by Sara Preucil
Kenna stepped onto the ice, watching Eduardo’s growing disbelief with pleasure. Only after she reached the opposite side of the river did her intention finally dawn on Eduardo.
As she approached her master’s son, she was no longer afraid. She was focused, and she was angry.
A fiery heat, one that she had long suppressed, sparked in her belly. She felt it grow, raging, as the heat travelled through her veins to her fingertips.
The flame ignited all too easily as she raised up her hand, as if it had been waiting all these years to be called out. Its release was a sweet relief like the exhale of a long-held breath.
Eduardo pulled at the reigns, attempting to flee. Kenna shot the small ball of fire toward the ground at the horse’s hooves. Startled, it reared up, throwing Eduardo from his saddle.
Kenna drew from the heat within herself and called up another flame, cradling it carefully in her palm as she walked over to where Eduardo was lying on the ground. He was moaning, clutching his leg which was twisted under him at a sickening angle.
She stood over him, her anger giving fuel to the growing fire in her hand. The orange light danced in the reflection of Eduardo’s wide eyes.
Up close, she could see that his face was swollen where it had collided with the shovel. His jaw moved at an odd angle when he spoke.
“Please, no,” he begged, slurring slightly. Kenna wondered if she had knocked out a few of his teeth. The thought brought a wicked smile to her lips. “I’m sorry,” Eduardo continued, whimpering now. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry.”
Kenna stared down at the pathetic young man, and considered mercy. But then she thought of her village…her mother…Codi…
“I’ll never do anything like that ever again! I swear!” Eduardo babbled, tears gathering in his bloodshot eyes.
“No.” Kenna turned her palm toward him. “You won’t.”
The flame erupted from her hand, the brightness of it blacking out their surroundings.
Eduardo screamed.
The heat, intense and savage, warmed Kenna’s back as she turned away from the roaring flames. She slowly made her way toward the river.
She paused at the edge of the water, suddenly fearing how the stranger might look at her now. After what she had just done. She looked out across the river.
At the far bank, he stood, his ice bridge still in place, waiting for her. Kenna crossed it, feeling an inexplicable pull toward him.
She paused before reaching the bank, chancing a look at his face. She expected to see fear or revulsion. Something to mark the horror of what she had just done. But instead, she saw understanding.
He walked to the spot where the ice met river rock and held out a hand to help her cross the last few steps on to the bank. She placed her small hand in his, amazed that he was willing to take it after seeing what they could do.
When his strong, calloused hand closed around hers, the spark that coursed through her at the connection of their skin caused her to let out an audible gasp. She felt again what she had experienced the first time she looked into his eyes, multiplied now at their touch.
A feeling of rightness, of completeness. It was as though her soul was singing. It recognized something in his, found something in him that she hadn’t realized she was missing, but now that she found it, it was so obvious it had been lacking. Like she hadn’t been fully alive until this moment.
This overwhelming flurry of emotions had her heart racing, and her eyes pricked where tears were forming.
Confused, she looked into his eyes, to gauge whether he too were affected.
His blue eyes shone at her, captivated, as though she were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
They stood on the rocky river bank, staring at each other. Slowly, he cupped her face in his rough hands, and lowered his forehead to rest against hers.
“I’ve found you,” he whispered just loud enough for Kenna to hear over the rushing river.
Chapter 4
Emmy woke suddenly, the dream abnormally fresh in her mind. It was the middle of the night, and although she was momentarily blind in the darkness, her other senses were on fire.
Her lungs still ached from the exertion of running and the pain of choking down river water. Her hands still burned where the flames had been conjured.
Her heart raced as she replayed the dream with perfect clarity. The weight of the shovel in her hand was so real it was like she was reliving a memory more than a dream.
And the stranger.
A sudden, intense longing overcame Emmy as she thought of the man. She could still feel the rocks under her feet and the spot where he laid his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes and was surprised to feel a single tear run down her cheek.
This is ridiculous, Emmy thought to herself. It was only a dream.
She rolled over, and although it took a while for her to fall asleep, when she woke the next morning to the sound of her alarm, she had completely forgotten all about it.
The sun had burned off some of the clouds from the morning’s overcast sky by the time Emmy arrived at school. Closing the door of her Geo behind her, she took a moment to lean against her car. The sun’s rays gently warmed her face; she closed her eyes and soaked them in.
The first bell rang out shrilly across the campus. Emmy’s eyes flew open.
She darted toward the front doors and, flinging them open, hurried to her locker where she dumped her bag, grabbed the materials for class, and hurried off for bio.
She had just crossed the threshold of the biology classroom when the second bell sounded. Their biology teacher, Mrs. Pérez, gave Emmy a small smile and a look that said, close call.
“Thank you for joining us, Miss Nomura,” Mrs. Pérez said as she began to distribute some handouts.
“Sorry.” Emmy crossed the room to her usual desk near the back, which Austin had dutifully saved for her. He retrieved his letterman jacket from her vacant seat and put it on the back of his own blue plastic chair.
“Close call.” He smiled brightly at her.
“Yeah,” she whispered back as the girl in front of her passed Emmy the handout.
After biology, Austin usually walked Emmy to Spanish. Today, he insisted on stopping by at his locker first.
“Here,” he said, fishing around in his backpack before producing two identical aluminum water bottles. “I got this for you.” He handed one of them to her.
Emmy examined the water bottle with its decorative forest scene.
“I know how much you like your coffee—”
That’s an understatement, Emmy thought.
“—but you need water too.”
Touched that he cared about something like this, Emmy smiled. “Thank you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. She seriously had the best boyfriend.
She marveled over the thoughtfulness of the simple gift as Austin walked with her to the Spanish classroom.
“See you in art.” He waved, hurrying off to pre-calc. Emmy smiled as she watched him stride down the hall, and then right before the bell rang, she ducked into the Spanish room.
The next few hours flew past. Emmy found that she lacked the patience in working with the absurdly slow-drying oils in art and made a muddied mess of her canvas. Lunch was an uninspired tuna casserole. They finished the Shakespeare video in English, during which Mariah and Emmy passed notes back and forth in the safety of the dark room. In gym, they started the ever tiresome fitness tests; Mariah and Emmy had to fight back giggles as they counted each other’s sorry excuses for pushups and sit-ups. And in world history, Emmy alternated between taking notes about the early Egyptian dynasties and picking the remnants of oil paint from underneath her fingernails.
At the end of the day, Austin found Emmy at her locker.
The Whitlocks, wanting Austin to pad his college applications, set up an internship for him at a company in which they were heavily invested, called Modern Alchemy. Austin was able to work it out with the football coach
that as long as his field goal average didn’t suffer, he could attend his internship once a week instead of practice. And somehow Austin, in his charming ways, had convinced Emmy to get an internship there as well.
So, every Thursday after school for a couple of hours, they were to perform what Emmy guessed would only be menial office labor. But since this was the first day, she could only speculate.
Austin drove them downtown in his silver Audi. They parked in the public parking garage and walked the rest of the couple of blocks to the office building. Austin opened the glass door, gesturing for Emmy to walk in first. They were greeted by the sound of tinkling chimes as the door closed behind them. A wave of cool air, heavily mixed with essential oils, washed over them as they made their way across a bright lobby to the front desk. The place had a very spa-like feel to it.
A woman dressed all in white was seated behind the desk, and smiled brightly at Austin as they approached. Her gaze flickered over Emmy, the corners of her wide smile twitching slightly. Emmy was used to this sort of reaction from strangers; she and Austin looked quite the odd couple, with his golden complexion and preppy appearance contrasting sharply with her borderline goth color palette.
“How can I help you?” the woman asked, addressing Austin.
“We are here for the internship.”
“Of course.” She fastened a couple of sheets of paper to two clipboards. “I just need you to fill out some paperwork first, and then we can get started.” She handed them each a clipboard. “You can take a seat over there.” She pointed toward a row of lime-green chairs to their right. “I’ll let someone know you are here.”
“Thank you.” Austin beamed.
Emmy mumbled her thanks and followed Austin to the chairs. They settled into them and began filling out their personal information.
“Is it too late to leave?” Emmy whispered, only half joking. The essential oils in the air were starting to make her feel ill.
“Come on, it’ll be fine.” Austin nudged her gently with his elbow, making her pen turn her signature into a squiggle.
“Hey!” Emmy took her pen and drew a wiggly line on his own paper.
Austin retaliated by taking her pen so she couldn’t inflict any more damage.
A door near the reception desk opened and another woman, also dressed head-to-toe in white, with her hair cut into an asymmetrical, black bob appeared.
“Are you the new interns?” she asked.
Austin stood up. “We are,” he replied, polite as ever.
“My name is Krystal. Follow me.” The woman turned, her short hair swirling around her ears, and headed back through the door. Austin returned their paperwork to the woman at the desk before following after Krystal. Emmy shuffled behind him.
“Modern Alchemy is a small corporation dedicated to the research and implementation of natural energy,” Krystal explained as they made their way down a white corridor. “Our mission statement is summed up nicely in our slogan.” She paused, pointing to a section of the wall in which large silvery words had been painted in neat flowing calligraphy. They read: “To Purify and Perfect the Planet.”
She opened a door right next to the script. The large room was open, airy, and just as white as the rest of the building’s interior. There were people sitting at desks scattered throughout the space. “Through here is where most of our administrative work is done. This is where you will be helping out.” Krystal led them past the desks, toward the back of the room.
Emmy inwardly groaned. Office work. She knew it.
“And here is one of our other high school interns.” Krystal stopped at an open door to a small conference room at the back of the large rectangular room. At an oval table sat a pretty, olive skinned girl whose golden-brown hair was pulled back tightly from her face into a high ponytail as she shuffled through what appeared to be old newspaper clippings.
She looked up from her work. Her round, dark-green eyes taking them in.
“Hi.” She smiled. “I’m Tara.”
“Hi,” Austin and Emmy echoed, then introduced themselves in turn.
“These have already been set out for you.” Krystal pointed to a couple of boxes on the floor near the table. Heaped inside were mounds of manila folders. “For today, please black out the existing labels and adhere new label stickers. Tara will show you where the supplies are. If you have any questions, I’ll just be at my desk.” Krystal pointed to an empty desk across the room.
Emmy had a feeling that questions were not exactly welcome.
After Krystal left, Tara stood up. Emmy watched as she opened the top drawer of a filing cabinet, pulled out some things, and then returned to the table. Tara laid out a couple of black markers, a stack of blank tabs, and a couple of lanyards with the word “volunteer” hanging on a laminated card.
“Here.” Tara handed the lanyards to Austin and Emmy. “You need to wear these. Also there is a sheet where you need to sign in an out every day.” She pointed to a clipboard that hung from a tack next to the filing cabinets.
“I’ll do it.” Austin got up and signed the two of them in as Emmy grabbed a small stack of folders from the boxes and sat down at the table.
They worked in relative quiet over the next couple of hours; Austin and Tara kept up a polite discourse of small talk. They learned that Tara was a senior at Sehome High School, and was planning to study chemistry at WWU, which is what led her to this internship. That, and the fact that her parents also worked for Modern Alchemy.
After their two hours were up, all the folders were back in their boxes with fresh tabs. Austin and Emmy signed out and put their lanyards back in the drawer. They waved bye to Tara and walked through the main room, past all the desks, which were now almost all empty, down the hall, and into reception. The receptionist was on the phone, but nodded to them as they walked toward the front door.
“Well that should fulfill our volunteer requirements for college applications.” Emmy joked, stretching her arms overhead and taking a deep breath of fresh air, glad to be out of the overly perfumed office.
“Come on, it wasn’t so bad.” Austin put his arm around her shoulder.
“I suppose not.” She smiled up at him.
Austin drove Emmy back to where her car was still parked at the high school. He got out of his car first, hurrying to both open the door to let her out of his Audi and then to open the driver’s door of her Geo. Emmy laughed at the eager display of chivalry as she slid into her car and then waited expectantly for Austin to lean in to kiss her.
“See you tomorrow,” he said when they parted, and closed the door for her.
Emmy drove home, still smiling.
Chapter 5
One week earlier
At a gas station off I-5 near Chehalis, Washington, Dylan was pumping fuel into his turquoise 1999 Jeep Cherokee. He never let it fall below a quarter tank, a pearl of wisdom from his stepmother, least he end up stranded before reaching his destination. Wherever that may be. Truth was, he had no idea how much farther he had to go. His stop could be somewhere off the next exit, or in a hundred more exits.
All he knew for sure was that he was being pulled north.
✽✽✽
Dylan had begun his “awakening”—as he had come to refer to it—just about two years ago with an onset of weird dream. Vivid dreams of other lives from different times that had been lived out in faraway places. These half a dozen or so lives, some long while others were cut short, all inhabited foreign countries that his waking eyes had never seen, and yet the images that he had conjured into these dreams were made of such impossible detail.
How could he have possibly known that during the construction of the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park, they used shears to hoist its columns and girders, and how was it that he could still practically feel the burn of the ropes against his palms as they operated the pulley system? What regular dream could replicate exactly what it felt like to travel across the Yellow Sea and, with his comrades, occupy Qingdao in a move again
st the Germans? He could still picture the painted rooster on the sign hanging over his favorite dumpling place, and the kind smile belonging to the waitress that his friend, Saitō, had a wild crush on.
Some of these lives that Dylan’s dreaming mind visited at night were relatively normal, even peaceful. But in others there was a looming darkness, and an awareness that he was being hunted. Once or twice, Dylan had dreamt that this ominous presence had caught up with him. Men operating in the name of religion had decided that he was a threat, and more than once, they dispatched him.
But the happiest of these oddly thorough dreams had been those in which he spent his time with her. While those filled with the most despair and fear were the ones in which he lost her.
Even though he dreamt of various places and struggles, she was the constant variable. And yet, she also changed, wearing different faces and skins, shedding them between dreams like one might change outfits. But Dylan was certain that these faces all belonged to the same girl. He couldn’t explain it, but it there was a sense, a knowing, that the same soul resided behind these different masks.
Strangest of all, there was one other abnormal variable that remained unchanging in these dreams. For some reason, every version of himself—whether in London in the 1850’s, Japan during the first world war, or South America in the mid-1700’s—had the ability to control water.
Dylan dreamt of using that ability to draw water from the lungs of his little brother Thomas after he had fallen into and nearly drowned in the Thames. And sending icicles hurtling like spears toward a group of men whose faces were obscured by falling snow.
It was about a year after the dreams began, when Dylan was just starting his senior year of high school in his hometown of San Antonio, Texas, that he realized they were more than mere fantasy.
It had happened after gym. The boys were in the locker room, and like some teen movie cliché, some of the senior football players were picking on a far less athletically-inclined sophomore. Having been a target himself in past years before a generous growth spurt, Dylan empathized with the kid.