“As you know, the fourth child born to a man and woman is an Arete. It has always been this way, since time began. What you might not know is that it wasn’t always so difficult for parents to have three, four, and even eight children.”
Nicole raised her eyebrows and looked at Lizzie. “That’s a lot of kids.” She knew that her birth, like other Arete births, had been a miracle—her parents tried for several years to have her. Considering how much they feared her and other Aretes, Nicole had always wondered why they wanted a Fourth. Mother and Dad would never talk about it.
“Most families of today aren’t able to produce more than two children—a trend that began in the early nineteen hundreds.” Whitman paced before the students, hands clasped in front of her. “Does anyone know why that trend started?”
A boy on the third row raised his hand. “The Tarians. We don’t know how, since the technology didn’t exist back then, but they permanently altered the entire human race, gradually making it almost impossible for people to have more than one or two kids.”
Nicole knitted her eyebrows. She’d never heard of the Tarians. They sounded important—why had Lizzie never brought them up? Or her parents?
Professor Whitman nodded. “Yes, and the Arete population has dwindled extensively in the years since. Unfortunately for the Tarians, their numbers have also gone down. But their group has always been a small one, since most don’t support their genocidal, fascist views where Aretes are concerned.”
“What does Tarian mean?” a girl behind Nicole asked.
Several people turned and stared, and Nicole was glad she hadn’t asked the question herself.
“It’s short for Totalitarian,” Professor Whitman said. “Basically, they want control of the world and fear the Aretes will become too powerful.”
“Because we have!” a guy in the back shouted out.
Everyone chuckled, and Whitman grabbed the remote for the projector and clicked to the next slide. “As many of you have figured out by now, humans fear Aretes, but they also respect us.”
“Are you an Arete?” the same girl behind Nicole asked.
“Of course she is,” Lizzie whispered. “She’s teaching here, isn’t she?”
“Oh, I haven’t told you anything about myself.” Professor Whitman’s cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat. “I suppose I will, if you want it.” She set down the remote and started a lengthy introduction. She was from California. No kids, unmarried. She’d always had an interest in Arete history and had studied it in a small college in Mississippi before transferring to Katon. She’d acted as a teacher’s assistant here until she got her PhD and was hired on as an adjunct professor. Then, when the head of the history department retired, she became a full-time professor and took over his classes.
Whitman folded her arms. “They didn’t find it necessary for me to become department head, even after all the many years I’ve given the college and my extensive understanding of Arete history.” She pointed at the students. “The chance is small that any of you will ever accomplish what I have, but if you even want to try, you need to study our history. You need to completely understand what it means to be one of us.”
“But are you an Arete?” the same student asked.
Professor Whitman sputtered. “It’s enough that I’m your professor.” She turned her back on the class and yanked the remote from the table, ending the slideshow. Apparently, they were done with Arete history for the time being.
So, Whitman wasn’t an Arete, but it was obvious that her entire life revolved around them. It was, “we, us, our,” and nothing else.
Interesting.
The rest of the time, Professor Whitman discussed what they’d need to know for the midterm exam in October. Class was then dismissed, and Nicole headed to biology.
***
Later that evening, Nicole stared up at her apartment building before entering. The tall, redbrick structure was imposing, even in the rosy glow from the setting sun. A huge ash tree by the main doors didn’t help—it cast long, deep shadows across the front of the building. Nicole glanced at it, her attention drawn to the massive vines that smothered the trunk and branches.
She felt a slight pulse and frowned, head tilted. Magic? Coming from the tree? Not possible—only humans were magical. She stared at the mess of plants, trying to make sense of them, trying not to feel like she was in danger.
She could easily imagine them reaching out, strangling her.
“Stop it, Nicole,” she said, realizing she was obsessing too much over what Lizzie had told her about the deaths. “People die all the time—it’s normal. Some even die in places like this.” She couldn’t help but wonder if the deaths had been murders, though. She shuddered, ducking under the vines and jogging into the building. At least the apartment she shared with Lizzie was on the second floor. She’d hate to be on the main level, where just about anyone walking by could see into—and have access to—the windows.
If she could’ve afforded it, they would’ve moved already. Oh, her parents would probably be fine sending her a few thousand dollars a month, but she wasn’t okay with that. She’d learned at an early age that her parents loved manipulating their children through generous and frequent gifts of money. Nicole wanted—needed—independence. Her choices had to be her own. And if she paid for her own expenses, she was allowed that freedom.
As a result, she’d worked her tail off during junior high and high school, saving every spare penny to pay her own way through college.
The door to the apartment was unlocked already—Lizzie was home. Nicole locked it behind her after entering and hung her hoodie on the coat rack.
She kicked off her shoes and padded down the hall to her bedroom, passing the guest room on the way. Even though it was the biggest room in the apartment, neither girl had opted to use it. Mainly because the spiders seemed to like it the most. No matter what Nicole and Lizzie did, they couldn’t keep the creatures from getting inside. They’d ended up lining the walls with traps and shoving paper towels in the cracks around the door. Neither had gone inside since they’d moved in.
Nicole walked through at least two spider webs in her bedroom as she put her things away. “Yuck!” She flung her arms around, trying to get the stuff off her. “Lizzie, I hate living here!”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Lizzie’s voice was muffled by her shut door.
Nicole was tempted to move her bed into the living room—at least the spiders hadn’t decided to take over that area yet. She grabbed a blanket and went there, flopping onto the big leather couch she’d brought from home.
“What’s the matter?” Lizzie asked, entering the room with a cup in hand.
“Apart from the spiders and people dying here and not having a focus yet? Oh, I don’t know. I’ve just begun college and have no idea what I’m doing.”
Lizzie set her cup down and gave Nicole a hug. “You rocked high school—you’ll do just fine. I’m the one who should be freaking out. I’ve only had maybe one ‘A’ my whole life.” She picked up her cup again and took a drink. “Seriously, though. Don’t stress it.”
Nicole slumped against the couch. “How long will they let me attend before it dawns on them that I might never learn how to use my powers?”
“That won’t happen, I’m sure.”
Nicole groaned, not ready to give up her bad mood. “And besides, I really don’t want to go to my Intro to Wind class tomorrow. I mean, if I found my focus first, I wouldn’t have to, right?”
Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think the class is only there as a last resort for students who can’t Channel.”
“How much homework do you have?” Nicole asked.
“None—I already read the chapters Professor Whitman assigned.” She lowered her cup. “Why?”
“Someone in biology told me there’s a museum of magical items on campus. People are allowed to hold and touch things from one of the displays. He said he’s heard of at least one person who found his
focus that way.” She sat up straight and faced Lizzie. “Come with me?”
“When? Now?”
Nicole nodded.
A smile started growing on Lizzie’s face and Nicole found herself smiling as well. Trust Lizzie to be up for an adventure.
Then Lizzie hesitated. “Are you going to try to Channel without a focus? Like Austin?”
Nicole shook her head. “I don’t want to be Austin. I want to beat him, or at least prove that I can become as talented as he is. And I don’t have to go his way to do that.” She got up to get her jacket. “But I do need to be around magic as much as possible. Maybe something in the museum will rub off on me.”
Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “And being around me doesn’t count? Come on, girl, I’m the epitome of magic! Not only am I an Arete, but . . .” She laughed. “Okay, I got nothing.” She jumped to her feet. “Let’s go!”
It didn’t take long to find the museum. The tall white pillars which lined the front offset it from the other, gloomier buildings on campus. Nicole could tell there was something else different about it right away, though—the air around it was warmer. Lizzie didn’t seem to notice, and Nicole couldn’t figure out what was causing the warmth. She put it out of her mind once they got inside and began searching for the specific display she needed.
“What time do the doors close here?” Lizzie asked.
“Apparently not until ten—some of the professors have labs in the basement, and they teach classes upstairs.”
“Labs in a museum?” Lizzie chuckled. “That’s weird.”
“From what the guy was telling me, it’s not a normal museum. It’s like a science building with museum-type stuff. I don’t think they had enough things to fill the entire place.”
Nicole stopped at the correct table and looked at the display. It was simple. Too simple. A six-foot table in a large, empty hallway, covered with junk. A sign over the table said “handle with care.”
She stared at the pile of toy cars, Barbies, airplanes, and random household objects. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. Hardly anything attracted her magical senses. If they had powers, they didn’t have much.
“Kids’ toys? And junk?” Lizzie said skeptically. “Well, as long as they’re magically charged.” She glanced at Nicole. “Why don’t you go ahead?”
Nicole turned to her friend. “How am I supposed to know if one of them is my focus?”
Lizzie shrugged. “You know I’m still struggling with my own. I can’t really help you there.”
“Yeah, but you’ve at least found something that helps you produce magic.”
Lizzie took a deep breath and let it out. “I didn’t actually feel anything—it was my dance teacher who said dance was my focus, though she never gave a reason why. I still think my mom bribed her.”
Nicole chuckled. Lizzie’s mom was obsessed with the idea of having a daughter who danced. She’d forced Lizzie through lessons since the poor girl was four.
Nicole looked back at the table. “Can you sense anything from them? I can’t.”
“There’s a certain feeling here—in the hall. But I’ve never been good at picking out the pulsings everyone else senses.”
Nicole nodded. She’d never been good at it either.
She began rummaging through the huge pile, shifting aside toys and spatulas. After a moment, she felt heat radiating from deep under the other items. The minute both hands touched the source of heat, she felt a warm breeze cross her cheek, almost like a gentle touch.
Nicole . . .
She let go of the item and jerked back, hurriedly wiping the feeling of the caress off her face.
“Whoa!” Lizzie said. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you hear that?”
Lizzie shook her head. “I only saw you freak out. What did you touch? A rat?”
“No . . . I don’t know what it was. It was square—a book, maybe. But I’m not putting my hands in there again.”
“Here, let me.”
Lizzie pushed through the pile, uncovering the object at the very bottom. It was the same leather book from class—one of the items Judith Ann and Austin had arranged. The one that had made Nicole want to steal it.
How had it been warm? And why did Nicole hear her name when she touched it? Her palms began sweating—she wiped them on her jeans, noticing that her hands were shaking. The book couldn’t be good if it spoke to her and made her nervous.
“This isn’t some kid’s toy,” Lizzie said, staring at the cover. “Do you want to try it? Obviously, you had a reaction to it. It might be your focus. I’ve heard of Wind Aretes who had to ruffle pages of a book to Channel their magic.”
Nicole shook her head, keeping her arms behind her back. “No.” She hesitated. “Lizzie . . . I, uh . . . I heard my name when I touched it. Like a whisper.”
Lizzie looked at her. “Are you serious?” She put the book down and stepped away. “That can’t be good.”
“Was it warm?” Nicole asked. “It felt warm to me.”
Lizzie knitted her eyebrows and shook her head. “That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Cover it up, okay? I don’t want to see it again. I’ll start at the other end of the table.”
Lizzie got to work and Nicole didn’t approach the table again until her friend gave the go ahead.
She took a deep breath and picked up a bright red sports car. She turned it back and forth, gazed into its little windows, and spun its tires. She waved it through the air, hoping some sort of magic would come to life from the wind friction.
“Anything?” Lizzie asked.
Nicole shook her head. “I don’t even know what’s supposed to happen. I mean, it’s just a toy.”
Someone chuckled behind them, and both girls turned. Professor Coolidge was walking toward them, holding a briefcase, followed by Austin. Nicole hid an eye roll. Apparently, Austin was becoming the teacher’s pet. Totally predictable.
Coolidge reached for the car and peered at it for a moment, then handed it to Austin, who promptly set it down. Oh, that’s right. He was better than Coolidge. Arrogant jerk.
“Whoever charged it did a pathetic job,” Austin said, his dark eyes turning to Nicole.
“I’m sure they did the best they could,” she said, scowling.
Coolidge glanced at Nicole, seemingly unaware of the conversation. “When was your birthday?”
She felt redness creep up her cheeks. “Six months ago.” How long would it take for her to get over the fact that she couldn’t control this part of her existence? Stupid embarrassment. Stupid Austin witnessing her stupid embarrassment.
“You still can’t Channel. I’m sorry you haven’t been able to yet.”
“So is she,” Lizzie said. “Belieeeve me.”
That made Coolidge laugh and Nicole want to murder her best friend. She flicked her gaze toward Austin and noticed a slight smile on his face. Was he mocking her, or enjoying the humor behind Lizzie’s comment?
Nicole turned to the other objects on the table, being careful not to look where the leather book was hiding. She didn’t want to see it again. “Is it really obvious that I haven’t found my focus?”
Coolidge nodded. “There’s quite a buildup of pressure around you that’s begging to be released. It’s like bright, swirling light to the trained eye.”
“No wonder everyone was staring at me today.”
Coolidge chuckled. “It’s pretty blatant.” He tilted his head. “There are exceptions to this—Austin, for example—but you do know that Restart time, in relation to finding a focus, doesn’t matter, right?”
Nicole whipped back to him, noticing that even Lizzie looked surprised. “What? You’re serious?”
“I’ve never heard that before,” Lizzie said skeptically, as if she were the expert on all things Arete.
Austin didn’t seem to be surprised at all. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, surveying Nicole, Lizzie, and Coolidge. Nicole straightened, h
oping her makeup looked okay. Of course, as soon as she thought that, she felt silly. Why did she want to impress Austin? He was rude and conceited, as she’d already figured out.
Professor Coolidge smiled at Lizzie’s skepticism. “The average Arete Restarts close to his or her birthday and discovers their required focus not long after. Contrary to popular opinion, earlier Restarts, which lead to finding a focus sooner, don’t necessarily make people more powerful. The amount of work they put into their gift is what brings the greatest power.
“Yes, a lot of it does depend on genes and talent, but hard work will actually get an Arete further in their powers than someone who learned to Channel young. It’s like that with nearly everything in life. Just because someone is a talented singer doesn’t mean they’ll go anywhere with it. A person with a measly amount of talent, strong work ethic, and the desire to achieve will more likely go places.”
Nicole felt tears spring into her eyes. She was a hard worker—always had been. When her powers finally manifested themselves, she would jump into everything with both feet. She would become the most powerful Wind Arete ever. She would make her parents proud to have her as a daughter.
She stared at the items on the table, willing herself not to cry in front of two men who were practically strangers. Coolidge seemed kind-hearted, but Austin would most definitely see it as weakness.
Coolidge stepped away. “I didn’t Restart until I was nineteen, and even after that, it took two years to find my focus.”
Nicole’s mouth popped open. Was he serious? How was that possible?
He and Austin turned and headed toward a set of staircases at the end of the hall. He paused and looked back. “What are you doing here?”
Nicole frowned. “Um . . . Trying to find my—”
Coolidge waved her off. “No, not you.” He strode to the table, rummaged through the stuff, and pulled out the leather book. He glanced at the girls. “I’m surprised I didn’t notice its magical print earlier.” He took the book with him to the stairs, where Austin waited, and together, the men jogged down, leaving Nicole and Lizzie to stare at each other.
Discern (Mosaic Chronicles Book 1) Page 3