by Gregory Ashe
Chapter 35, Thursday 29 September
Through the ceiling above me, the attic insulation, the shingles of the roof, black and dull in the darkness, I could feel it. A massive thunderstorm, energy roiling within it, was moving in above West Marshall. Through the house, I could feel lines of energy vibrating almost imperceptibly. Even in the air around me, brushing my skin with invisible tendrils, the smallest sparks of life and light. All of this rushed in on me in a moment, as though I had suddenly opened my eyes, as if I could see again after months of blindness. It came with the faint prickling, the stirring of the hair on the back of my neck, that you feel near a static charge. It came with an explosion of grief and hope and joy.
I ripped the key from my neck, yanked the chest out from under the bed, and unlocked it. My hands were trembling so badly that it took me three tries to get the key into the lock. When the lid flipped open, I grabbed my ground from the velvet-lined tray and, not even bothering to tie it to my hand, I slammed the metal disc against the outlet, trapping it there with my hand.
Energy rushed into me. It happened so easily, so naturally, that for a moment I couldn’t believe I’d ever not been able to do this. It was warm as summer sunlight on your back, and it moved quick and light as a breeze, racing through me. I watched the purple-white glow appear under my skin, making me shine like some Old World god, a creature of power. I drew it in, like drawing a breath, sending the light flaring under my skin. When I reached my limit, I drew back, lacing the ground on with numb fingers. Only long years of practice let me tie the cords. My body had already begun catalyzing the energy, refining it, making it something even more powerful, something I could use as I wished. To heal. To destroy.
Thoughts and plans blazed through my head. I needed to get to Olivia’s, fast. But I needed to be prepared. Prepared for the grower. Four foci per arm; that was the maximum before they started interfering with each other. My copper traveler—I needed precision, so the gold one was out, and Mike had the silver one. A silver pusher. My gold burner. I hadn’t let Mike use a burner, and for good reason. They’re incredibly destructive, and I only had a gold one. My gold blaster—Mike had the silver one, and I might need the extra power. Gold eggshell. Physical defense; I wasn’t sure what I’d run into, so I wanted to be prepared. A copper blink. A silver blaster—a slightly different design than I had given Mike, but basically the same. A copper energy shell. The last one wouldn’t be much use against a grower, but old habits died hard, and I was much more used to having defend myself against other quickeners. I started to close the chest, but in a last minute decision, I popped it open again. With quick, furtive gestures—as though trying to keep from burning myself—I grabbed the book, found the leather cord, and pulled the focus out from between its pages. I strung it over my neck, let the gold lie flat against my chest under my shirt. I didn’t know what it did. Christopher had refused to tell me, and I had never tried to use it. But I would take it tonight, as a reminder, if nothing else.
My body had catalyzed some of the energy by now. The glow was starting to fade, but I could still see the light moving beneath my skin, in time with my excited pulse. I reached into the well of energy, felt it surge up in response. Gingerly, I fed it into the copper traveler, pictured Olivia’s house. The world dissolved to white around me.
