right wing hit the ground. Haven saw it like it was happening in slow motion: the wing grinding into the tarmac inch by inch as the plane got closer to the ground. Then the tarmac vanished and a green blur of grass filled the tiny window. The right wing snapped off and the body of the plane hit the ground.

  Haven’s screams were drowned out by a chorus of screeches just loud enough to fight the horrendous groan of metal as the plane buckled. The nose dug deep into the ground as the body turned sideways and the plane started to roll. The left wing swung up over the plane and smashed down into the ground, snapping like a twig. The plane rolled over the wing and across the grass, like a long tube pushed down a steep hill. Oxygen masks popped down from the ceiling and slapped around wildly. Haven’s seat belt was tight or else she would have been tumbling around the cabin with a dozen other people. The overhead compartments popped open and luggage slammed around the cabin like rocks in a dryer.

  The body of the plane hit a large embankment and rolled up onto it—and stopped. There was a collective sigh of relief from the passengers who weren’t unconscious, and then another round of hopeless screams when the plane rolled slowly back down the embankment and came to a stop.

  Haven unbuckled her seat belt with shaking hands. The two men on either side of her were unconscious. She tried to shake them awake but they were out cold.