SHARD: Book One of The Shard Trilogy (A YA Sci-fi Teens with Powers Series)

by A. M. Pierre

  “Without the medieval theatrics, please.”

  Daisuke’s shoulders dropped glumly. “Fine, but it’s not as much fun that way. We were right—Kaia has abilities. But that’s not the best part . . . Come on, ask me what the best part is.”

  “Fine,” Alizée said. “What’s the best part?”

  “In a minute, sheesh, don’t be so impatient.”

  A small snarl curled up Alizée’s mouth. Dice tried not to laugh. Some people were far too easy to rile. “Kidding! First off, we have identified her element.” Daisuke put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest in his best dramatic pose. “She’s silicon!”

  Silence in the room. “That is . . . very good to hear,” Ezio finally said.

  “Isn’t it?” Daisuke said. “It’d be cool regardless, but you know how we can only control our elements in their pure forms? She can control hers in compounds.”

  Alizée looked bored. “Lovely. And why is this such a big deal to you?”

  “Because, my chemistry-challenged detractor, it means—once her power has been developed, of course—she’ll be able to interact with an astounding range of objects. Glass—main ingredient is silicon dioxide. Most sand—the same. Semiconductors in microchips—silicon. The movements in many watches—quartz, which is crystalline silicon dioxide. It’s the most common metalloid there is, which means there will be something she can manipulate pretty much everywhere she goes. And that, my friends, is the best part.” Daisuke flopped back down in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest in triumph.

  “Why is she different with the powers than us?” Vladimir asked.

  “Short answer: I don’t know. Long answer: I have absolutely positively in no way, shape, or form any possible explanation or even the beginning of a hypothesis for this completely unexpected turn of events. It is cool, though, ain’t it?”

  “Yes, Daisuke,” Ezio said. “We can all agree it is very cool. Have you informed Ms. Smith as to your findings yet?”

  “I sent her a copy of my report, but actual discussion? No. I thought if she had anything to add she’d probably do it during lunch. That’ll be Kaia’s first time meeting her, too.”

  Ezio nodded in agreement. “Does anyone else have any questions? No? Then I suggest we all head to the dining room. I believe Ms. Jones has been preparing feijoada as the main course, as today was Gabriela’s turn to pick.”

  * * *

  “Do you like it?” Gabriela smiled eagerly as Kaia took her first bite of the thick stew in front of her. It was definitely hearty, with meat and beans barely covered by a strong salty broth. Kaia was so hungry she wouldn’t have cared what they placed in front of her, but this really hit the spot. “It’s called feijoada,” Gabriela continued. “It’s one of my favorites. Tia Maria used to make it for me. Ms. Jones’ version is good, but it isn’t quite the same. Maybe she needs a big clay pot like Tia Maria used.”

  Kaia looked up. “Tia Maria? Was she like your sister or something?”

  Gabriela’s expression froze. “No. ‘Tia’ means aunt in Portuguese.” Her head dropped, and she stared at the table. “But she wasn’t my real aunt. I just called her that.”

  Kaia focused on her stew. Way to put my foot in it. “This is really good. Fay-shoo . . . what did you call it?”

  Gabriela smiled, just barely. “Feijoada. I’m glad you like it.”

  Ezio cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Daisuke has told us the exciting news about Kaia’s test results. I am sure we would all love to have her become part of our team, but, despite how she arrived here,” he cast a pointed glance at Connor, “the final decision is up to her.” Ezio looked right at her, and Kaia struggled to hold his gaze. “We can feel like a bit of an eclectic group, but I think you could really become something amazing here.” He gave her that sad-eyed heart-melting smile she’d seen yesterday.

  She looked back at her stew so she could stop thinking about the little golden flecks in his brown eyes and focus on his offer instead. The funny thing is, I’m actually considering it. I guess finding out you can shatter glass with your mind can change your priorities pretty quickly. Another thought came on the heels of the first—a thought that took her breath away. Maybe I could even, who knows, belong here. “I’d like to stay, thank you.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” a voice boomed out. A vid screen dropped from the ceiling behind Ezio. The face that appeared was a woman in her mid-’20’s, with wavy hair such a dark shade of brown it was almost black, but with eyes of a brilliant, piercing ice blue. She wore very little makeup with the sole (and striking) exception of bright red lipstick. “Hello, Ms. Davis,” the woman said. “I’m so very pleased to meet you. You can call me Ms. Smith.”

  * * *

  Connor just didn’t get it. He thought the new girl had been thawing a little, but one word from a new face and she was ducking her head again and pulling at her hair. It wasn’t that he blamed her for being nervous around Ms. Smith. Frankly, the woman gave Connor the willies. Her eyes always reminded him of ice, and not because of their color.

  But the Ice Queen’s actually acting a bit warm and fuzzy at the moment, so why the duck and cover? All through Dice’s explanation of the test results, all through Ms. Smith’s ecstatic reactions, Kaia barely moved. She played with her necklace and her hair, but she never looked up. Until Ezio spoke, that is.

  Connor suppressed a groan. Of course. The magic charm himself. Whenever the puppy-eyed Mr. Rossi speaks, all female-folk for miles around go silent in anticipation of whatever words of wisdom those dulcet tones will impart next.

  “Since you will be staying with us for the time being, you should know the house rules. As you may have noticed, we have a cook who prepares our meals, but all other household chores fall to us.”

  Ah, yes. The chores discussion. Talk of laundry and hoovering and even—dare it be said—dusting. With romantic topics like those at hand, who needs chocolates and flowers to woo the ladies? And yet, there she was, staring at Ezio as if he were reciting a Shakespearean sonnet instead of reminding her to sort her whites and colors.

  Connor did his best not to let his frustration show. It wasn’t like he fancied her or anything. He just wanted a chance, for once, to get to know a girl before she got moony-eyed over the angsty Italian. Maybe Connor was going about things the wrong way. He imagined himself dressed up in an absurdly billowing shirt and sitting next to Kaia on a gondola in Venice at midnight, like on the cover of a cheesy romance novel. I lean over and whisper in her ear, “Oh, Kaia, how I’ve longed to mop the floors with you—I mean literally mop floors. Look, I brought my mop with me—it even has a telescopic handle!” And she looks deep into my eyes and sighs, “The most any other man would talk about was washing dishes, but floors! Oh, Connor!” “Oh, Kaia!” Lips lock. Curtain drops. The End. Connor laughed out loud in spite of himself.

  And found everyone at the table staring at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rhys,” Ms. Smith said, “but is there something about elemental safety protocols you find particularly amusing?”

  “Uh, no, ma’am, sorry ’bout that.” Connor hoped he looked apologetic enough.

  “As I was saying, we take safety very seriously here. When practicing using your abilities, always follow the procedures on page 10 of the Mark’s Place Manual . . .”

  Connor’s eyes glazed over. He didn’t understand why they all had to sit through these introductory sessions every single time somebody new came in. It felt like they were forcing him to repeat an exam he’d already passed.

  He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, hoping to find something there to distract him. A fly flew over his head, and he immediately perked up. He also immediately felt unbelievably pathetic that the arrival of a fly had made him happy.

  Connor was watching the fly make its seventeenth lap around the room and wondering if it might change it up a bit wit
h a figure eight or something when he realized everyone had gone completely quiet. He looked down to see all eyes on him yet again. He tried an ingratiating grin.

  Ms. Smith wasn’t having it. “Really, Mr. Rhys, is our discussion that boring?”

  “Well . . . ,” Connor began, but Gabby kicked him under the table. “Of course not, ma’am.”

  “So would you like to begin?”

  “Of course I would, ma’am.” If I knew what topic I was supposed to be beginning. “The first responsibility of a powered operative is to follow the orders of The Company, accomplishing the missions assigned by The Company, defending those too weak to defend themselves . . .”

  “‘Basic Responsibilities’? Sorry, Mr. Rhys, but we’re past those.”

  “How far past?”

  Ms. Smith stared at him with those frozen eyes. “The Rules of Conduct.”

  “Oh, right. Rule number one: Never discuss your powers with anyone outside The Company. Number two: Never use your powers for individual profit. Number three: Never use your powers against your friends.”

  “Actually, that’s number four,” Alizée said with a smirk.

  Connor had known she could never miss an opportunity to correct him. Had counted on it, in fact. “You’re absolutely right, Alley Cat. I’m sorry.” He scrunched up his face like he was thinking extra hard. “What was number three again? I can’t seem to remember . . .”

  Alizée’s eyes narrowed. “No dating among team members.”

  “Thanks, I always forget that one.” He winked at her. “Number five: Never use your abilities in view of the public. Six: Never leave a fellow operative behind. Seven: Protect innocent civilians at all costs. And last but not least, number eight: Never use your powers to kill.” He looked up at Ms. Smith. “How’d I do?”

  “Adequately, Mr. Rhys, adequately.” She gave him one last withering glare before sliding her gaze to Kaia with a smile. “I know it’s an awful lot to take in, dear, but you’ll have plenty of time to look over your new books, manuals, and informational brochures this afternoon. Before that, though, are there any questions you’d like to ask me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Even now, Kaia still wasn’t looking at her. “What,” she paused, “what is The Company?” Quiet in the room. Words tumbled from Kaia’s mouth. “I mean, I know you said they give us missions to go help people, but is it a government agency or something? I’m not trying to be nosy or anything, I just wanted to know who I would be working for.” Connor hadn’t thought it anatomically possible, but she somehow ducked her head down even further.

  “No need to be scared, Ms. Davis, it’s quite a normal question.” Ms. Smith’s voice was kind, but Connor still didn’t trust her eyes. Of course, he never trusted her eyes, so perhaps it wasn’t as telling as he thought it was. “We don’t work for any government. We are a completely independent organization.”

  A slight furrow appeared between Kaia’s eyebrows. “You mean, like the World Security Officers?”

  “Not exactly, my dear. While we do share their international and autonomous nature, we are not law enforcement. More . . . special ops. We operate around the world, going places where no one else can, helping those who no one else will. Many many people have been saved through our actions.”

  “Indeed,” Dice interrupted. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Sydney Opera House Event or the Tokyo Tower Massacre.” Kaia nodded. “Ah, but have you heard of the Antarctic Nuclear Winter, the Poisoning of Beijing, or even the Great Fire of Mexico City?” Kaia shook her head. “Of course you haven’t! Because we stopped them.”

  “Yes, as I was saying, Mr. Yamamoto, we have done much good, but we have also made powerful enemies, people who would do terrible things to you if they got a hold of you. It might seem a bit shady to call ourselves ‘The Company,’ but it preserves our anonymity. In the end, it’s for everyone’s protection.”

  “Yep,” Dice piped up from the other side of the table, “have to keep our secret identities secret. We’re like our own little superhero team. We don’t have an official team name, though I keep trying to get everyone to agree on one.”

  “It is not because we are not wanting a name,” Vladimir said. “It is because,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “well, it is because we . . . we just . . .”

  “I’ll rip the bandage off,” Gabriela said. “It’s because the names you pick are lame.”

  Dice looked completely shocked. “My names? Lame?” He jumped up and struck a superhero-style pose. “What part of The Elemental Brigade or The Indispensable Infantry is lame?” He looked to Kaia. “See, The Indispensable Infantry is cool because it uses synonyms for Elemental Brigade—except they’re alliterative!”

  Kaia blinked. “They sound like very nice names.”

  “Please, don’t encourage him.” Gabriela rested her head wearily on her hand. “The list never ends, and it never gets better.”

  “Oh, please,” Dice said, “you just don’t have any taste.”

  “Children!” Ms. Smith’s voice boomed out, and Dice sat sulkily back in his seat. “As entertaining as it is to hear you squabble about such incredibly important things, I really must be going. Ms. Davis, study up this evening. You’ll start your training tomorrow morning with . . . ,” she glanced down, “Mr. Rossi, I believe. Is that right?”

  Ezio nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Connor caught the look of pure joy that flashed across Kaia’s face. He tried not to gag.

  “That’s all for today. Take care of our new recruit, everyone.” Ms. Smith turned her gaze to Kaia. “I’m expecting great things from you, Ms. Davis.” She gave one last blood-red smile. “This is where it all begins.”

  Kaia looked at herself in the mirror and frowned when the exact same reflection from five minutes ago stared back. When they’d told her about her required training outfit, her only concern had been if she could wear her necklace. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that the clothes themselves might pose a problem.

  They were pretty standard—a pair of loose-fitting black capris and a dark blue tank top accented with two large white Chinese-looking characters. The problem was, no matter how many times she pulled at it, the tank top wouldn’t go down as far as she wanted in the back. It wasn’t showing skin or anything, but she still liked her shirts longer. It left her feeling, well, exposed somehow.

  They had given her a scrunchie to put her hair in a ponytail, but she didn’t give it a second glance. She looked at the clock on the wall. Time for my lesson, ready or not. After one last useless downward tug on her top, she opened her door.

  Okay, then. There’s a nice way to start the day. Facing away from her at the other end of the dark hallway was her instructor. Ezio may have been little more than a black outline against the bright light streaming from the training room, but that outline (and the tank top and knee-length shorts he wore) showed off the fact that there was a gym in Mark’s Place and he was a frequent visitor. The silhouette turned and waved. She waved back. I’m probably grinning like an idiot. “Hello!” he called out, with his charming British accent . . . wait, what?

  Connor jogged down the hallway. “Sorry Ezio couldn’t make it—he had a last-minute planning meeting for his upcoming mission. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to fill his shoes. A quick FYI, in case you were wondering about your shirt—the characters say ‘koumyou’ and could be translated as ‘hope’ or ‘bright future.’ Dice’s idea. He says it’s our motto.” He gave her a sideways look. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Let’s get started.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  She didn’t. “I always sound this way.”

  “Somehow I doubt that. Anyway, you don’t look fine. You’re scowling.”

  “I am not.” She was.

  “You still haven’t forgiven me for shooting you or dumping Coke on you, have you?”
<
br />   “That’s not it.”

  “So, you have forgiven me?”

  “No, I haven’t!” She pushed past him.

  “Okay, now I’m just confused.”

  She practically stomped by him. She knew she was mad—no, not mad, embarrassed—but she certainly didn’t want to admit why. She stepped into the well-lit practice area and tried to focus on her surroundings. It was pretty much just a big empty room with high ceilings, wood floors, and long curtains drawn over sections of the two far walls. There weren’t any glass bottles to be seen, so she didn’t have a clue what they’d be practicing with. It would be a good space for a dance class but not for manipulating things that weren’t there.

  “Is it not the right size?” Connor gestured to her tank top as he walked through the door. She hadn’t realized she was still pulling on it. “Sometimes when we do the conversion from American to European sizes, it goes a bit pear-shaped.”

  Kaia whipped her head around. “It goes a bit what?”

  “Pear-shaped. You know, it goes wrong. Like you get two sizes too big or too small.” He looked thoroughly confused. “Why? What did you think I meant?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled.

  “Seriously, is there something wrong with it? Would a petite size work better?”

  She glared at him. “So now you think I’m short?”

  He gave her a swift look up and down. “Um . . . no?”

  “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

  “Look,” Connor said, “you’ve got me stumped. I knew the things I’ve done to you recently had you teed off, and I’m sorry, but I honestly have no idea what I did to you this morning. Well, aside from implying you’re short, which, frankly, you are.”

  She stared at him for a second. “Wow. I’m actually more annoyed now than before you ‘apologized,’ but that wasn’t the reason.”