Nicole shook her head and explained her theory about bed legs and cans of water.
The girls dumped the chocolate into gallon-sized Ziploc bags, sealed them up, and rinsed the empty containers. They put the cans under each leg and filled them with water, then stood back to admire their work.
“I still don’t understand how it’s supposed to help,” Lizzie said.
“In theory, it should keep the spiders from crawling up. They’ll fall into the water and drown.”
Lizzie shivered. “Sick.” She turned to Nicole, a worried expression on her face. “But spiders have webs—they drop from the—”
Nicole held up her hand. “Stop. I can’t hear it right now. I’m not going to be able to sleep as it is.”
Lizzie hesitated, then hugged Nicole and went back to her own room. Nicole padded to the kitchen and grabbed the vacuum cleaner again, just in case. She examined every crevice of her room, but there weren’t any more spiders. Had they received the memo? Maybe so. She left the vacuum cleaner by her bed, hoping she wouldn’t need it later.
As expected, sleep didn’t come quickly. She tossed and turned for what felt like hours, trying not to think about the spiders that probably surrounded her. A dull headache started to build at the base of her skull. She should’ve gotten up to take painkillers, but she was too tired.
The ringing of her cell phone woke her the next morning, and she groggily answered.
“How are you feeling?” Lizzie asked. “I didn’t want to ask when I left for campus—it was way early.”
Nicole rubbed her neck. “Just a headache, but otherwise, I’m fine.” She regretted not taking the medicine. The pounding at the back of her head made her nauseated, and on top of that, she was groggy and stiff from not sleeping. Stupid spiders.
“You’re still in bed, aren’t you? Girl, do you know what time it is?”
Nicole glanced at the clock, then jolted to a sitting position, headache forgotten. She’d missed her alarm. Math started in half an hour. It would take ten minutes to drive to campus and fifteen to walk to class.
“Gotta go.” She ended the call and dropped her cell on the nightstand.
Nicole jumped from her bed and tripped over the vacuum cleaner she’d left on the floor the night before, breaking the cheap thing open and spilling its contents everywhere. Spider carcasses rolled across the wood, and hundreds of the critters that were still alive scattered in every direction.
Nicole sprang off the ground and onto her bed, barely getting out of the way of a particularly large spider. She bit her lips, trying not to scream in frustration as she watched the eight-legged beasts disappear behind her furniture and under the closet door.
Why were these things happening to her?
Her head pounded in response, reminding her that she needed to take those painkillers and get going. Precious seconds had been lost.
Nicole dashed into the bathroom, holding her head with one hand, and did a onceover on her teeth and hair. She hurriedly put on some mascara, then ran back into her room, yanking off her pajamas along the way. She snatched up the closest clothes she could find—the ones she’d been wearing yesterday—and shook them out. No spiders.
Hopefully no one, including Lizzie, would notice the repeat outfit.
Realizing there was no way she’d want to come home to the mess on her floor, she ran to the hall closet, wheeled out the big vacuum cleaner that belonged to their landlord, and sucked up the carcasses. She then put both vacuum cleaners away.
Nicole downed some painkillers with a glass of milk and grabbed a banana and a piece of bread to eat on the way to campus. She yanked her arms into her jacket and zipped it up, then snatched her purse from the couch, making sure to put her phone and keys in it, and dashed out into the pouring rain.
***
Twenty minutes later, Nicole sank into her seat in math class, about ready to pass out from having to rush in the muggy, rainy weather. Her lungs would never get used to how damp the air was here. She said hi to Lizzie and silenced her phone while Lizzie continued a conversation with the brunette she’d talked to last time.
The teacher—whatever his name was—began class by doing another review of the order of operations.
Boring.
Nicole read a book on her phone instead of listening.
The bell finally rang and she and Lizzie rushed through the doors, following the flow of traffic. Nicole tilted her head when they got outside. The magical vibrations of campus were stronger today—strong enough to catch her attention.
She held her hands out, feeling the air as they walked. She knew Lizzie wouldn’t care or think twice about her behavior—it was something Nicole always did. She’d been trying to train herself to sense the pulses better, but it was often hard to tell the difference between wind and magic manifesting itself. The sensation of the current flowing over her made her skin tingle. Yes, things were stronger today. Why? Was it because more students were on campus now that school was in full swing?
They arrived at Magical Items throughout History and took their seats on the second row. Professor Coolidge began class with a reminder about the info session later that day for the Arches expedition.
Nicole grinned, glancing at Lizzie. “You sure you don’t want to come?”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Positive,” she whispered.
Nicole smiled and leaned back in her chair, listening to Coolidge’s lecture on a magical bowl that was thousands of years old while imagining herself enjoying the warmth and sun at Arches National Park.
***
The classes after Coolidge’s took forever to pass, and Nicole distracted herself by focusing on the faint magical pulsings she could sometimes sense from other people. As she’d learned earlier, most Arete students had a very slight energy source, some stronger than others. She wasn’t sure exactly how she was feeling those, since they weren’t strong enough to wash over her like they had earlier. Maybe the feeling was centered in her brain?
Asking Lizzie didn’t help—Lizzie still couldn’t sense the difference between Aretes and non-Aretes. To her, they were all the same.
“How come I can sense the pulses better than you?” Nicole asked as the two settled into their seats in Professor Whitman’s class. “I Restarted long after you did—it doesn’t make sense.”
Lizzie shrugged. “I’d guess it’s because you actually try to be an Arete. Everything you’ve done over the past several months has probably strengthened your abilities.”
“Kind of like what Professor Coolidge was saying.” Nicole tucked her purse under her chair and leaned back in her seat. “I feel bad about it. You hate being behind.”
“You of all people know that I’ve never planned to do anything with my abilities,” Lizzie said, watching as Whitman wrote something on the board. “I’ve always wanted to be a nurse. You’re the one with the big dreams.”
Nicole nodded. She’d tried many times over the years to convince Lizzie that with her heritage—a grandmother who was an Arete—she could actually become very powerful. But Lizzie wasn’t interested in the Arete world. Not like Nicole, anyway. Nicole wanted to get involved. She wanted to use her powers in whatever career she chose. She wanted her career to be based on her powers.
She glanced up in time to see Austin enter the room. His eyes searched the students, settling on her. He didn’t break eye contact until he’d chosen a seat on the same row, several chairs to the side. Why would he do that? He’d already made it obvious that he couldn’t stand her, that he felt like she was below him. Was he trying to make her uncomfortable? Totally not possible—Nicole had been in much more awkward situations before.
“We’re talking about Silvers today,” Lizzie said, looking at the purple syllabus.
Grateful for the distraction, Nicole opened her syllabus to check for herself. She settled back into her chair and closed her eyes. Sleepiness washed over her. “Sounds thrilling.”
“No—it should be interesting to you. My dad was t
rying to explain to me once what happens when an Arete’s hair turns gray, but I never fully understood. It has to do with hormones and physics and anatomy—”
“How did the anatomy part not interest you, Ms. Future Nurse?”
“Oh, nurses don’t really need to understand anatomy.”
Nicole’s jaw dropped. “Tell me you’re kidding.” She grabbed Lizzie’s arm. “Because if you’re not, you’re going to be very disappointed with nursing school.”
Lizzie’s grin showed that she knew better, and Nicole shook her head at her friend’s teasing. “You are so evil.”
Professor Whitman called the class to order and stepped forward, tucking a strand of wayward hair behind an ear. It didn’t do any good—all of her hair was wayward.
“Who in here can tell me what a Silver is?”
Lizzie’s hand shot up, and Whitman called on her. “A Silver is an old Arete,” Lizzie said.
Whitman nodded, “Yes, sometimes true. But there’s more to it than that.”
Nicole glanced at Austin—she was positive he knew the answer, but his stoic expression made it obvious that he didn’t plan on saying anything.
Whitman gave up waiting. “A Silver can actually be an Arete of nearly any age. As Aretes learn more and push themselves further in their education and abilities, their hair naturally turns gray.”
She pushed a button on a projector remote, and a picture of the brain popped up. Using the laser pointer, she indicated a small section toward the center.
“This is the pineal gland. Its main function, in most humans, is to secrete hormones. But for the Arete, there’s more to it than just that. Scientists now believe that an Arete’s powers originate in his or her pineal gland. The stronger the Arete, the more hormones their gland secretes, and the faster their hair turns white.”
Nicole frowned and raised her hand. “I thought the pineal gland secreted sleep hormones. How does it make hair turn gray?”
She glanced at Austin. His expression wasn’t so grumpy anymore—he actually looked a little tiny bit interested. She hoped she’d sounded intelligent.
Whitman put her hands behind her back and paced the carpet. “Because Aretes aren’t normal humans, the brain doesn’t work exactly the same for us—the pineal gland secretes more than just melatonin. Scientists are still trying to figure out exactly what’s going on that makes Aretes have powers while regular humans do not.”
She motioned to the rest of the students. “How many of you are taking Professor Coolidge’s class on magical items?”
Pretty much everyone raised a hand.
“If you look carefully, you’ll notice that he dyes his hair.”
Nicole snorted to herself. This woman’s obsession with Aretes was ridiculous. Did she go around campus inspecting hair all day?
“That’s it,” Lizzie whispered. “I’m coming with you to the information session. I have to check out his hair close up.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. Only Lizzie would “have” to do something like that.
Her thoughts returned to Professor Whitman’s statement. The woman was probably right—Coolidge had very dark hair, and being one of the world’s most powerful Aretes, he’d be completely white by now. But why hide it? Nicole wouldn’t—she’d proudly display her silver hair.
‘Course, she’d be lucky at this rate to go gray at all.
Chapter Three
Lizzie got her chance to check Coolidge’s hair fairly soon. The class that was using the auditorium hadn’t let out yet when they arrived for the info session, and Professor Coolidge waited near the doors with the students.
Lizzie pushed her way through the crowd, dragging Nicole, who casually looked around for Austin. There he was, leaning against the wall about twenty feet away. Oh, and of course Judith Ann was there as well. Nicole recognized a couple of other students, but couldn’t remember their names. She turned her attention to Lizzie, who’d engaged Coolidge in conversation.
“So, Nicole found her focus yesterday, but it didn’t work. Does that happen often?”
He shook his head. “No, not usually.”
Lizzie peered at him and gasped, hands to her mouth. “You do dye your hair!”
Several students turned, and Coolidge sighed in exasperation. “Did you have Professor Whitman today?”
Lizzie nodded, lowering her hands.
Coolidge glanced heavenward. “Great.” Then, obviously wanting to change the topic, he looked at Nicole. “It seems we’ll be working together outside of class this semester.” He folded his arms, briefcase dangling from one hand. “Cello, huh?”
She shrugged, not surprised that Professor Peterson had already contacted him. “Apparently. But as Lizzie already told you, it doesn’t really work for me.”
He nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll figure something out. I’ve got two other students who meet with me on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I’ll have you join us. I’ve already emailed you the details.”
The doors to the auditorium swung open and a deluge of students flooded out, separating Lizzie and Nicole for a few moments. Nicole was still near Coolidge and turned to him, blurting out a question. “I can sense pulses from other students, but my friend, who Restarted months before me, can’t. Why?”
“You’re more determined.” He nodded at Nicole and disappeared into the room.
Nicole followed at her own pace. She hoped he was right—he had to be. But if she was already ahead of Lizzie, why could Lizzie Channel, when she couldn’t?
The two friends found each other and took their usual seats. Many students from other sections joined them, and Nicole groaned to herself. She wasn't competing just against her class to go on the expedition, but against pretty much every undergrad on campus—Professor Coolidge taught many, many classes. What had she gotten herself into?
Coolidge turned on the projector and hesitated before putting his hands on the desk and looking out over the students. “We’ll go over the schedule momentarily, but first I need to emphasize again that the expedition will be dangerous. My colleagues disagree with me, but I don’t want to be caught ill-prepared. I’m bringing weapons, including guns and knives. The fact that several people—two this week—have gone missing can’t be ignored.”
Nicole and Lizzie met eyes. Nicole hoped Professor Coolidge’s feelings were off. She wanted to go, but had no desire to end up in a deadly situation.
Coolidge waved his hand. “Oh, the authorities have always attributed it to one thing or another. Indian attacks and difficult weather in the earlier years, lost hikers and camping gone wrong in later ones. But as technology and search and rescue operations have advanced, authorities are no longer finding easy ways to explain away the disappearances. People do get stranded in the occasional storm, yes, or even while camping. But entire families? And when was the last time a group of Native Americans attacked?”
The students chuckled and Professor Coolidge smiled. He waited for a moment, eyes scanning the group, then sat on the desk. “I hesitate bringing this up because I don’t want to scare you needlessly, but strong evidence has been found of something most of you won’t believe to be possible.
“Many of us are familiar with the Tarian legends—the ones that speak of the great and intelligent Shoggoths that could change shape as needed. About their creators, the Agarchs, who stole powers from the first three children of every family, giving it all to the Fourths. And . . . it wasn’t until recently that I began to wonder if those legends really are true.”
Murmurs cascaded through the room, and Nicole watched the expressions of disbelief and shock that crossed most people’s faces.
“What’s a Shoggoth?” she whispered to Lizzie. She couldn’t even remember the second name Coolidge had mentioned—“Shoggoth” was weird enough.
“What he said—a huge monster that changes shape. They can be taller than a building or small enough to fit in a car. All exaggerated stories, of course.”
Coolidge continued. “The evidence is und
er government protection. Yes, I did see it. No, I can’t tell you what it was—I’m under oath to protect the secret until the expedition has been successfully completed. And although the government doesn’t believe my theories, what was found gave them the push they needed to get our expedition funded. I’ve been forbidden to seek out proof of the creatures directly, but I believe that as we search, evidence will naturally point that way.”
Coolidge ignored the many hands that had shot into the air when he stopped talking. Instead, he loaded up a presentation and pointed at the first thing on the slide.
“All the tests will be held on the same day, a week from this Saturday. For the first test, you’ll be required to prove that you can discern between several magical items. It’ll be similar to what was done in class this week.”
He handed a piece of paper to a student on the front row. “This is the signup sheet. Only four students at a time can be tested. You’ll be assigned a time and a room, where you’ll have five minutes to place several things in their correct order. Once everyone has been tested, I’ll post the results, and those who pass will move on to the next test.” He looked up. “Any questions about this specifically?”
No one spoke up, so he continued. “We’ll be using a handful of classrooms near my lab. As soon as we’ve finished up here, I’ll show you where that is and let you look at and touch all the objects. I want to make sure you have exposure to everything before being tested.”
Nicole swallowed. Only a week and a half before the tests, and she’d just barely found her focus. And it was a defective one at that. What was she thinking? And what if those legends really were true?
She shook her head at herself—now was not the time to start allowing little doubts to enter her mind. She could do this!
Coolidge sat on the desk again. “The second exam will be on the items themselves. Between now and then, you’ll study them. Learn about them. Figure out how and why they became magical. Understand the cultures of the people behind them. You’ll be tested on that knowledge.”
Discern (Mosaic Chronicles Book 1) Page 5