by Erin Grey
“TMI, girl,” said Sandy. “Way TMI.”
Mitch breathed a small sigh of relief.
Aidon nodded silently. His chair creaked as he rose from it. He pulled me to my feet and walked around me, assessing my form like I was a guani he wanted to buy. I folded my arms. “I’m up here, dude.”
He sniggered, then waved at me to sit down. He threw himself back into his own chair.
“Remember what I told you about powers or energies that are not managed?” he asked, picking at the armrest. “People experience various symptoms. What you’re describing is very common. Anxiety, heart palpitations, depression, suicidal thoughts, etcetera.”
A tingling started somewhere in my tummy, then darted up into my chest. Sandy wanted to swat it away like a fly.
“What are you trying to say?” I asked.
“It’s quite possible that you have powers, but they are suppressed,” he said. “So, your body fights you to release them.”
“Yes,” said Mitch.
“Ridiculous,” Jasper scoffed. “Jane is not a fictional superhero.”
“How can that be?” I stammered. “I’m not from Eorthe.”
“No,” said Charis. “But you are human, as are we. Therefore, the possibility exists.”
“Yes, yes,” said Mitch with growing vehemence.
“No,” insisted Jasper. “The very idea of people from Earth having supernatural powers is baseless and absurd.”
“If you can find out where your power lies and learn how to direct it,” continued Aidon, “it will stop bothering you to be unleashed.”
The tingling amplified into a vague burning. It unsettled me, and BIOS scrambled to identify it. Then recognition hit.
It was hope.
It had been so long since I’d felt it that the sensation was barely familiar. But there it was, sparking away like the beginnings of a brush fire. I was elated and petrified at the same time. Hope was a beautiful thing, but excruciating when crushed. And I’d had mine crushed many, many times. I wasn’t certain whether to grab onto it with both hands or run away screaming.
“You really think I have a power? And that the anxiety and everything will go away once I learn to use it?”
“We won’t know until you find and release it,” said Charis.
“How do I do that?” I asked in an unsteady voice. Something clawed at my throat, making it difficult to squeeze out the words. “Or figure out if I even have one?”
“Depends,” said Aidon, rubbing his chin again. “What do you like to do? What comes naturally to you?”
I thought back. So many of the things I used to enjoy had become impossible when my health went downhill. I reached back further.
I used to make things. I’d sew, write, bake … and I loved to garden. Growing things felt … right. Even pulling up weeds to prepare the soil for something new was comforting, something that sent me into a flow state where time slipped away and all I knew was the feel and smell of green and earth and sun and air.
I looked back at Charis.
“Is gardening a power?” I asked.
She laughed. “Not precisely. Many people enjoy working with plants. But the question is: do you excel at it? Are you able to do something extraordinary with it?”
My brain fired a few synapses, and images of brown leaves, insect infestations, and crumbling bark flashed up. I forgot to water, forgot to fertilize, never seemed to have enough energy to prune and care. My chest drooped. “No,” I whispered.
“Don’t fret,” she said. “We’ll uncover what it is. It only requires patience.”
“How did you discover your own power?” I asked.
Charis smiled. “By the time I could walk, it became apparent. Things around me just … fell into place.”
I grimaced. That definitely was not my power.
“Is there a way for people to discover their power if it’s not that obvious?” I asked. “Some kind of test you can take?”
“For most it comes naturally,” she answered. “It expresses itself when one is a child. Later, some are able to get training on how to use it from the appropriate house.”
“House?”
“Each type of energy falls under a particular house named for the gode or godesse who opened it. The House of Hephaestus trains those with powers to manipulate the elements: fire, water, wind, and earth. House Athena oversees mental powers or abilities to do with technology and science; Artemisia: camouflage and morphing; Hermus: communication, telepathy, and eloquence.”
“What house do you fall under?”
Her smile turned sad and wan. “My kind no longer have a house. This ability does not fit into the current framework of things.” She dropped her gaze and brushed delicate fingers across her shoulder, toying with the folds of fabric draping it. It was the first time I’d seen her display any hint of unease. “It is so for most of us here.”
I turned to Aidon, who had been silent while I questioned Charis. “For you too?” I asked. “What is your power?”
He froze. “It doesn’t matter,” he rumbled in that deep baritone of his.
“With you, though, Jane, it will be difficult,” interrupted Charis, breaking the tension. “Your energy has been suppressed for so long, it will be much harder to root it out. It’s a matter of trial and error.” She turned to Aidon. “We could take her to the amphitheatre,” she suggested. “Close to the ground, the centre of Eorthe, we’re more likely to draw out any hidden energy.”
“Good idea,” said Aidon, rising. “We best go now, while there’s still light. You coming?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” smiled Charis.
“What if we don’t have a hidden energy?” worried Gwendolyn. “Will they still like us?”
“Who cares what they think?” said Sandy. “I don’t need a special energy to be cool.”
Jasper fumed. “The fact that any one of you can entertain such a preposterous notion is ludicrous in the extreme.”
“It’s there,” said Mitch. “I feel it.”
“You lot going out again?” bellowed Quirinus as we passed through the kitchen on our way.
“We’re taking Jane to the arena,” said Charis. “We hope to help her access her energy.”
Quirinus opened a drawer and pulled out a dagger. “Take this,” he said as he handed it to me. “You never know when you might need it.” He pointed to the hooks beside the door. “And don’t forget your jackets. It’s nippy out.”
24
Before
25
The bit where there’s a snap
The amphitheatre was a natural slope in the side of a hill that ended in a dust bowl where we stood, me awkward and uncertain, Aidon thoughtful, Charis elegant as always.
“Try reaching into the ground with your mind and feeling the power of it,” said Aidon.
“That is not logical,” said Jasper decisively.
“You’re such a killjoy,” said Sandy. “What would you know about anything that doesn’t come out of an encyclopaedia?”
“I want to feel,” said Mitch.
“But how?” asked Gwendolyn.
I stared at the ground and kicked at the dust. “I don’t understand. I don’t feel anything.”
“Close your eyes,” said Charis gently. “Breathe. Slow and deep.”
“This is a complete and utter waste of time,” said Jasper. “Irrational nonsense.”
I huffed. “It’s not working.”
Charis placed a palm on my forearm. “Watch me.”
She closed her eyes and breathed: in, then out. “You feel a sort of heaviness as you connect,” she murmured.
Pebbles and dust shifted until there was a collection at her feet, beautiful as a still life painting. She could make anything look pretty, even rocks and dirt.
She opened her eyes. “You see?”
“Yes, I see, but I can’t do, ok?” I crossed my arms. “Maybe I don’t have a power.”
“Everyone has a power,” said Aidon. “All the
signs indicate you do, too.”
“Then why don’t you use yours, huh?” said Sandy.
“Why can’t you show me, then?” I challenged, feeling militant.
Charis moved between us as though she sensed trouble brewing. “He can’t right now. It’s … not safe.”
“Do you have to be so mysterious?” I complained. “It’s not as though I’m spying for the government.”
Aidon raised an eyebrow. At least, I think he would have preferred to raise only one, except the first one did a sort of jiggle and then both of them went up together. I felt a surge of empathy, because I’ve always wanted to be able to raise one eyebrow at a time too.
“It can’t help you right now,” he said curtly.
“I don’t know how you expect me to learn anything if you won’t even—”
“Listen, it doesn’t matter how I draw my energy,” he contended, fists clenched. “This is about you. Do what Charis is telling you. She’s the most experienced at making the connection.”
“Are you calling me old?” asked Charis with a scowl.
“That’s not what I …” Aidon pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m not cut out for dealing with difficult women.”
Charis laughed. “Poor Aidon,” she cooed. “Is it nap time?”
When he dropped his face into his hand, Charis nudged me. “Shall we cut him some slack?”
“Oh, let’s give it another try,” said Gwendolyn, eager to please.
“Try, try!” cried Emmy excitedly.
I shut my eyes tight and tried to relax my clamped-up jaw. Breathe, she’d said. Reach down into the ground and—
For the briefest split nanosecond, I felt sucked into the ground, the voices merged into one, I knew my direction—
Then something snapped, like an elastic band breaking in two, and I found myself jolted out of concentration. The moment of focus became a blank in my memory.
“What just happened?” I stuttered.
“It’s alright,” said Charis. “Perfectly normal. Try again.”
“Normal?” snorted Sandy. “Nothing about this is normal, lady.”
The feeling of disorientation was hard to throw. Breathe in, breathe out. Relax. I reached down into the ground, imagining my hands as roots pushing through the soil.
Then I felt … the heaviness. A weight that pulled me deeper. Like I could touch things far below the earth. My hands reached towards it—
Snap.
Gone.
“No!” wailed Emmy while Mitch groaned.
“Why?” I cried.
“Rest,” answered Charis. “Then try again. It takes time to master.”
Resting didn’t help. I couldn’t connect longer than a second, no matter how many times I tried, and the jarring sensation of being thrown from the dark of concentration into stark, wide-awake light was exhausting.
“Okay, give it a break,” Aidon said after another failed attempt. “You’re overthinking it. Let’s try something else. Have you any idea how to fight?”
I recoiled. “None at all.”
“Ladies do not fight,” said Jasper.
“None of us are ladies,” said Sandy with a smirk.
“I’m a lady!” objected Gwendolyn.
“No, you’re not; you’re a princess,” retorted Sandy. “There’s a difference.”
Gwendolyn pondered. “I think you mean that as an insult, but I like being called a princess, so I don’t mind.”
“We need to get you out of your own head,” said Aidon. “Fending off an attack could trigger your fight or flight instinct, which in turn could trigger your energy. Now, turn around.”
“You’re going to come at me from behind? I don’t like that idea.”
“Look at me, Jane,” said Charis, pulling me to face her. “Aidon isn’t going to hurt you. He only wants to” —she looked to my right with wide eyes— “good heavens, how did the Regulators find us?”
“The Reg—!”
Before I could complete my exclamation, an arm locked around my neck, pressing against my windpipe, while another circled my waist, crushing me against a hard body.
I barely had a chance to register the placement of the bare forearm against the skin of my neck before a wave of tension hit. Warmth spread from the point of contact and rushed along arteries, raising the hairs on my arms and sending prickles down my spine, all the way to my toes. The heaviness that I’d felt in the earth rolled over me, and my vision darkened and turned to black. I was wedged in a crushing mass that trapped and empowered at the same time. Pressure swelled to the brink of explosion.
My captor’s hold tightened, and his breath caught.
The weight built unbearably until he let go and pushed away from me. I felt as though I’d been sucked into a vacuum and then flung back out at peak velocity. My blood boiled, steaming sweat through my pores. My ears rang. My eyes watered.
I panted with relief. It was a struggle to suck air into my lungs. I swung around to see Aidon a few steps behind me, the sheen on his skin washed to matte, like the blood had drained from his face. He just stood there, chest heaving, mouth open.
“What the hell?” said Sandy. “There weren’t any Regulators! That was a dirty trick!”
“It felt so strange,” said Gwendolyn, shivering.
“But good,” said Mitch.
“What was that?” I gasped.
Charis shifted her glance back and forth between us, dumbstruck.
“What happened?” I asked again. “What was that feeling? Was it my power? Or yours?”
Charis croaked, a sound totally incongruous with her usual unruffled velvetiness. “But that only ever happens with twins—”
“We’re leaving,” interrupted Aidon. “Now.” He spun on his heel and marched away, not looking to see if we followed.
“Charis—” I began.
“We must go,” she said, not meeting my eyes as she turned to trace Aidon’s steps.
Sandy wasn’t prepared to let it drop
“What do you mean ‘it only happens with twins’?” I asked. “What only happens with twins?”
Charis’ step faltered.
“She just needs a little push,” said Sandy.
“Please,” I begged. “I’m so confused as it is. I need to know what’s happening to me, if I’m in any danger.”
She looked up at that. “You’re not in any danger. It’s only that …”
“Yes?”
Her eyes darted away, flitting between spots around my head, resolutely avoiding my face. “You’re linked,” she said finally.
“Linked?” said Gwendolyn. “Like, telepathically?”
“How?” I asked.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” Charis blustered. “The two of you … you are connected. Like twins. You’re linked.”
“You mean related?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that. A lot more complicated, actually.”
“But … It’s impossible.”
“I know,” she said. “And yet here we are.” She examined my face, and I could see exactly what she was seeing. There couldn’t be a genetic connection between his tall and my short, his polished brass skin and my blotchy paleness, his golden hair and my sooty black, his glistening bronze irises and my dull grey.
“We’re not even from the same planet.” I felt dazed.
“You don’t have to convince me that it doesn’t make any sense, darling.”
I absently rubbed a finger which had started itching.
“Let me see that,” said Charis, reaching for it. She lifted the finger up, the ring finger of my right hand. “Well, I never,” she breathed.
I followed her gaze and flinched, jerking my hand out of her grip.
A mark, a tattoo of scar tissue, wound around my finger, patterned like twisting vines. It burned like an insect bite.
“What does it mean?” I choked out. “Why now?”
Aidon had touched me before … hadn’t h
e?
“Never skin to skin,” said Gwendolyn. “I would remember if he had.”
“I don’t have answers for you, sweetheart,” said Charis, shaking her head sadly. “We’ll need someone older and wiser for that. But wait one moment …”
She glided ahead, quickly catching up with Aidon despite his manic pace. She grabbed his hand, forcing him to a halt. He glared at her, but she held up his fingers.
“And there it is,” she said softly.
He had the same mark.
26
The bit where I meet the Thoughtful Rights Activist Group
“Why do I feel so angry?” groused Sandy. “I’m this close to throwing rocks at people, and I don’t know why.”
“It is uncanny,” said Jasper. “I cannot explain it.”
Emmy wriggled and whined.
“I feel rather fractious myself,” agreed Gwendolyn.
The anger twisted and burned like the back of my brain was on fire. Even Mitch could feel it. But I had nothing to be angry about, and my response to the events in the arena was confusion. It was like someone else’s feelings had hijacked me.
Back at the base, Aidon wasted no time in getting lost. He’d refused to answer any questions, refused to look at me on the walk back. Charis’ face was strained.
Ju, the girl who’d been sleeping on the couch when Brianus and I first arrived, was helping Quirinus in the kitchen. Her ruffled pink dress reflected off the blades she sharpened with vicious efficiency. I braced myself and held out a hand.
“I didn’t meet you properly before—” I began.
“She’s Fabiola,” stated Quirinus, face solemn as a priest.
The girl smacked his arm. “Stop calling me that! I’m Ju.”
“Short for Junia,” said Quirinus, completely apathetic towards Ju’s blows.