Facing the Gray

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Ash and Revinee soon found an unoccupied house. They didn’t even have to break into the back yard; the gate was unlocked. They rode through the yard and down a trail leading to the deserted beach. Soon they reached a tall rock formation Konner had described to them. They dismounted between the rocks and the ocean, and Ash moved to the edge of the formation, positioning himself to watch the back of a small, blue house.

  Half an hour later, a man exited the back of the house and strode toward the beach. He was middle-aged, which Ash had expected. According to Konner, the man was visiting his elderly mother. But he walked like a younger man, and he looked strong. Ash stepped back behind the rocks and wiped his damp palms on his pants. He wished he’d been more consistent with his fighting training in recent months.

  “Is he coming?” Revinee asked, her rough voice quiet.

  Ash nodded. “You ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Ash took a deep breath and ran out from behind the rocks, straight toward the man. “Help!” he cried. “Help!”

  Without hesitation, the man ran toward him. That didn’t surprise Ash. The man was a safety officer, and he wouldn’t mind his weekly walk on the beach being interrupted by a panicked citizen. He probably lived for such opportunities. Guilt speared into Ash’s gut.

  But he continued to play his role. He took a great gulp of air and gasped, “My wife, she fell off our horse! She’s unconscious! Please help!”

  The officer ran toward the rocks, and Ash had to sprint to keep up with him. When they arrived, the man knelt next to Revinee, who was lying on the sand, her limbs arranged in an awkward position. Her smooth eyelids were closed, and her full lips were parted.

  “Don’t move her,” the officer said. “I’m not a healer, but I can evaluate her to determine—”

  His words ended in a grunt as Ash knocked him flat onto his back. Revinee leapt up and joined the fray.

  It was not an easy kill. As Ash had feared, the officer was in good shape for his age. The same could be said for Revinee, but she was at least two decades older than the man. It took every bit of Ash’s and Revinee’s combined strength to overpower him.

  They had to play dirty to keep him down, Ash aiming multiple punches at the man’s groin. While Ash held him down, Revinee placed a rope under his neck and twisted the ends together several times. She stole what she thought was his last breath four times, and each time he fought back, preventing her from further tightening the rope around his neck. On the fifth try, Ash at last subdued him long enough for Revinee to take his breath and twist the rope again, cutting off his airway.

  Even then, the man fought back longer and more vigorously than Ash would have thought possible. Finally, his movements slowed and then stopped. Then the officer’s eyes glowed with a sudden, golden light, his magic declaring his will to live after his muscles had ceased moving.

  Ash flashed back to his conversation with Konner, who’d barely contained his excitement that the officer who needed to be killed happened to be gifted. Konner had seemed to believe this was “meant to be.” Ash had insisted Sava would not have given a man a gift so he could be killed for it.

  But amidst all his moral disquietude, Ash understood the stakes if this man became the leader of the safety officers. And so he had given in, agreeing to Konner’s terrible plan.

  The magical glow faded, and the man’s open eyes no longer focused on anything. Ash instructed Revinee to keep the rope tight for several more minutes, just to be sure the officer didn’t start breathing again.

  “Can you take over?” she asked.

  Ash looked at her white-knuckled, trembling hands. She was holding the twisted rope with all her strength, but it was clear the fight had taxed her.

  “I’m sorry, you have to be the one to take his life.” But even as Ash spoke the words, he knew the truth. Sure, Revinee had killed the man, but Ash was just as responsible for the murder as she was. He thought he might vomit.

  They’d murdered a safety officer. It hadn’t been clean, easy, or merciful. Ash couldn’t even blame it on vindictive fury as he could with his wife’s death. This officer, who visited his elderly mother every week, was surely a better man than Ash. And they’d taken his life to provide protection for Konnor, his cadre of corrupt officers, and, ultimately, the Grays.

  Ash felt no joy when pain entered Revinee’s eyes and gray light entered her hands. He mounted his horse and reached out a hand to help her up.

  Wrey was waiting for them outside Revinee’s house. Her eyes widened when Ash approached, and he wondered what she read in his expression. But she didn’t say a word.

  Inside, Ash lay down, and Wrey put him to sleep. When he woke, his first thought was that the short rest hadn’t softened any memories of what had happened on the beach. He tried to put it out of his mind.

  His second thought was that he felt different though he couldn’t discern the nature of the changes. “It worked, didn’t it?” he asked, and his mouth felt odd when he spoke.

  Revinee held up a mirror. Ash looked, and he saw the face of a stranger—no, not a stranger, but someone he didn’t quite know. It was like looking at the face of his cousin. His cheekbones were higher and more prominent than they’d been before, his eyes set further apart. His nose was narrower, his lips fuller. The teeth that had overlapped each other were each in their proper place.

  Wrey stared at him. “She was right; you’re just as handsome as you were before,” she said. “Maybe more so.” Her words were matter-of-fact, not at all flirtatious. The tone would have made him laugh on any other day.

  “It’s amazing,” he said, his voice flat.

  “It is,” Revinee agreed, but she was looking at her own hands, not at Ash’s face.

  “You’ll have to wear gloves from now on,” Ash said.

  “I’ll purchase some tomorrow.” She stepped closer to Ash. “And now that we’re both Grays, will you tell me why you needed a new face? The truth this time?”

  Ash looked at her beautiful eyes. He wanted to trust her, but he knew so little about her. He settled on a version of the truth. “There are people who may want to find me,” he said. “I’ve managed not to encounter them, but in the future, I may hold a more prominent position. If I’m recognized, it could ruin everything the Grays are working for.”

  Revinee pursed her lips and watched him closely. He didn’t volunteer any more information. At last, she said, “When you attain that prominent position, I hope you remember me.”

  “You’re a Gray now. We won’t forget you.”

  But Ash wished he could forget her, wished he could forget this day had ever happened. He knew he wouldn’t; when he looked in the mirror, his eyes would see his new bone structure and straight teeth, but his mind would see the face of a dead safety officer.

  Ash and Wrey rode home. In the back yard of the Gray House, she said, “Tell me what happened.”

  He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. Every detail. When she asked if he was afraid he’d be caught, he told her the head safety officer had commissioned the killing.

  Wrey was silent. Finally, Ash looked at her. “Say something.”

  She didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty

  As frustrated as our students get when encountering resistance, the beauty of such moments is that it forces them to examine their motives. I find sun-blessed youths often learn to be honest with themselves and with others earlier than their peers.

  -From Training Sun-Blessed Students by Ellea Kariana

  Fighting the Grays was a lot more boring than Tavi had expected.

  She’d been in Savala for a month, and the most exciting development was that, according to Evitt, Ash had gotten his face physically altered by a touch-blessed woman. Tavi and the other Golds found this news mind-boggling. But the information didn’t help them a bit; they were still in a new city with no clear plan for stopping the Grays.

  Evitt gave Pala reports several days a week, but nothing important seemed to be happening in Konner Burr
ell’s house. So the Golds focused on settling into their new home in Savala.

  Reba had moved into a healing house two blocks from the midwife house. Tavi tried to forget her old friend existed, but she often overheard Pala saying that Reba was doing well in her apprenticeship.

  Jenevy had begun her apprenticeship with the midwives of the house, and judging from her expression at bedtime—exhausted but smiling, whether she’d had a daytime shift or worked all night—Tavi surmised it was a good fit.

  Tullen wanted to work for a butcher, but they all agreed it would be too public of a position. Some of the Grays had gotten a good look at Tullen when he helped Tavi escape the previous year, and it would be a pity if they were all discovered because Tullen sold a pot roast to the wrong person. Instead, he worked in the kitchen of the midwife house. One morning, Tavi spent a full hour reading in the dining room next to the kitchen, glancing through the open door every few minutes, admiring Tullen in his white apron. He’d smiled at her when he’d caught her staring, and she’d packed up her books and moved to her room, promising herself she wouldn’t indulge such a weakness again.

  Tavi, Narre, and Sall spent their mornings studying textbooks that Pala had arranged for a nearby school to provide. Along with Tullen, they participated in the midwives’ magical training every afternoon, joined by twenty students from the area. Pala had even convinced the other midwives to allow a safety officer to teach basic combat skills once a week.

  Several days into their stay, Tavi complained to Pala about the magical training. “I’m wasting my time. I can’t practice magic if I can’t access it.”

  “And you can’t access it if you don’t keep trying,” Pala had countered. “Plus, you mustn’t underestimate the value of the theoretical knowledge you get from the lectures.” Tavi had wanted to argue that tedious lectures didn’t do her any good, but it was a debate she’d never win. She’d dropped the subject.

  After one of these lectures, Tavi and the others walked to the practicum room. Just as in Oren, the head midwife in Savala had posted a list of each trainee’s practicum assignments. Today’s list, however, was short. It read:

  ALL TRAINEES: ASCs

  Tavi groaned. ASCs were Activation Speed Cycles. Trainees would find partners and compete to see who could activate and release their gift the most times in fifteen minutes. They’d repeat this until practicum was over, switching partners after half an hour.

  Tavi would have to sit this one out. She’d spent recent practicums trying to activate her gifts, and she was never successful. She definitely wasn’t up for a speed test.

  Narre approached the supervising midwife, and Tavi watched them hold a brief, hushed conversation. At its conclusion, the midwife smiled, nodded, and turned to the trainees. “It’s relatively warm today, and we’ll be doing our practicum outside,” she said.

  Tavi caught Narre smiling at her, and she knew her cousin had asked for the location change on Tavi’s behalf. Being bored in the breezy back yard would be more pleasant than being bored inside, and Tavi gave Narre a nod of gratitude.

  The midwife house’s spacious back yard had a grassy area surrounded by lovely landscaping and twisting gravel paths. Women often walked through it while in labor. On this day, however, the yard was empty. Each trainee duo found a place to do their ASCs, and Tavi sat on a bench on the porch, watching them with an occasional yawn.

  “This seat taken?”

  Tavi looked up into Evitt’s smiling face and scooted to make room for him. Evitt had spent a lot of time with Tavi and her friends since their arrival. “I don’t know many people my age, since I don’t go to school,” he’d told Tavi.

  After a full day working in Konner Burrell’s garden, Evitt usually went to the midwife house. If there were no messages to deliver, he ate dinner there. Pala always made sure there was enough food for him. She seemed to have taken to Evitt, and every time Tavi saw the stern midwife acting like a doting auntie, it made her smile.

  Evitt was a dependable gardener and an effective messenger, but his information stream seemed to be drying up. Tavi wondered if Konner suspected something and was guarding his words more carefully. She’d talked to the other Golds about it, and they all agreed they needed to move things forward.

  Tavi turned to Evitt. “I’m glad you’re here; I’ve been tasked with asking for your help.”

  His eyebrows raised. “What do you need?”

  “We need more information about the Grays,” Tavi said. “Based on what Reba told us, we’re concerned they may be acting soon.”

  “Really?” Evitt asked. “They don’t seem to be doing much at all these days, from what I can tell.”

  “That might be the case,” Tavi said, “but we moved here to stop them, and so far we feel useless. We want to visit Konner’s house for ourselves. I know it’s asking a lot, but we hoped you could sneak us in. Even if all we do is watch from the garden to see if we can pick up something you haven’t noticed. I’ve been there; I know there are plenty of places to hide.”

  Evitt grimaced. “I don’t know, that doesn’t sound safe. I don’t want any of you getting hurt. Mr. Burrell isn’t someone you’d want to make angry.”

  Tavi raised an eyebrow. “I’ve spent time as Konner Burrell’s prisoner. I know he’s dangerous.”

  Evitt gave her an embarrassed smile. “That’s true.”

  “We’ll be as careful as we can,” Tavi assured him, “but we’ve got to do something useful. Please help us.”

  He paused for a moment before nodding, his expression sober. “I can probably get you in through the back fence,” he said. “I should only take one of you at a time, though. It’ll make it less risky.”

  “That’s the only way I’d want to do it,” Tavi said. If Evitt had offered to take all of them together, she would have refused. There was no way she’d put her friends in danger by being in public in Savala with them, at Konner Burrell’s house, no less.

  Evitt nodded slowly. “I’ll work on it.”

  “Let me know when you’re ready, and one of us will come with you.”

  Evitt nodded, then leaned back on the bench, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles. He turned his head toward Tavi. “I take it your magic’s still in hiding?”

  “Yes.” It was a sensitive topic to Tavi, but when Evitt brought it up, she didn’t mind so much, since he didn’t have magic either. Misty had always been Tavi’s confidant when she’d wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t sun-blessed. Evitt was no Misty, of course, but she felt comfortable confiding in him about these things. She gestured to the lawn. “It’s infuriating. The game they’re playing isn’t fun, but it would be better than sitting on this bench.”

  “Well, I’ll keep you company for a little while, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure.”

  Tavi and Evitt watched the trainees for a few minutes. Then he turned to her and asked, “What’s your favorite part of being sun-blessed?”

  “I guess I’ve never thought about that question.” Tavi looked into the distance for a few minutes, and Evitt didn’t push her to answer. Finally, she said, “I love how it feels when magic fills me up from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It’s like a warm blanket, but it’s freeing, not constrictive. It’s peaceful and exciting at the same time. It’s like nothing else.”

  “You must miss it.”

  “I do.” Tavi was surprised when her voice caught on the words. “I miss a lot right now,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.”

  They watched the practicum a little longer, and then Evitt asked, “What’s your least favorite part of being sun-blessed?”

  Tavi swallowed hard. “Is that a trick question?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well . . . I thought it was obvious.”

  Evitt shrugged. “Maybe not to someone who’s not magical.”

  “True. Sorry.” Tavi clenched her hands together, yearning to fill them—and the rest of herself—with m
agic. “My least favorite part of being sun-blessed is that I can’t always use my magic when or how I want to,” she said. “And I don’t just mean when it’s dormant. I mean all the time. I think it’s something that bothers most Blessed. We’re left to the whims of some Great Man in the Sky who decides whether or not our magic will work, and his decisions usually don’t even make sense. Imagine running as fast as you can, feeling free as a bird, then slamming face-first into a brick wall you didn’t even see. That’s resistance.”

  When Tavi finished talking, she looked at Evitt and found him leaning forward, an elbow propped on his leg, watching her intently. “I guess it’s no wonder the Grays have grown so fast.”

  “Sure, they offer something irresistible,” Tavi said. “But they kill to get it. And even those of us with magic can’t stop them, because Sava hits us with resistance at just the time we need our magic the most, when we’re trying to save someone we love.”

  Tavi turned her head away, trying to hold back tears. Why had she said that? She didn’t know Evitt well enough to talk to him about Misty’s death. But lately she’d been tortured by the memory of everything that had held her back that night, and she hadn’t shared her anger with anyone. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “You got more than you bargained for with your questions, I guess.”

  Tavi felt a light touch on her arm, and she looked down to see Evitt’s hand resting there. Her eyes met his, and what she saw there was unexpected: kindness and sorrow. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.” Several seconds passed. “You don’t have to,” he said, “but if you’d like to talk about what happened that day, you can.”

  Tavi didn’t think she wanted to, but when she started with one simple sentence, meant to put him off, she couldn’t stop talking. She told him about her birthday starting so perfectly. About the surprise party and the presents. And then the memories poured out. The monstrous man. The woman who put Misty to sleep. Tullen carrying Tavi away, then bringing her back. Magic, strangled by resistance. Tullen holding her back. The knife. Tullen carrying her to the house. Her screams. Her helplessness.