Chapter 27 #2
I fling a wave of ephemera ahead of me to smack into the enchanted stretch of soil, willing the energies gripping the earth there to settle. A tingle races up my arms when Asher’s magic joins mine.
As the ground stops shuddering, our other teammates rush forward to help their classmates out of the impromptu ditch. The two teens scramble over the ridges, brushing dirt off their clothes but not looking too worse for wear.
“What the fuck was that?” mutters the boy who was complaining before. Apparently being challenged annoys him just as much as boredom.
I study the broken earth and propel some more ephemera at it to smooth the ridges back into the chasm. I don’t know if our instructor expects us to tidy up as well as survive the trials he set up, but it can’t hurt.
And I’m not convinced Ross or Jovak would care enough to put Beacon’s grounds back to rights.
Asher straightens up from helping the girl whose ankle twisted as she fell and shoots me a grateful smile.
A wobble runs through my pulse—delight that he noticed, that I made him happy, and worry that even that small sign of warmth between us will give away our bond.
The girl tests her ankle and looks steady enough. She lifts her chin. “Okay, where to next?”
The disgruntled guy waves toward the nearest structure. “Let’s stick closer to the buildings. That’s better than being out in the open if you’re in hostile territory, right?”
I’m not going to argue, but I do pick up my pace so I’m at the front of the pack when we reach the walkway. The younger students shouldn’t have to take most of the risk.
Our shoes rap harder against the pocked concrete. I focus on the tickles of ephemera all around us, braced for any shift, still feeling Byron’s hidden presence trailing behind us.
I reach automatically toward my imagined other him, as if the blend of memory and conjecture will be able to explain.
“When I dedicate myself to a cause, I’m never backing down,” that Byron says, which I suppose might be a true enough answer. I never could completely shake the feeling that he saw me as a duty rather than a prize.
I want to believe I’ve seen more earnest affection than that in this version of him…
Is that hope a different sort of betrayal?
Jovak comes up beside me, ambling along like we’re out for a pleasant stroll. “You’re handling the challenges well.”
I’d rather he wasn’t potentially distracting me by talking to me, but being rude doesn’t seem wise. “Thanks. I’m doing my best.”
“You must be looking forward to getting your glim soon. With your family history, I’m sure it’ll be an impressive one.”
His tone is casually conversational, nothing remotely accusing in it, but my lungs constrict.
Does he suspect somehow?
I flex my fingers in the glove that, yes, is still covering my bond mark before matching his blasé attitude. “I guess we’ll see. It seems like it’s impossible to predict these things.”
Who could have imagined that bloom talents like my parents would have a kid with one of the most selfishly brutal blight glims there is?
I suppose I should be glad I have it and not someone who’d actually enjoy the benefits.
Who’d throw themselves into every possible vice because any harm they did to their body, their power would just transfer to someone else.
Who’d let their glim sap away strength from everyone around them just to keep themselves in absolutely perfect shape.
Who’d hurt themselves near anyone they dislike, dealing out damage without anyone knowing the source.
I wish powers like this didn’t exist in the first place.
“Something to look forward to,” Jovak says. “And clearly you’ll master it well too.”
I think of the years I spent digging up every esoteric theory and magical tale I could uncover, hoping for more answers to stifle my power and failing, and nearly choke on a pained guffaw.
Before I have to answer, the professor drifts farther away from our group.
Apprehension ripples through my senses. Why would he be getting some distance, unless…?
We’re just coming up on the corner of the building. Only a paved throughway about ten feet wide stretches between this building and its neighbor.
When I hesitate, peering into the darkness, the impatient guy shoulders past me and strides onward.
“Cam!” one of the others protests, and we hustle after him.
Just as an immense shape lunges out of the shadows with a blood-curdling roar.
My legs freeze in place. All I can do in those first few seconds as my heartbeat thunders in my ears is stare at the massive grizzly bear that’s somehow barged into the schoolyard.
The creature swings its head from side to side. The nearest—previously dead—security lamp sizzles on with a spurt of electricity I suspect I can thank Byron’s glim for.
It’s hard to feel thankful about anything when I get my first clear glimpse of the creature’s eyes.
They’re dull and unfocused, like the cat I crossed paths with a few weeks ago that Salvatore slaughtered for me.
My voice spills breathless from my lips. “It’s void. Get back!”
The ephemera-less bear swipes out a paw at the same moment. I whip a strand of energy around Cam’s waist and yank him out of the way as I propel myself forward. The protective shield I’ve practiced more than almost any other technique hums into place around me.
You never know what a void will do, but the vacant-headed creatures are always mad with rage. The younger students might not even have trained with smaller animals yet.
I’ve never heard of anyone tangling with a bear—not in the city, anyway.
The void creature lets out another roar and barges toward me. The smack of its paw reverberates through my shield, but the layer of condensed ephemera deflects the blow.
“We go for the head,” Asher calls out.
Yes. The fastest way to stop a void is to remove its head from its body. You can’t knock it out or injure in any other way that’ll end its rampage.
Once something’s gone void, all the ephemera gone from its body and mind, there’s no saving it.
I don’t have Salvatore’s knife-turned-katana. None of us has any weapons at all.
Keeping myself between the bear and the younger students, I aim a bolt of pure magic at the creature’s neck.
Blood wells up amid the matted fur. The bear grunts but barely wavers before pounding on my shield again.
Asher has taken a different tactic, probably because he’s so used to working with a sword. A beam of collected energy glimmers in his hands, forming its own sort of blade. He jabs at the bear’s legs, attempting to weaken it so it drops to all fours and leaves its head vulnerable.
I reach toward the ephemera around me again. Before I fully grasp hold, a sudden force slams into my own legs from behind.
The impact reverberates through my knees. I stagger, my grip on my magic wobbling.
The bear lashes out and rakes its claws right through my shoulder.
At least, that’s what it looks like happens. Pain lances through my flesh. But as I wrench myself backward with a whimper, my school shirt remains pristine white and un-gouged.