He smiles, but there is no impressed look on his face. “You found it? What gives you the right to take something that isn’t yours?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t being used. Considering it was buried behind mountains of other things, I don’t think it’s been used for some time.”
“The first Alchemist in Pensatore created it. It started as a journal, a way for her to record all of the plants she used to help heal wounds. Over the years, it expanded into what it is now. It’s only used now as a reference but most of us know the usable ingredients in Strega by heart. It’s not a light read nor an entertaining one.”
“You’re right, it’s not an easy read, but it is interesting. Maddox assigned me here, I didn’t have much of a choice. It was this or learning to fight. Now that I am here, though, I enjoy it. I find it fascinating to see how all of these things come together. I know I’m just a stocker, but maybe one day, I can do what you do and create.”
Ollie stares at me, contemplation in his eyes. I never would have thought that this conversation would lead me here. I simply wanted to ask him questions about Pensatore so that I could better learn about my new home. He tilts the handle of the spoon towards me in a silent invitation. I grab it from him, trying to keep up the pace of stirring that he’s been maintaining for the last ten minutes or so.
“Ranidon blood,” he says in a completely different tone than he has ever taken with me, “is found inside the –“
“Stem of the Ranidon,” I finish. “The stem is thick and white in color. When snapped open, the blood will seep out. It is similar in texture to sap or honey and gets its color from the soil in which it grows. You can find the plant near any tike tree, which are located within the forest just outside of the northern gate of this settlement. They do not grow above ground –”
He holds up his hand. “That’s enough.” Ollie yanks the spoon back out of my grasp and nudges his chin in the direction of the crate of vials I brought in with me.
I hand him one vial at a time and he slowly fills each one with the clear potion. “We have a system here. Each new Alchemist starts where you are now. It takes years of learning and working your way up before you will be considered for a role as a creator.” He closes the last vial with a cork and then focuses on me. “If this is the job you want, then you have to earn it. You have to show me that you have the fortitude for it. That you are willing to put in the time and effort it takes.”
“I am.”
“Keep the book for now. Study it at night. Each day you will meet me here in this room and we will see how it goes.” I don’t try to hide the smile that forms. “We’re done for the day. Go home.”
“I’ll start moving the filled crates to the wagon,” I tell him.
This time he smiles. “Let someone else do it.”
I fly out the door of the Lab, nearly flinging myself into Damon who is sitting there on the steps, whistling a tune that I have never heard before. The sun is still high, and it’ll be hours before Violet finishes her daily torture with Lincoln. So instead of taking me back home, Damon leads me to the training fields where I can see her in action.
He listens silently as I tell him about everything that happened with Ollie. He waits until I go to take a breath before he says something. “I’m glad you like it with them. There are a few powerless witches and warlocks in Pensatore and they find it hard to fit in.”
I choose not to answer him. In fact, I choose to stay quiet in general. I don’t know why I don’t have an ability while Violet does and I’d rather not stew over what others deem a shortcoming. There’s still a chance that my power may surface. Regardless, Damon is right, I love working at the Lab and that probably won’t change, power or no power.
The training fields are littered with people. Some are brawling in fenced in pits while others run along the dirt trails. Damon doesn’t follow the natural path that has been paved due to constant traffic. Instead he decides to cut through the area that has straw dummies set up every few feet. I don’t question him, despite thinking I should.
I stay a few feet behind Damon but I know exactly where we are going. All I would have to do is follow the crack of thunder to know where to find Violet. She’s not in the training area necessarily, but is in the forest next to it. She told me as much when she finished the first day with Lincoln. That he had taken her far away from everyone else, someplace where no one could see her. She said that it was so he could torture her and have no witnesses. She wouldn’t listen to reason when I argued it was probably the safest place to learn to use her powers.
There’s a shrill whistle right next to my ear, loud enough and close enough that I squeal and jump to the side, covering my face with my arms. Once I realize that there’s no danger or bug buzzing attacking me, I look around. Damon doesn’t seem to have noticed the sound at all, and has continued walking without me.
To my left is a dummy, a knife buried to the hilt in the red circle on its forehead. I jerk around, seeing a familiar man standing several yards back. He’s lurched forward, his hand still slightly outstretched as though he had, just moments before, thrown a knife right next to my head. Kaleb. Unmistakeable with his holier than thou attitude. He reaches to his belt, grabbing another knife, then swirls around and releases it into the air. This one isn’t nearly as close to me as the previous one had been but I still cower, thinking he might hit me accidently.
He doesn’t. In fact, the second blade lands in the hilt of the first. I don’t know the first thing about throwing anything, but I have a feeling that what he just did is rather impressive. His face is impassive as he looks at me. There’s never been a sliver of any kind of emotion on him and it’s not normal. It’s scary actually.
I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind about doing something so dangerous with bystanders so close, but I am jerked away by Damon tugging at my arm.
“Stay away from him,” Damon says as he walks hastily away. “He’s not the friendliest of individuals.”
“You don’t say.” There’s definitely something wrong with him and a part of me wants to try to get to know him so I can find out what it is. “What’s his problem anyway?”
He glances over his shoulder, making sure there is enough distance between us and Kaleb, then lets me go. “He’s always been that way. He rarely speaks and when he does it’s to berate someone. The only ones he will really talk to are his brothers. He’s one of our spies. Spends much of his time far from here, living his life in the shadows. I’m told he is excellent at his job, but what he does just makes him that much more intimidating. People give him a wide berth and I suggest you do the same.”
We finally breach the treeline and start to zigzag our way towards Violet. I can’t see her yet, but I can hear her yelling even over the pops of thunder. “Isn’t he a Commander?”
“Yes,” Damon answers. “But that doesn’t make him approachable.”
I let the conversation die there. Violet has always hated that I’m such a people person. She criticizes how much I love getting to know people. I like to dig deeper than a favorite color or hobbies, I want to really get to know them, to find out what makes them tick. Kaleb just reached the top of that list.
The trees begin to thin and I can smell the lake before we reach it. It makes the air smell of fresh water and pine trees. And the sizzle of electricity.
“You are seriously getting on my nerves!” Violet yells as she flings her hand this way and that.
“Turn it off.” Lincoln doesn’t budge as Vi launches a string of electicity in every direction. “Make it stop.”
“Screw you!” She aims in his direction and yet he still doesn’t move. Violet has always been quick to anger. Sometimes she lashes out physically, but I’ve never seen her hurt someone when it wasn’t necessary. Normally, it is in self-defense or because she is protecting me.
When I was about 17, I was dating this boy. He adored me for the longest time and I had finally agreed to go out to eat with him one night. One night. Th
at’s all it was. One single dinner and I saw just how infatuated with me he was. It unnerved me and I made it clear to him that I didn’t want to see him again. He didn’t think that I meant what I said and it became a stalker situation. Again and again, I told him no. Each time I did, he took it as me asking him to try harder to win me over. Long story short, I called the cops and nothing came of it. When he broke into our apartment, Violet hit him over the head with a lamp. After a short tussle, he ended up falling down the stairs of the apartment building and broke his leg in two places. I never saw him again after that. Violet isn’t normally that extreme. Her words are strong but I know her intentions are good.
More lightning cracks overhead. She’s starting to get the hang of using her power, at least it seems that way. After she got back from the first day of training she told me what she had learned. She told me about the plan of how to get us back home too. She wanted to learn enough about using her ability until she could wield it to the point of exhaustion. The power would go away as if it never was and she would be normal again, then we could go home.
I didn’t say anything against it then or since. I think it’s a bad idea though. As much as I would love to go home and go back to normal, I’m not sure that that is even an option anymore. There are people after her – people that we know nothing about – and we would be easy targets for them if we went back to Miami or anywhere else on Earth for that matter. She’s a witch and she belongs here. I’m hoping that she realizes this on her own in the days to come. If not, I will figure something out to convince her to stay.
Even over Damon’s laughter, I can hear the crinkle of dried leaves behind me as someone new approaches. Dressed in black leather – something that I recently learned means that they are either soldiers or guards – he maneuvers around us, heading directly to Lincoln. Seeing this, Lincoln yells at him to stop and walks to him instead. Violet is still flinging her magic everywhere, cursing at no one in particular, so this isn’t surprising. The man whispers something in Lincoln’s ear then leaves in the direction that he came from.
“Once you start acting like an adult and stop using your magic like you’ve been told, you can go home.”
That gets my sister’s attention quickly. The yelling and screaming stops and her eyes squeeze shut as she tries to focus. I’ve always known her as a sister, but it was different. She was always protective of me and we bonded over several years. She even adopted me when she turned 18 so that she could get me out of foster care. I wasn’t old enough to work then, but somehow she made do. I never saw her those first few months before I turned 16. She worked all the time, trying to keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. She was still young, had no work experience or education. She made minimum wage and worked herself to exhaustion each and every day. When my birthday finally came, I told her that I was going to find a job for after school. She wouldn’t let me, she down right refused. She said that staying in school and focusing on my classes was all that I needed to do and that she would do the rest. I spent years hating myself for agreeing to it. She barely slept and I know she wasn’t eating enough.
She gave up everything for me. And now it’s my turn to do the same for her. To stay here and make sure that she is okay.
The lightning stops raining down and Violet smirks as though she knew how to make it stop all along and was just trying to make Lincoln mad. She loops her arm in mine, ignoring him completely when he tells her to be back at dawn.
“What is there to do in this boring place?” she asks Damon. “Is there a bar? I could really use a drink.”
Before Damon has a chance to respond, Violet is bent over, her hands on her ears, her eyes squeezed shut.
Snapping out of whatever it is, she looks freaked out. Violet spins round and round, her eyes darting in each direction as though looking for someone. Lincoln and the other man were already out of view, only the three of us were here.
“What’s wrong?” Damon asks a look of worry on his face.
“He was in my head,” she explains. “Talking to me.”
Damon laughs, shrugging it off. “That happens from time to time. It’s a Pensatore ability – telepathy.”
“Where people can put thoughts into your head?” I ask.
“Yup. It’s a one way connection. They speak to you, but you can’t answer back unless you share the ability. Who was it? Per law they are supposed to say who they are when communicating to you.”
“The Watcher,” Vi answers.
Damon’s brows shoot up. “Really? And what did he want?”
“Is this the guy from the gas station? White hair?” I ask.
Violet nods as Damon demands to know what a gas station is. “He said to go out and enjoy the night.”
She shrugs as though completely over the freak-out of having him talking inside of her mind and starts her charge toward the training fields and into town.
9
“The first day of every month Pensatore holds a carnival,” Damon explains as he leads us through the Market. The entire area has completely changed since this morning. Banners and flags hang from the buildings. Candles and torches light the space and bathe it in an orange glow. Drums and flutes mesh together in a harmony that isn’t as pleasant as it should be. Candied fruits and glazed meats are offered at every corner.
Dozens of winged people stand at the end of one of the long alleyways, all lined up along a bright red line drawn across the cobble stones. A horn blares, and the angels take a running head start then dart into the air. Puffs of wind slam down onto our heads as their wings scoop them higher and higher. Giant red colored rings have been set up along the rooftops making a course – a race between the angels.
Several enormous pairs of feet in front of me make me stop and look up. And up. And up. Giants of varying sizes are lined up, each with mallets the size of cars in their hands. One by one they approach a platform and slam down the mallet. Some walk away defeated, others raise their hands in triumph when they beat those before them in some contest of strength.
Beds covered in jewel colored blankets are set up every few feet, each with a witch or warlock sitting beside of it. The sign states: Only Dreamers have the ability to read your unconscious moments. I hasten around this area, not wanting to have anything to do with it.
Most of the stores are still open, employees standing outside the storefronts offering free samples of their goods to anyone willing to take them. I am one of those willing people seeing as I don’t have any money to buy anything here. Thus far, I’ve made out pretty well. There are potions vials stuffed in my pockets – I don’t know what they are for, but free is free. A new deep purple scarf is draped around my neck and a new bra is slung over my shoulder.
I try to focus on anything that doesn’t have to do with the last few days, but it’s proving near impossible. Grabbing a handful of seeds from a basket next to a fenced in pen, I hold them out for some weird beast to eat. It’s like a petting zoo, only with animals that are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The creature slides its wet tongue along the palm of my hand scooping up the seeds. Its massive jaws open, revealing row after row of viciously sharp teeth – for some reason, however, I’m not worried that it will try to eat me. Larger than a standard horse, it has antlers almost as big as it’s body and dark hunter green fur and wings curled tightly along its ribs. A man standing inside of the pen with the animal tells me that it is a Peryton named Mac. I don’t respond, but I do reach out and pet it once it’s is done eating from my hand.
The last few days have been a struggle for me. While angry Lincoln is pretty funny, he’s also evil. He’s upped my exercise routines and trying to hit him with lightning has lost its luster. There seems to be something bothering him but I don’t know him well enough to ask, not that I’d care to even if I did. Someone else’s drama and worry is just that … theirs. I have my own problems to deal with anyway. And that’s exactly what I’m doing, dealing with them.
I’m going to get Emmy out
of here, and soon. I know how to wield my magic now, but I still struggle to rein it back in sometimes. I tell myself that that’s why I haven’t purged yet, because I don’t have control. But that’s not true. I don’t need to be great at making it stop if I don’t plan on stopping until I run out of energy.
Soon. I’ll get rid of this awful power and we can get our asses back to Florida before the week is out. No one will chase us or boss us around or tell us how stupid we are for not knowing anything about Strega. Okay, the last part is a lie – no one has accused us of that. But all the rest is true.
Soon.
“Ten minutes,” a random man yells to everyone in the Market.
Damon shoves at our backs, ushering us down an alleyway and making us merge with hundreds of other people all headed in the same direction. “How many people are in Pensatore?” I ask him, not having realized just how large this clan and settlement are.
“About half a million. Pick up the pace.”
Enemy Of My Enemy (Price Of Power Book 1) Page 10
