by Eden Briar
I find myself nodding along.
“Let sleeping dragons lie. Got it. But still… if they spend months at a time awake… wouldn’t they have been caught on camera by now?”
“They probably have been. Thankfully, humans are great at not seeing what’s right in front of them. Also, when dragons are awake, they only spend a portion of their time in their dragon forms.”
“Wait… dragons are shifters?”
“Yes and no. Neither they nor the shifters would classify dragons as a mere shifter species. But they can change form, exclusively to human.”
“Why would they do that?” If I was a dragon, capable of flying and breathing fire, why would I want to transform into an awkward, wingless human?
“Primarily to mate, when the urge takes them.”
“They don’t mate with other dragons?”
Ben starts to look the slightest bit embarrassed, like a biology teacher about to cover the chapter on human reproduction for the first time. “They do. But… it’s unusual for two dragons to be awake at the same time. Plus, they’re sort of fractious, you know? Historically, dragons don’t get on well with other dragons. Lots of scorched earth, literally.”
“Instead they seek out humans to mate?”
“Mostly they choose people from the magic races, because they’re strong enough to bear dragon’s magic, actually survive the sex, and even carry a half-dragon child. A human wouldn’t live through that.”
“Are there lots of half-dragons wandering around?” I haven’t met any in the guild, as far as I know.
“Not many, maybe not even any now. Those that were known didn’t survive the Cull.”
He waits a beat to see if I’m going to ask, and then nods in satisfaction. “I see Jazz hasn’t kept you in the dark about everything.”
Deciding I’ve heard enough about dragons, and not wanting to rehash the details of the Cull, I change the topic. “How are sorcerers different from casters?”
He lights up at the question, as relieved as I am to move onto something else.
“Okay, that’s an easy one. See, caster magic is intrinsic, like Jazz said. It comes from within you, and you work it through your body—your hands, normally—channeling its use. Sorcerers have that same raw power, but it’s undirected. They have to focus it extrinsically. That means channeling it through something—a tool, a potion, an object of some sort. They have the ability to imbue objects with power and mix that with different elements to increase or alter that power. The more powerful the elements they get hold of, the more energy a sorcerer can wield. Which is why dragon’s blood is prized so highly.”
I feel like I’m slowly getting to grips with this. Casters intrinsic, sorcerers extrinsic.
“Where do druids fit into all this?”
“Druidic power is a little less clear-cut. Like casters, they sometimes have intrinsic abilities that they can use on themselves or on other people. They also sometimes have the power of prophecy, like clairvoyants, and they have a strong affinity with nature, which can manifest as elemental magic. They can imbue objects with power through the use of runes.”
I think of Jazz and the rune-locked door.
“Can anyone use those objects?”
“Lower-level runes are accessible to pretty much anyone with magic. But the higher-level stuff, no. You’d probably injure yourself trying.”
“Then there are different levels of power?” I ask. “How are they classified?”
I’m finally starting to get a handle on things, and it feels good not to be at odds with Ben. If we can’t be anything more, maybe we can at least be friends.
17
My sleep is haunted by whispers, eyes watching me from the shadows. The next morning does not start off well thanks to all the tossing and turning. As strange as it sounds, I really miss Zac. Far more than makes sense given how long I knew him. Bleary-eyed, I throw on the first set of clean clothes I find and stumble downstairs to the kitchen. My mission? Coffee. At least two cups. With cream. And sugar.
I pick up the coffee jar and twist the lid. The jar disintegrates into a crumble of glass, plastic, and coffee granules. I stare helplessly at it, hearing Ben groan.
“Indy, that was our last jar of coffee. What were you thinking?”
I’m still staring down at the mess in my hands.
“I don’t know what happened.”
“What happened is you’ve just made yourself public enemy number one,” Jazz jokes from behind me. “Word will spread, and soon everyone will know that you are the reason for today’s caffeine prohibition.”
“But I… I didn’t…”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jazz,” Lynea says. “We’ll survive a few hours without coffee.”
I glance over my shoulder to see that what looks like half the household has descended on the kitchen since I walked into the room.
“Indy, here,” Ben says quietly, holding a trash can out. I drop what remains of the coffee jar into it, careful not to cut my hands on the glass.
“We won’t have to do without coffee,” Archer calls, striding toward the door. “Peter keeps extra in the stores for just this sort of emergency, after what happened the last time.”
“Are you okay?” Ben asks me quietly as everyone disperses.
“Yeah.” I can’t quite figure out what just happened.
“Omelet, anyone?” Jazz is talking to the room at large, but his gaze is on me, a hint of concern in his eyes.
“I’m not really hungry.” My need for coffee has deserted me, so I turn and make for the door.
I hurry up the stairs to my room, hearing footsteps follow me. As I reach the door to my bedroom, Jazz calls my name. I grab the doorknob as I turn to him, wincing when I hear the crack and splinter of breaking wood. The doorknob comes away in my hand. I turn to face Jazz, putting two and two together, and brandishing the doorknob at him.
“Look what you made me do!”
Jazz looks from the doorknob to me, confused. “What did I make you do, exactly?”
“This!” I insist, shaking the doorknob at him. “And the coffee jar.”
He holds up both hands. “I’m not following. You’re having a clumsy morning, sure. We’ve all had them.”
“This is not clumsiness.” I drop the doorknob and slam my hand against the wall in frustration. The sound it makes draws both our gazes, and I pull my hand away to see I’ve left an imprint on the plaster.
“Huh, that’s…” Jazz trails off.
“Your fault.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Zac kisses me, I get vampire superspeed. You kiss me, and now I’m breaking everything I touch.”
He stares at me for a long moment before realization dawns.
“Oh. Ohh. Huh. That’s a new one on me.”
My stomach twists viciously at his words.
“Don’t say that. Say this is something totally normal, like Lynea’s been saying. That I’m just coming into my powers, and it’s a total coincidence that I’m acquiring the abilities of people I’m making out with.”
“Sure, I can tell you all that,” Jazz says easily. “Would you believe me if I did?”
He reaches out and takes my hands, uncurling my fingers that have tightened into fists.
“No.” I struggle to hold back the tears.
The truth is, I’m scared. I want someone to tell me everything’s okay, but I know it’s a lie. That picture in the book Jazz showed me keeps flashing through my mind. I don’t want that to be me.
He squeezes my hands gently.
“Lynea is right about one thing. For some people, their abilities come in stages. For others, they hit all at once. Puberty is tough for a lot of the magic and master races.”
“Was it like that for you?” Since Evan’s warning on the day we met, I’ve avoided asking Jazz too many personal questions. Especially about his shifter side.
“Some of it. I got strong pretty fast, but for me, it was a relief. All those years of hiding,
of waiting for someone to come kill us, and I finally had the strength to keep myself safe.”
A horrible thought occurs to me.
“What if I’m taking this from you? Stealing your strength.” That would not be okay.
“If that were true, I’m sure I’d notice. I don’t feel any different. If this is something that’s happened because of you and me, then we’ll deal with it. But Lynea’s probably right; this is just you coming into your powers. You and Zac, me and you… it’s a coincidence.”
Jazz sounds so certain that it settles my fears.
“Okay. But what am I going to do about this?” I gesture to the broken doorknob. At this rate, I’m going to cause serious structural damage.
“Only way to learn to control your strength is practice.” He tugs at my hands. “Come on.”
I follow him down to the basement. It’s still early, and the training room is empty.
Jazz does a handstand and walks to the center of the mats before flipping over and grinning as he beckons me closer.
“Come on. I’ve been itching to see what you can do. Lynea wouldn’t let me before. She said you weren’t ready. But she also said not to underestimate you, that you’ve got an ace up your sleeve. I’m guessing it’s something to do with the way you sidestepped that vampire.”
“Almost sidestepped,” I correct.
“I bet you could run rings around them now.” His grin fades when I don’t return it.
“Let’s just get a handle on how things are right now. You’ll feel better once you know where you stand. Plus, you should knock me on my ass at least once… it’s character-building.”
Jazz has a point. Hiding from this isn’t going to make it go away. What if the next thing I break isn’t something easily fixed? Like someone’s head.
I nod slowly, coming to join him in the center of the mats.
He spreads his arms wide.
“Give it your all.”
I hold his gaze, prepared to do my thing and see through his eyes. My edge, as Lynea calls it.
Except it’s like slamming into a brick wall. Nothing happens.
“Ready?” Jazz asks, and then throws a punch before I can answer.
I throw my hands up to block as I dodge out of the way. But while I block Jazz’s punch easily, I’m not as fast as I should be. It throws me off my game, and I wind up lying on the mats, staring up at Jazz, my eyebrows drawn down in confusion.
“Indy?” He frowns down at me, reaching out a hand to help me up.
“I’ve lost my edge. And I think I’m slowing down.”
“Ah, old age setting in,” he says sagely, tugging me upright.
“It’s not funny, Jazz. I can’t… it doesn’t work with you, not the way it did with Lynea.”
I’ve never met anyone whose eyes I couldn’t see through.
“Who else have you tried with since you’ve been here?”
“Um… just Lynea. Matthias too.”
“Did that work?”
“Sort of.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to explain that was why I’d been searching out information on Seekers, but I don’t want to get sidetracked.
Jazz bounces on the balls of his feet, and then takes off toward the door.
“We need a bigger sample size,” he calls over his shoulder.
I go to follow, then change my mind and sit cross-legged on the mats.
It isn’t long before Jazz is back, with half a dozen guild members in tow. They’re all people I’ve met since my arrival, and all of them look a little bemused. They readily agree when Jazz explains what he wants them to do.
“Just line up, one at a time, and try to attack Indy. Nothing too specialized, guys. Pull your punches. She’s only a beginner.”
I get to my feet, stand opposite my first opponent, and focus. This time, it’s easy to block the blow I can see coming. It’s the same with the next person and the one after that. I go through all six in a matter of minutes, able to see through each of their eyes and anticipate their moves. I’m still slower than I was yesterday, but it’s a relief to know that’s all that’s changed. By the end, even the strongest of the group are looking at me with grudging respect. Jazz thanks them and tells them to get lost, coming to stand opposite me again.
“Try me once more.”
But no. It’s like hitting a solid barrier. I shake my head.
“Okay,” he says easily. “Then let’s focus on what we came here for. Your strength—how to use it and how not to deprive the guild house of much-needed coffee.”
Grinning, I take a stance and raise my hands. “Come at me.”
He moves, feinting left and sweeping my legs out from under me. I wind up flat on my back with him on top of me. Bracing my legs and arms, I flip him, putting me on top. His eyes widen a little before he flips us again, pinning me to the floor.
“I’m pretty certain you couldn’t do that a week ago.” He gets to his feet and pulls me up after him. “You got all that from one kiss?”
I don’t quite know how to answer that. “Maybe? Or maybe Lynea’s right.”
But she never said anything about new abilities waxing and waning. And there’s no denying that while my strength has ramped up, my speed has fallen. The easiest explanation is the newfound closeness between me and Jazz, and the distance between me and Zac.
Jazz gets more methodical after that, and I see a different side to him as he gets me to move various weights around the room, lifting them, carrying them, throwing them. I break three pieces of equipment during our morning of experimentation. By the end, I have a better handle on how much force I need to open a door as opposed to, say, throwing a fifty-five-pound kettlebell across the room.
As we finish up, I turn to Jazz.
“Show off for me?”
He folds his arms across his chest, an expression of bemusement on his face.
“What did you have in mind?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I just like the way you move.”
There’s strength, power, and a certain agile grace in Jazz. I feel like I could watch him forever.
With a wry shake of his head, he bounds to one corner of the mat. He winks at me, then springs into a complicated set of flips, turns, and leaps. There are ropes hanging from the ceiling, and he grabs one of them and climbs it, hanging by one arm as he waves down at me. Then he lets go, lets himself fall, landing in an effortless crouch as he grins over at me. But his eyes move past me, the smile falling from his face.
I follow his gaze, but all I see is the mirror along the wall, my reflection, and… a wolf.
I jerk back around, but it’s just Jazz crouched on the mats, his eyes wide. He shakes his head a little, pushing to his feet. When I glance at the mirror again, the wolf is gone, Jazz’s reflection exactly as it should be.
“Hell, Indy. What was that?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. Even though it’s the truth, the words feel dishonest. Whatever just happened, it happened because of me.
18
I consider another venture into the library after lunch, keen to follow up on a few things Ben has told me about and wanting to distract myself from the wolf in the mirror and what that might mean.
“Indy, wait.” I hear Ben’s voice, turning to see him hurrying up the corridor toward me.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing.” He holds out a piece of paper. “I thought of a few books last night. They might help you get up to speed on things.”
“Cool, thanks.”
I reach out eagerly to take it. In my enthusiasm, I move too quickly, and Ben practically jumps out of reach. I freeze, like a deer in headlights. I’m pretty sure our skin didn’t touch.
“Ben, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice is a little shaky. “It’s fine, I—”
He hurriedly puts the piece of paper down on a small table next to us, pushing it toward me.
“I should—” He turns to leave.
“Wait, Ben
…”
“Don’t, Indy,” he all but pleads. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is. I was stupid to think that it would all be fine if we were just careful. I can’t risk it. I don’t want to watch you die and then spend the rest of my life wondering if I’m the one bringing that fate down on your head.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
His glare makes me wince. That was totally not the right thing to say.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah, it was. Don’t worry, you’re not the first to say it. Everyone here thinks I just need to push through it. They don’t see what I see. They don’t feel what I feel.”
“Ben?” I take a step toward him, but he backs up, warding me off.
“I’ll give Jazz a few pointers about bringing your knowledge up to scratch. The books should help. Ask Peter if you’re having trouble finding anything. It normally means they’re somewhere on that mess he calls his desk.”
I can see Ben withdrawing, his expression shuttering, the coldness returning.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I barely know you, and I’ve already let my guard down. I have to protect myself.” He pauses, steels himself, and adds, “You’re not worth it.”
The words sting.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, I mean it. You walk in off the street, no talent, no training. Do you think we’ve never met people like you before, con artists willing to try their luck, out for all they can get? Archer was right, we should have handed you over to the clairvoyants and let them deal with you. If you’re looking for a home, this isn’t it. If you’re looking for a family, it’s not us. Find someone else to leech off.”
“Ben,” a voice says sharply behind me. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Jazz, but even his presence can’t stop the tears from trailing down my cheeks.
