Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The river is full to bursting with the late winter thaw, and there’s a slight reddish tinge on the branches of the maples. The earth smells stronger. Fresher.
Small hints of spring.
I steal a glance at the man beside me. Here I am, walking alongside Leo again like I have so many times in the past. His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, the hem of his open jacket breaking over his forearms. The early March wind tosses his dark hair across his forehead as he gazes at the sky, working his lower lip, lost in thought.
Last night it took him over an hour to respond to my text. I suspect he was waiting until he was alone to reply, because the moment he did, our conversation took off like wildfire. There’s no way Rime was looking over his shoulder as he typed, I’ll do whatever you need. That’s what I promised.
Maybe it’s stupid to be alone with him. Okay, yes, it’s stupid. Really stupid. But there’s no one else I want helping me with this, no one who better understands my power. Leo is my original teacher and guide, and when it comes to my ability, I feel safest in his hands.
Not that I didn’t seek out Avery, too. Between the tips she offered last night on the phone and Leo’s hands-on coaching in harnessing this afternoon, I should be better equipped to deal with Ember’s emotions.
Or, at least, I should have an arsenal of techniques to practice, something I intend to do every spare moment I find.
“Does Rime know where you are right now?” I ask, shrugging deeper into my coat. “Or who you’re with?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s not pissed off?”
“No, he is.” Leo huffs out a breath. “But he agrees that it’s smart for you to practice.”
“So I can find the weapon faster.” My mouth is so flat, I’m surprised the words made it out.
“No.” Leo stops walking and halts me with a hand on my arm. “So that you won’t have to suffer.”
Suffer? The word sends a shudder from my chest to my fingers and toes.
“I know he’s being an ass about it,” Leo admits, “but that’s because he’s conflicted. He’s torn between needing your power and wanting to protect you. It’s who he is, what he does. He protects.”
I study Leo for a moment, surprised at first that he’s defending his frenemy. Leo, the sensible scholar and intellectual. He’s more of a rock than Rime is, but I’m not fooled; he’s just as tormented.
It’s all in his eyes.
“You protect, too,” I say, resuming our walk.
“I know. And that’s the problem. I don’t do it the way he does.”
I cast my gaze downward, watching my feet as I step carefully across bare patches, tree roots, and high tufts of brown grass.
“Rime’s whole life has been one hard choice after another,” Leo explains, rather cryptically. “And the only way he’s been able to cope with it is to stick to a sort of rigid moral code. You’re a gray area, Betts. And he doesn’t know how to deal with that.”
So not only am I a distraction, I’m a moral dilemma? Maybe I should bow out. Maybe I’m more trouble than I’m worth.
“We need you,” he says, reading my doubts in my expression. “Let me worry about Rime.”
I’m tempted to argue, but as we approach the spot where Rime called on the kingfishers, I realize we’re nearing our destination—the location of the musket fire. I keep my eyes open for birds, kingfishers or any others, but there’s only the distant caw of crows.
Leo abruptly stops and signals for me to do the same.
“We’re close,” I say.
He nods as he opens his phone. “Do you want me to tell you?”
I shake my head. “I know it’s coming.”
“And then what?” It’s not sarcasm, it’s a test of my recall.
“And then I lean into it,” I answer. “Breathe.”
“Dissociate.”
“Yes. Dissociate.”
I must not have sounded confident enough, because he pockets his phone and grabs my hands. “You can do this. It’s not going to hurt you.”
“I know.” I survived this site before, survived the mill-workers’ accident.
He draws our joined hands to his chest, tugging me closer. “Now, tell me what you’re going to do next.” His features are etched in worry, his brow low and his dark eyes searching mine.
I swallow. “Harness it.”
“How?”
Shit, what did Avery tell me to do? Why have I suddenly forgotten? Why can’t I think right now about anything other than the solidness of Leo’s chest and the warmth of his hands?
“Betts—”
“Open my cloak,” I splutter. Just the front, Avery said, and keep the rest on me so the feelings only have one point of entry. “Collect them. Draw them in.” I slip a hand from his and tap the space between my chest and belly. “Like I did with yours.”
“And hold them there.”
I nod absently, trying to imagine myself going through the process and realizing my nerves right now aren’t a fear of the emotions, but a fear of failing. Of forever being their bitch.
“You’re in charge, Betts. Make them do what you want them to.”
“Got it.”
“Are you sure?”
No. But I nod. Because he’s right, I have to master this.
“I’ll drag you out if I need to,” he promises. Or is it a warning? “I’m not asking your permission.”
Yeah, it’s a warning.
I lift my chin. “You won’t need to.”
There’s the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “There’s my rebel violet.”
I step back, my hands sliding out of his. He can’t be calling me that. It makes my knees wobbly and my head feel like a helium balloon. His smile falters, but he clears his throat and turns his attention back to the path.
We walk, close but not touching, only another twenty or so yards before an inexplicable heat assaults me. Anger. We’ve reached the site of the confrontation. Determined, I walk headlong into it.
Leo has his phone out again, his eyes cast down to the screen. He knows we’ve reached the spot, but he doesn’t interfere.
Because I’m in charge.
A blast of fear comes next and, hot on its heels, horror. I halt and quickly throw up a hand, signaling for Leo to stay back. Resisting the urge to reach for him, I curl my fingers into fists instead. In my mind, I hear what he would say: Concentrate.
I meditate on my energetic cloak, feeling its weight on my shoulders and the damp velvet hood on my head. The emotions are outside it, I’m safe inside.
The emotions are outside it, I’m safe inside. The emotions are outside it, I’m safe inside…
Sounds grow muted and my vision blurs as all my senses but my clairsentience power down. I pour all my strength and focus into it, into keeping the emotional energy out until I’m ready to let it in.
When a strong arm braces me, it occurs to me I’m swaying.
Apparently, my vestibular sense has shut down too.
I lean into the sturdy man beside me, but I don’t otherwise acknowledge him.
Nor does he acknowledge me. Once I’m steady enough, I inhale long and slow, and in my mind, I open my cloak, just a little, directly over my solar plexus.
At first, there’s nothing. I’m braced so stiffly against the potential onslaught that I momentarily stop breathing.
Then the first ripple of sensation slips in.
Horror. It’s warm and viscous, like blood, so that’s what I imagine it to be: a ribbon of crimson suspended in the air.
I begin winding it onto an imaginary spool, the spool growing thicker as I gather more and more until I’ve formed a ball of energy I could squeeze with my hand.
Then I draw it in, directly into that pool under my ribs.
Heat threatens to burst open my ribcage, but I hold on to the blood ribbon through sheer force of will until the boiling ceases and the threat is contained.
After a slow, deep breath, I reach out again to the other energies outside my cloak. And one by one, I gather them in: acidic rage, hollow sorrow, icy fear.
My solar plexus is a bubbling cauldron. A psychic stew. There’s a good chance I’m going to barf. I fight desperately to keep it down, questioning what’s worse: holding the energies within or letting them assault me from without.
Yet, although I feel physically unwell, I seem emotionally unaffected. And unlike at the mill town, I know who I am, where I am, and who is standing beside me.
I’m in charge.
Leo whispers my name. I nod and meet his eyes. I did it, I want to say, but I’m afraid more than words will come spilling out of my mouth.
“You harnessed it.” He clutches my hands. They’re shaking. All of me is shaking.
I nod again, letting another wave of nausea pass. “It’s all right here.” His eyes follow as I lay my hands on my stomach.
“Are you scared? Angry?”
I shake my head, gulping as saliva builds in my throat.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m a little pukey.” I don’t remember feeling this way when I harnessed his emotions, but maybe they weren’t strong enough, or maybe I didn’t hold them in as effectively.
Fighting a smile, he steps even closer. “Let me fix that.”
I don’t resist as he slides one cool hand along my clammy cheek and rests the other just under my sternum.
Warmth emanates from his palms as he holds my gaze.
Golden-brown faerie eyes blink back at me, and faerie ears peek through his windblown hair.
But only for me. Should anyone pass by, they’d see two normal college kids getting a little too close.
But I see the faerie. His glamour magic is no match for my power when I choose to use it.
The power I thought was a curse until he believed in me.
“Better?” he murmurs.
“Yes.” My hands cover his, holding them in place. Don’t take them away. Don’t ever stop touching me.
“I can feel all that energy inside you.”
“Can you? What does it feel like?”
“A thunderstorm.”
I smile. “It feels like the river to me.” Thrashing against my bones and organs like the water does the rocks and banks. It needs out. “I should ground.”
“Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me from the massacre site to the riverbank. “If you sit on the grass, you can get rid of it even faster.”