FOURTEEN THE BASICS
FOURTEEN
THE BASICS
‘ Y ou were a Keeper?’
Nathaniel nods. ‘Yes, a few years back now.’
I’m seeing Nathaniel through a different lens. ‘I don’t get it, you’re not… dead, are you?’ I’m half joking. But in this new world, who’s to say?
Nathaniel laughs. ‘No, Liam, I’m not dead. A Keeper’s power does get passed on when they die, but for those who manage to endure, there’s a different fate.’
‘Endure? What do you mean?’
‘Back when Keepers were created, life expectancy was much shorter. People barely lived to their forties. But as time progressed and medicine advanced, humans started living longer. However, our powers didn’t evolve accordingly.
These days, a Keeper typically gains their abilities during late adolescence and loses them within a couple of decades, give or take a few years. ’
‘So, being a Keeper isn’t a lifetime gig?’
‘For those who manage to survive, no.’
So, my newfound abilities come with an expiration date. And apparently, so do I. I just hope mine is a long time from now.
‘Which Keeper were you?’ I say.
‘The Motus, or the Second, like Opel.’
‘Was she your successor?’
Nathaniel’s expression darkens. ‘No, there was another Keeper between us. Time to wrap things up for today.’ Nathaniel moves toward the door. I follow.
We make our way down the hallway and stop outside his study.
‘You best get down to Opel,’ Nathaniel says, opening his door.
‘The Guild,’ I start.
‘Yes?’
‘Do they know why I saw what I saw in my dream?’
‘No, but I am hoping there will be some update on that this evening after your induction.’
Nathaniel gives me a half-smile, the kind that Mum gives me when she’s in a hurry to get somewhere but I won’t shut up. I take the hint.
‘See you later, Liam,’ Nathaniel says, before closing the door.
Back on the first floor, Opel’s music continues to pulse from the training room. I approach the doors, but I’m distracted by something. Sunlight coming from Tariq’s bedroom. His door is still slightly ajar. I hesitate, then move closer to the room.
‘Tariq?’
No answer.
I have this curiosity to see his room in daylight. After all, he’s seen mine in the day and at night. I push the door gently and step inside.
It looks different. Bigger. There’s his bed in the middle, and the fireplace on one side. It’s all neat and tidy, very hotel-room chic.
The view out of his window is totally different from mine. Instead of peaceful meadows and the cathedral, he’s got a noisy street and the back of a Subway shop.
I scan a small shelf above his chest of drawers. He’s right, he’s quite the bookworm. I can already spot Jaws by Peter Benchley. Who cares if I haven’t read it? No one talks about the book, it’s all about the movie.
My eyes fall to a small jewellery stand on top of the drawers.
There are various chains, bracelets, and rings, not that I’ve seen Tariq wear any of these.
One thing that is different from the rest is a Sarumbourne Hospital medical band.
The logo is just like the one on Mum’s uniform.
The band is worn and discoloured. I turn it in my fingers to get a better view of the inscription.
It reads: Tariq Ashar ; DOB: 17/03/2005 ; Emergency contact: Unknown .
That makes him nineteen. Why would his emergency contact be unknown? Last night at my place, he did have that scar on his back…
‘Liam?’
I jump, nearly knocking over the stand. I spin around to find Tariq standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a short white towel around his waist. The sunlight on his skin is causing him to sparkle. Everything in my mind vanishes, and blood rushes places I really don’t want it right now.
He cocks an eyebrow. ‘What are you doing in here?’
My cheeks heat up. ‘I, uh… I was just with Nathaniel… on the tour and, um…’ Why can’t I form words?
‘I don’t recall my room being part of the tour,’ he says, smiling.
He shuts the door, drops of water falling from his hair onto his sculpted back. I swallow hard, struggling to keep my gaze on his face.
‘Can I?’ He gestures toward the drawers behind me.
I’m a deer caught in headlights, but I manage to move out of his way.
‘Uh… yeah, sure. Sorry.’
He giggles as he rummages through the drawers.
‘I should probably let you get dressed,’ I say, my eyes darting to the floor. ‘I’m supposed to be next door, training with Opel.’
‘Are you now?’ Tariq selects a stick of deodorant and rubs it on his pits.
‘Yeah, I mean, she wasn’t thrilled about it initially, but Nathaniel convinced her.’
‘She’s got a tough exterior, but I promise, she does have a soft side. Just don’t let her boss you around too much.’ He slips into a pair of boxers under his towel.
‘Noted,’ I say, trying my best not to let my eyes wander.
As I reach for the doorknob, I pause. Jack’s words to me earlier are still playing on my mind, and maybe now is as good a time as any to ask.
‘Why were you so determined to win earlier? At badminton, I mean.’
Tariq pulls on some trousers and then catches my gaze.
‘I’m a competitive guy,’ he says, finally.
‘Right.’ I nod. There’s something more. His eyes lie. But I’ll have to pursue it some other time.
Opel is pummelling a punching bag as I enter the training room, the blaring beats timing well with each strike she makes.
I softly close the door, hoping not to draw her attention. Watching her move is impressive. Her strikes are fast, and she dances around the bag with grace.
After a mighty punch, the bag swings back her way, but before it reaches her, it freezes mid-swing. Opel’s hand is outstretched, as if she’s holding the bag in place without touching it.
‘Whoa,’ I say, unintentionally.
Opel quickly drops her hand; the bag swings back into place.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she says, removing her fingerless training gloves.
She saunters over to her phone and taps the screen, abruptly cutting off the music.
‘That was… how did you do that?’ I say.
‘It’s telekinesis. I can manipulate objects with my mind.’
‘Wow, so you’re like Jean Grey?’
Opel stares at me flatly.
‘You know… X-Men.’
‘I don’t watch movies.’
Why do I feel I’ve joined the wrong super-group? Does anyone around here watch films?
‘They actually started out as comics…’
‘I’m also not a geek,’ she says, walking over to the glass-walled door. ‘Come on.’
I follow her inside.
This side of the glass feels warmer. It’s echoey too, my Converse squeak a little with each step on the smooth floor.
‘Welcome to the Fishtank,’ Opel says.
‘Fishtank.’ I snort.
‘It’s Tariq’s nickname for it.’ She dabs herself with a towel and then tosses it aside. ‘Alright, let’s keep this short. All combat training and ability exercises stay within the tank. The only time you should need to do either thing outside of these four walls is when you’re facing some nasty.’
‘Do we have weapons?’ I say.
‘What?’
‘You know… swords, crossbows…’
‘Seriously? You think we could get away with walking around with that kind of equipment on us? Some discretion is required as a Keeper.’
‘What about guns?’
‘Guns? Who uses guns?’
‘Um, hello. Kate Beckinsale in Underworld . Sam and Dean in Supernatural . Blade in—’
‘We’re in reality, kid, not a TV show. Keepers don’t carry guns. They’re loud and attract too much attention. Besides, most demons ain’t gonna be deterred by a few bullets. Your powers are your weapons.’
She does make a good point. Who needs weapons when you can control things with your mind and throw fire from your hands?
‘Anyway, the Guild isn’t in the business of handing firearms to children.’
‘I’m not a child. I’m seventeen.’
‘Okay, Seventeen. Show me what you’ve got.’ She raises her fists.
I stare blankly. Is she expecting me to perform some sort of martial arts manoeuvre? Because Mum made me take taekwondo when I was eight and it was a fail.
‘Don’t just stand there, kid. Attack me.’
‘Attack you?’
‘Yeah, come at me.’
I sigh. I step toward her and swing a punch at her face. She ducks, then pivots. My legs buckle, and I hit the floor, wincing as my back meets the surface.
‘Well, that was pretty pathetic,’ Opel says as I scramble to my feet.
‘Sorry, I’m not exactly accustomed to hitting people.’
‘If you’re planning on surviving, you better get comfortable with it. Otherwise, you’re gonna spend a lot of time kissing the floor.’
I take another swing at her, but she effortlessly sidesteps me.
Again and again, I attempt to land a punch, and each time, Opel dances out of my way.
I finally let my arms drop. What’s the use?
‘You’re not even trying. The quicker you grasp some offence and defence, the quicker Tar can stop babysitting you.’
‘I never asked him to do that. Nathaniel was the one who suggested—’
‘Tar and I should be focused on the Dark Friars and finding out what Draven is up to. Instead, we’ve got to protect the newbie.’
My muscles tense involuntarily. Why can she get under my skin so quickly? I’m getting hot, and something is bubbling away deep inside me.
‘You haven’t joined some cutesy college club. This is a job. And just like any job, some people are better suited for it than others.’ She narrows her eyes at me. ‘And some are simply not suited at all.’
I lunge forward and swing my fist. Opel narrowly evades my first punch, but I twist, and my second punch makes contact. Her body jerks backward, and crashes into the padded wall before crumpling to the floor.
Heat is radiating all over me. My knuckles tingle. My abilities must have taken over.
‘That’s more like it.’ Opel pulls herself up from the floor.
I mimic a boxer, raising my fists in readiness. Tariq said to use my emotions, to direct them. Well, now’s the time to try that, I guess.
Opel charges at me. She launches a kick and I block it. She follows it with a combination of punches, and I evade each one. She’s quick, but I should be quicker.
She lands an elbow to the side of my head. I use the opening to counter. She stumbles, dropping to her knees.
‘Not bad for a newbie, huh?’ I grin.
She rolls away, regaining her footing. I charge forward. She spins. Her foot connects with my face. I narrowly block the follow-up kick.
As she attempts another kick, I catch her leg in mid-air. I grip tightly and swing her around. I build up a little momentum before releasing her. She tumbles across the floor, ending up on her front.
This time, she takes a little longer getting to her feet. Maybe I took it a step too far? She takes a deep breath in, shaking her head. She looks poised to go again.
‘Opel, maybe we should—’
A surge of energy takes hold of me. My body stiffens. I no longer have control of myself. My gaze shifts to Opel, who has her hand extended in my direction.
‘Opel, what are you…’
My feet leave the floor. I begin levitating a few inches off the ground. It’s both exhilarating and unsettling.
‘Put me down!’ I shout.
‘Why? You used your powers. I’m just using mine.’
She floats me a little higher. My stomach lurches with every movement. It’s becoming less exhilarating by the second. I’m beginning to wonder how far my vomit would travel, being this high up.
Cool air rushes past.
‘Opel!’ Tariq has burst into the Fishtank. ‘What the fuck. Put him down.’
Opel hesitates for a moment, then lets her arm drop, releasing me from her hold. I descend too quickly to steady myself when I land, and I fall backward.
Tariq rushes to my side.
‘Are you alright?’ he says, pulling me to a seated position.
‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘What the hell, Opel?’ Tariq says.
‘Chill, Tar. I was just playing.’
Tariq helps me to my feet.
‘I’m fine, honestly.’
‘See, unharmed,’ Opel says, pulling her hair back with a scrunchie.
‘What if something went wrong, Opel? He might not have been.’ Tariq’s tone is stern. I’ve never heard him like this.
Opel scoffs. ‘Training is training, Tar. He’s going to face a lot worse things than me out there.’
‘Stop treating him like your sparring partner. He’s not Thomas!’ Tariq thunders.
Opel studies Tariq for a moment. She looks as if she’s about to say something, but instead, she exits the tank, grabbing her bag and phone, and storms through the double doors of the training room.
Tariq shifts his attention back to me. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
I meet his eyes and words falter. I just nod.
‘You should get cleaned up. The Guild will be expecting you soon.’
I almost forgot. The Guild. This day has already felt so long. With everything that’s happened the past couple of days, I’m drained, and meeting important people isn’t exactly on my wish list right now.