Much to my surprise, I saw Ms. Hollister slowly break out in a wide, pleased smile before nodding approvingly. “That, Ms. Blake, is an excellent hypothesis. While it would be a bit difficult to speculate on any kind of sociological ideals centuries ago, we can accurately gauge just how humanity views fey within the last few decades based upon news articles and scientific data regarding the subject.”
“Ms. Hollister,” a girl off to the side asked, “how does this help us? Those of us that live in the U.S. don’t really have any kind of a say when it comes to the government. It’s not like we can defend ourselves when some crackpot like Booker decides he wants to make it illegal to be fey.”
“Unfortunately,” the teacher sighed, “you’re correct about that. Guys, I didn’t bring up this subject to scare you. The fact is, this wasn’t supposed to come up until later this semester, but I felt it should be addressed now in light of Mr. Westlake’s announcement. The fact of the matter is, there aren’t too many resources available to fey when it comes to defending ourselves against the government. Canada and other countries have improved greatly, allowing fey to hold public and governmental positions including Parliament, but the U.S. is obviously pretty hesitant to give up that kind of control.”
“So, what are you saying?” a boy by the name of Pete asked rather aggressively. “Would it be better for all fey to just leave the U.S. and immigrate to another country?”
“Certainly not,” Ms. Hollister replied tartly. “I would never ask anyone to leave their home or their country just because of some racist bigots. I’m telling you this because knowledge is power, sometimes even more so than your fey abilities. Maybe one of you will take up the challenge of allowing fey to participate in U.S. politics. Maybe one of you will become a senator or governor and be the ones to start change in the country.”
“Whatever happens,” she said earnestly, leaning forward, “I want you kids to have all the tools you need to be able to understand the history of our race, how we might be perceived by others, and maybe give one or more of you an idea on how to make a change for the better.”
It was a pretty speech, I’ll give her that, but I seriously had my doubts when it came to making any kind of significant change. While I wasn’t a news junkie or anything, I’d seen more than enough in my so-far brief lifetime to know that when it came to politics, people really didn’t change. If people were anti-fey, they stayed that way, regardless of the evidence given to them. Even scarier, Westlake’s announcement had the potential to bring every anti-fey nut job out of the woodwork to start spewing hate. Would there really be enough good and decent voices out there to drown out those racist cries for action?
My wolf considered the whole situation a threat to my home territory, one that should be dealt with swiftly and ruthlessly. Honestly, I was kind of inclined to agree with her.
Tearmann Insititute, Newfoundland, Office of Scott Wellman
“Come in,” Scott said distractedly as he banged away on the keyboard.
“Busy?” Rebecca asked as she poked her head in through the doorway after opening it a bit.
Sighing, Scott sat back and shook his head out of frustration as opposed to the negative. “I’ve been fielding emails and phone calls from distraught parents all morning,” he grumped, any and all trace of his typically proper tone and accent gone. “A lot of folks want to pull their kids out of the school and get them back home, which is insane because, if you think about it, Canada is a lot safer than the U.S. for fey,” he finished in disbelief.
Stepping into the office and closing the door, Rebecca walked over and placed a tall, steaming cup of coffee in front of the harried headmaster before sitting down and taking a sip from her own. “Scott, these are worried parents. You have to realize that Harold Westlake essentially declared war against fey as a big part of his candidacy speech. It doesn’t matter that it’s very likely he’ll either drop out or get kicked out early; what he did was essentially ignite every protective instinct in these parents. A big part of that is to have their children close to them, not thousands of miles away.”
Scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, Scott grunted out a sound of aggravation as he leaned back heavily in his chair. For several moments, the pair sat in a comfortable silence born from years of working closely together. That silence was eventually broken by Scott sitting upright again and looking at his friend and colleague with a very serious and worried look. “He could win.”
Blinking, Rebecca raised a curious eyebrow at this rather direct statement. “What makes you say that? We’ve seen things like this before, and it’s always died off before it could get any real traction.”
“It’s different now,” the headmaster said, standing and turning to look out his window at the expansive garden area within the circle of Foghlaim. “It’s been years since someone went after fey this hard, and opinions have changed a lot since then. There’s a lot of support for fey out there, but the voices on the opposite end have gotten louder and louder each year.” Turning slightly, he looked at the elegant brunette woman in the charcoal gray suit over his shoulder. “And they’ve added to their number just as much. I know you don’t really deal with social media all that much,” he told her with a slight smile, one that she returned unabashed, “but I do. I need to so I can try and stay on top of what’s happening with my kids. These days, every post, every news story, every video on YouTube involving fey has been utterly swamped with anti-fey comments. Some of them are pretty severe.”
“That isn’t the entire country,” Rebecca pointed out, “and it’s not an accurate representation of the U.S.’s population as a whole. Any sociology expert would tell you that.”
“No, you’re right,” Scott admitted as he reclaimed his seat behind his desk, “but it does represent a percentage of the population; one that’s grown every year. I know every ‘expert’ on the news has been saying there’s no way Westlake will make it past the primaries, but it’s not a guarantee. What if he not only gets past the primaries, but actually wins the election?”
Maybe it was the earnestness in his voice, or perhaps it was the roiling fear and concern that Rebecca was able to sense coming from him even without the use of her fey gift, but the slightly aloof demeanor she’d maintained since the start of the conversation vanished. “Do you really think that’s possible?” she asked quietly.
“More than possible,” the headmaster said darkly.
For a moment, the psychologist was confused at how certain the headmaster could be so certain of this before the answer suddenly popped into her head. “How could they possibly know about it?” she asked in amazement.
With a sad smile, Scott glanced out the window once more, his gaze focusing on the plethora of flowers before shifting to the trees. “The wind carried the message. It took a bit I’m sure, so I don’t know how long ago it was sent, but there’s no doubt that people’s opinion on fey has shifted pretty significantly over the years. Maybe it’s because more have been popping up in the big cities trying to use their abilities for criminal activity, or maybe false rumors got started somewhere and just took off. Whatever the reason,” he said, taking a deep breath, “Westlake obviously knows it’s the perfect time to fan those flames and get people worked up into a frenzy.”
“There are lots of good people out there…”
“Good people don’t always win!” Scott snapped, causing Rebecca to draw back and blink in shock at his sudden eruption anger. “You know that just as much as I do. It would be nice if life gave them bonus points and treated them like an after school special, but we both know it doesn’t work that way. Good people get targeted just as much as the bad, probably even more so, and they end up losing a lot more.”
“Well what can we do?” Rebecca asked cautiously, reaching out with her gift to try and feel where Scott was going with all of this. Amidst the boiling anger he was feeling, something she suspected echoed back to a decade ago, there was a dark sense of anticipation. It was as though the h
eadmaster, someone Rebecca held in the highest esteem, was preparing to do something that was completely out of character for him. “Scott, what are you planning?” she demanded worriedly, already thinking about what techniques she could use to diffuse the situation.
“I’m not planning anything,” he said as Rebecca could feel his emotions settle and calm, “I don’t need to.”
“Then what…” Realization hit her like a burst of light illuminating a darkened room. How had she not even considered this before now when it was so obvious? “Have you been in contact with him?”
Scott shook his head and smiled a little. “No, but do you really think he’d sit by and do nothing?”
“Of course not,” Rebecca replied, though she didn’t share in his obvious excitement about what might come, “but what are we going to do about the students and parents who are worried? It’s not like we can tell them that…”
“No, certainly not,” the headmaster said, the more upper-crust properness returning to his voice, a sure sign that he wasn’t feeling so frazzled anymore. “What we can do Jasmine has already started doing. She’s been telling the students in her Fey Studies class about previous attempts by the U.S. government to do something like this in the past and failing. It’s only a stop-gap, I know,” he said, raising a hand to forestall Rebecca’s counter argument, “but it’s the best we can do for the kids for now. As far as the parents go, I’d like your help with some of the more worried cases. I think you’re far more equipped to handle such emotionally charged conversation than I am.”
“Of course,” Rebecca agreed with a nod. “Feel free to give any of them my extension as long as I’m not in session with anyone, or I can call them back.” Rising, the statuesque woman started for the door before pausing and looking back at the man as he started to resume the email he’d been working on. “And Scott,” she said, causing him to glance up at her, “you know you can come talk to me too, anytime.”
Scott smiled at the offer and nodded. “I think I may take you up on that in a couple of days,” he said, “once I everything calms down a little.”
“Excellent,” the psychologist said approvingly, “I’ll book you in for one o’clock two weeks from today.”
The headmaster opened his mouth to tell the woman that he didn’t know if he’d be available then, but she sailed out of the office and closed the door before he could utter a syllable. Chuckling to himself, Scott picked up his desk phone and rang his assistant in the outer office. “Mary, could you please put a session with Rebecca in my schedule at one o’clock two weeks from today.”
“I already did Mr. Wellman,” the astute, sometimes overly so in Scott’s opinion, woman said with a clear smile in her voice.
“Thank you Mary,” he said with honest gratitude before hanging up the phone.
Resuming the email once more, Scott found the words he needed in order to try and calm these worried parents flowed far more freely than they had ten minutes ago.
Tearman Institute, Newfoundland, Infirmary
Tiffany Howard looked up from the paperwork she and her assistant were looking over as the door to the facility opened and a beautiful red-headed girl walked in. Just as when Tiffany had seen her the previous day, the girl offered her a warm, completely honest smile. “Hello Dr. Howard,” she greeted cheerfully, though there seemed to be a trace of tightness in her voice.
“Hello Ashley,” the doctor returned, straightening. “Had a good day so far?”
“Not too bad,” the girl replied, though it was clear there was something on her mind.
Considering the current hot button topic today, it didn’t take much of a leap to figure out what that something was. “Worried about Harold Westlake huh?”
Nodding, the girl wrapped her arms around her stomach in an obvious gesture of self-soothing. “Uh huh.”
“Well,” the doctor said as she came around the desk to slip an arm over her shoulders, “I wouldn’t worry too much. I’m sure Jasmine already told how things like this have been tried before in the States.”
“Yeah,” Ashley admitted with a sigh as she allowed herself to be led further into the infirmary and into Tiffany’s office, “but she doesn’t know him like we do.”
Well that certainly got her attention. “What do you mean?” she asked carefully, indicating Ashley should sit down as she took her own chair behind the desk.
“Kitty used to work for him,” the girl explained, “at least until her mind was transferred into her current body and her old one was destroyed.”
“I… I had no idea,” Tiffany said, blinking in shock while simultaneously trying to process this information.
“She doesn’t remember much about him, since her personal memories were erased when it happened,” the girl went on, “but she does know he has a lot of power and influence and isn’t shy about using them to get what he wants.”
It would be so easy, too easy, to get sidetracked into a discussion about Harold Westlake and the bombshell he’d dropped on the world yesterday. Because of that Tiffany made a concerted effort not to do exactly that. “Well, we’ll just have to see how it plays out, but I wouldn’t be too worried. Like Jasmine said, this has been tried before and it failed. Anyway,” she went on, deliberately shifting subjects, “why don’t we pick up where we left off yesterday.”
Now a whole new kind of nervousness entered into the girl’s now widened eyes. “Ummm, okay,” she agreed in a slightly trembling voice.
Considering what they had done the previous day, the nervousness and fear wasn’t exactly unfounded. Since Tiffany was the school’s physician and resident fey healer, it had fallen to her to take young Ashley under her wing and teach her about her gift and the different ways it could be utilized.
Granted, the redhead possessed the ability to heal at a level that left Tiffany completely in the dust from a power standpoint, but it caused the poor girl to pass out or faint every time she used it. She had a suspicion why this might be happening, but it would require a bit of experimentation to figure it out. Of course, that meant Ashley had to use her power, and pass out from it, so it was pretty understandable why she’d be a bit leery.
“Now,” Tiffany said as she stood from the desk and came around to stand before Ashley and lean against it, “we didn’t really get into how you use your power since, well, you fainted when you used it to heal the cut on my arm, and that kind of took up a fair bit of our time.”
“I’m sorry about that…” Ashley started to quickly say.
“You don’t have anything apologize for,” the doctor interrupted her. “In fact, you should never apologize for your abilities. You possess the kind of power that I would say very few people on the planet have. Yes, there are other fey out there who can heal people, myself included, but nowhere near the level I’ve been told you are capable of. Which is why,” she said with a soft smile, “I might have a theory as to why it always causes you to faint.”
“Really?” the girl said anxiously, her eyes widening with obvious hope.
“Possibly,” the doctor hedged. “First, tell me the process you use to activate your power. Can you describe what it is you do?”
Settling back in her chair, Ashley took on a look of introspection as she considered the question and how to best phrase her answer. “The best description I can give you is that when I start, I feel a kind of warmth in my chest that I will down my arms and into my hands and then sort of… push into the person.”
Out of that entire explanation, one word really stuck out to Tiffany and she latched onto it. “Push? Are you certain that’s what you do?”
Without hesitation, Ashley nodded. “Yes. In fact, I started experimenting with it back home by doing quick little… pulses I guess is the right word. It made me feel really weak instead of passing out, but it also wasn’t anywhere near as effective.”
Taking this additional information in, the physician nodded slowly before smiling. “Okay, you’ve all but confirmed my running hypothesis of why you
keep passing out when you heal someone.”
The sudden, almost casual way the doctor addressed this revelation had the girl blinking in stunned surprise before her gaze shifted to one of careful suspicion. “And that is?”
“When a healer uses their power, they don’t have an infinite amount to draw from. Using our ability to heal is a lot like a professional athlete participating in their sport of choice. It stresses our body, but at a level that can be sustained for a certain period of time. Try and push past that and your body simply can’t maintain that level of stress and simply shuts down.”
“So that’s why I pass out?” Ashley asked. “Because my power stresses my body to the point it can’t handle it anymore? That seems kind of pointless,” she said with a frown. “You say I have this ability to heal that is stronger than probably anyone else, but I can barely use it for a few minutes before passing out. Yet you and probably every other healer can use your power just fine.”
“It’s not the level of power,” Tiffany clarified with a smile, “it’s the way you’re using it. See,” she explained when Ashley’s brow furrowed in confusion, “when you use your power you push, and I’m guessing you push pretty hard. That means you’re essentially gathering up every scrap of power you possess and shoving it into the person you’re healing all at once. That taxes your body to its limit, like putting absolutely everything you have into running a one hundred yard dash.”
“But it’s the only way I know how to use it,” the girl argued, unable to keep the clear feeling of dejection out of her voice.
“Wrong,” Tiffany said in a grandiose voice while pointing to the ceiling, “it was the only way you know how to use it. Starting today, we’re going to work on refining how you use your ability. Now that I have a pretty good idea of what the problem is and if you’re as fast a learner as I suspect you are, it shouldn’t take very long for you to be able to heal someone without feeling even a hint of weakness. Come with me,” she ordered, popping up from the desk and striding out the door of her office.
Marking Territory: An Awakened Novel (The Rising Storm Book 1) Page 4
