by Maria Amor
“Just pretend like it’s for you, then,” Dylan suggested. “Along with all these meet-and-greet things.”
“I can’t though, because I have to act a certain way,” Julia said; she knew she was whining, and that there were probably a dozen girls in her class alone who would be glad to have the excuse to wear gorgeous dresses and have their hair done and make themselves up for something more important than going to a restaurant, or to the school dances.
But after the first dozen events she’d gone to, Julia had gotten thoroughly sick and tired of having to behave herself—at least within a certain guideline—and having to wear clothes that while gorgeous were not exactly comfortable, and having to meet people and talk to people she had no interest in whatsoever.
It wouldn’t be as bad, she thought, if she didn’t have to take Ruth’s potion daily just to keep her power surges manageable. She’d had to make an early exit to the last party she went to before Dylan’s birthday because even with the potion, she’d felt the crackling energy coursing through her and knew better than to let herself experience the surge publicly. She didn’t want a repeat of that; she’d gotten another potion from Ruth before leaving for Manhattan to celebrate Dylan’s birthday that was shorter-acting and more concentrated, for emergencies.
Once she was back at her grandmother’s house, it wouldn’t be as bad—at least when she wasn’t at events. When she was at Ruth’s house, the native magic and energies surrounding the property would insulate against the power surges at least a little bit. Julia knew, though, that as soon as she went back to Sandrine, which was a little more than a month away, that she’d be back in the midst of the school politics—and she would have to deal with the power surges, becoming more frequent and more powerful, with nothing more than Dylan’s support and the potion.
“This is going to get worse, isn’t it?” Julia turned around to face Dylan.
“Not unless you’re planning on buying some kind of origami necklace,” he said. Julia snorted.
“No—I meant the whole...transition thing.” Julia looked down at her hands; she could see the faint glow under her skin, the energy that she could feel in her body at all hours. It wasn’t enough to make her feel like she could cancel the event she was supposed to be attending in the next hour, but it was there nonetheless.
“You’re kind of in uncharted territory for me,” Dylan admitted. “I mean—you were there, to a degree, when I went through my transition, but the worst I ever did was flood a room.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Julia said dryly; it was true that she’d had one or two “incidents” as they were called, since beginning her final transition. Once, they hadn’t caught her power surge before it got bad, and she’d brought down a tree from the windstorm that accompanied her power surge, and another time the wind had been powerful enough to shatter several windows along the street of her parents’ apartment. That was the reason she couldn’t spend much time in the city over her summer; she was a genuine liability to the Guardian community, and the council knew it—especially after the trick she’d pulled off at her audience with them, exposing the former dean and his collaborators.
“You’ve only got a few more months of this left,” Dylan said. Julia smiled wryly.
“And then I have to deal with being in school, fully powered—and we don’t even know how powerful I’ll be—and…” Julia took a deep breath, reminding herself of her grandmother’s advice: letting herself get agitated increased the chances that she would experience a surge, and she would be better off managing her mood as much as possible.
“I know it’s frustrating as hell,” Dylan told her. “But just think: once you come into your full abilities, I don’t think anyone is going to want to mess with you.” Julia laughed.
“But everyone is going to want to be my friend,” she said wryly. “Okay—time to get into a more positive mindset.” Dylan smiled.
“You’re managing this really well, and you’re probably the coolest kid at Sandrine, if it makes you feel better,” he said. “If only I could be as cool as you.” Julia rolled her eyes.
“Only one of us is an ex-rock star,” she countered. “We’d better get downstairs; the car should be here soon.” She slipped her feet into the shoes she’d chosen to go with her dress and grabbed her purse. It was going to be a tedious evening—that she couldn’t avoid—but Julia was glad that she would have Dylan at her side for it, that she could rely on him at least to help her get out of the worst of the tedious conversations.
The ride out of the city helped restore some of Julia’s sense of proportion and humor; the simmering, tingling energy that coursed through her began to abate under the influence of the potion and Dylan’s steady flow of energy into her, and by the time they arrived at the Suffolk mansion, she was not just able, but willing, to greet the man who opened the car door with a bright, social smile as she stepped out. As always, Dylan fell in next to and just behind her as Julia strode up to the front door of the house where the event had already begun, not skulking but obviously giving her precedence.
It irritated Julia some that she was suddenly some kind of celebrity amongst her own kind; she’d known that Ruth was a major power player in Guardian politics from a young age, but until she had started to show definitive signs of her own strong alignment with air, Julia had been little more than an accessory. She had the tentative respect of the other kids at her school because of who her grandmother was, but no one considered her to be a powerhouse in her own right. As a younger kid, she might have enjoyed it more—it would have made it easier to deal with some of the bullies she’d had to deal with in fourth and fifth grade—but now that she was almost an adult, both by Guardian standards and the law, the little bit of fear she sometimes saw in faces when people recognized her made her uncomfortable.
Just as uncomfortable was the knowledge that a lot of the people who suddenly couldn’t wait to invite her into their homes were only interested in getting to know her because she was supposed to be the next up-and-coming power player; the murmurs that she would go on to become the ruler of the element of air had only increased after her audience with the council.
“Julia Bevel, and Dylan Kelby,” the man and the door announced as she and Dylan passed through the entrance into the Suffolk’s main room. She saw everyone look at her, and saw a few avid gleams of interest, but for a moment or two, nobody wanted to be the first to greet her, and Julia just continued forward, smiling, nodding to the few people in the room she’d already met. The moment passed, and the Guardians and supernatural beings in the room began to relax a bit as Julia found her host and hostess: Nadine and Seraphin Suffolk.
“Julia—we’re so glad you could make it,” Nadine said, coming forward to barely touch hands with her. Julia had gotten used to the way that the ranking members of Guardian society greeted each other; shaking hands wasn’t common, since more energy could be transferred that way, but a simple touch let two people come in contact with each other’s energy without risk. “I heard from Ruth that you’re in the worst part of the transition phase, and hoped my invitation wouldn’t put you out.”
“Not at all,” Julia lied, smiling brightly. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to understand why I’ve become such a coveted guest, but I’m happy to attend whenever I can.”
“I think you’re being overly humble,” Seraphin said, nodding his head slightly towards her; he was a fire-aligned Guardian, while Nadine—a friend of Ruth’s—was aligned with water, and Julia had never really been able to understand how the two of them managed to work out. “I don’t think anyone as quick as you would have trouble tracing the spectacular debut you made at the council a few months ago to your new prominence.”
“Honestly, it wasn’t much,” Julia said, pressing the man’s hands and then pulling hers back as gently as possible to let Dylan greet him. “More instinct than anything else.”
“That instinct—and the power behind it—is the reason so many are speculating so much
about your future,” Nadine said. “And of course, the fact that at the age of sixteen, you managed to figure out an entire conspiracy more or less on your own.”
“It really wasn’t very much on my own,” Julia insisted. “I had a great deal of help; not just from Dylan, but from Ruth, and the people I’ve met through my grandmother, and of course Mrs. Halpern and some of the staff at Sandrine.” She shook her head, feeling the weight of her curls against her neck. “All in all, the only part I played was to be an agitator.” Good god it’s going to be hours of this, Julia thought, trying to put her mind in the right “set” to deal with it without becoming, as her grandmother called it, “a petulant child.”
“Dylan’s part in the whole scheme was certainly impressive,” Nadine agreed. “Have you given any thought to the council’s invitation for you to come and hear the potential hires for the dean of the school?” Julia kept her smile plastered on and nodded.
“I understand why they want my input, but I wish they would choose someone a little less…” she glanced around the room, trying to think of the right word to convey what she wanted without sounding like a snob or too much like a kid. “A little less entrenched in the student politics,” she finished. “I mean—if someone I like turns out to be a dictator, I definitely don’t want the student body coming for my head!” She laughed, trying her best to sound charming.
“Of course, of course,” Seraphin said.
“And I doubt that the council would only take your word for it,” Dylan pointed out. “I mean, I’m pretty sure they know that you and I are both still kids.”
“As I understand it, they merely want Julia’s input on the final contestants—as it were,” Nadine told them. “Once they have it narrowed down to a few contenders for the job, they’ll want Julia’s input, and probably yours as well, Dylan—since you were also involved in exposing Dimitrios.”
Julia caught the brief flicker of ironic amusement on Dylan’s face. He’d gone from being the notorious black sheep of the Guardian world, rejecting their politics in favor of a life in the music industry, to being almost a coattail-rider for Julia’s fame; and as far as Julia could tell, Dylan preferred it that way. He didn’t enjoy actually being famous any more than she—in her limited capacity—did.
“I think we should probably let the kids get on and greet the others,” Seraphin reminded his wife. “Of course, we’ll be here all evening if you’d like to chat with us again.” Julia nodded, and turned away, using the brief moment that she wasn’t actively being watched to let the smile fall from her face and work her lips for a few moments to relieve the cramp that was starting in her cheeks.
Julia took a deep breath and felt Dylan’s presence at her back as she turned back towards the rest of the party, her smile once more in place. She would get through the event—she knew that she would—and she would gain something from it, even if it was just a few names that might come in handy at a later date. One of these days I’m going to get out of these stupid events for good, she promised herself. Julia glanced at Dylan. “What do you think the odds are that we can spook someone here without me getting into trouble?” Dylan snickered.
“You’d have to be really subtle about it,” he said.
“Okay: what are the odds that I could convince someone else to do something to spook people in a way that wouldn’t trace back to me?” Dylan raised an eyebrow.
“I thought Persuasion only came to air-aligned Guardians when they got their full abilities,” he said. Julia shrugged.
“Then I guess we’re in for a boring few hours,” she said.
“Worst case scenario, you can fake a surge and we’ll get you out of here,” Dylan said. Julia was tempted to agree to the plan; but at the same time, she’d heard Nadine’s comment—if she had too many obvious surges, that would only increase her reputation as being some intensely powerful super-Guardian.
“Only if it gets to the point where people are getting on my last nerve,” Julia told him.
“I’ll make sure to be ready for it then,” Dylan said drily. Julia rolled her eyes and then quickly recovered as one of Nadine and Seraphin’s guests approached her. You can get through this for at least an hour and a half, she told herself firmly.
Of course, once she left the Suffolks’ home, she would go straight to her grandmother’s, but at the moment, that seemed—briefly—like the lesser of two evils. At least at Ruth’s place she could be as much of a “petulant child” as she wanted without having to worry that someone was going to tattle on her to her grandmother. Julia smiled brightly at the approaching woman—she made a private bet with herself that the fire-aligned Guardian had a single son—and extended her hands to be introduced, thankful that at least she still had Dylan for support.
*
Dylan waited by the doors to one of the smaller chambers attached to the main council chamber, relieved that for once he didn’t have to wear a full suit and tie; Julia had tried to put off having anything to do with the process of selecting a new dean for the School of Sandrine, but finally her grandmother had pointed out that after making such a big entrance into Guardian politics before she’d even reached her majority, Julia had a responsibility not to look too cowardly, too shy.
“Have you noticed that both times we’ve had an audience with the council, they’ve made us wait outside?” Dylan looked up from his phone and shrugged.
“Either whatever they were doing before this ran over, or they just like making people wait,” he said. Julia rolled her eyes at his simplistic explanation and Dylan could tell that she was struggling with the desire to fidget. For once, the luminescent glow was all but gone from her skin—she’d taken what she’d called a “safety dose” of the stronger potion in the car on the way to the council’s chambers. It wouldn’t keep her from being able to use her abilities, but it would—they both hoped—make it easier for her to remain stable, to prevent any power surges from happening to her.
“If they keep us waiting much longer, I’m just going to leave,” Julia said irritably. Dylan understood; the potion worked well, but only for so long—and after becoming the talk of the Guardian community the previous school year, Julia was trying to avoid any additional attention that she could.
Even at her grandmother’s house, she spent more time reading, devouring one book after another in a handful of different languages, than almost anything else. She hates being kept in a cage. Fair enough; so do I. Dylan took a deep breath and extended his hand towards Julia. She took it, and he let some of his energy flow into her, keeping it light—peaceful, as serene as he could. He was getting better and better at that type of transfer, from having to do it so much.
“We’ll go in, listen to them, make some remarks, and let them parade the candidates in front of us, and then we can leave,” Dylan told her. “It’ll be fine.”
“And then we go back to Ruth’s place,” Julia said, her voice sad. “Until I have to go to another stupid party, or to tea at someone’s house, or…” she sighed.
“We’ll be back at school in a month and a half,” Dylan reminded her. “Once we’re there, things will be better.” Julia gave him a disbelieving look. “If nothing else, you’ll have PE to get out some of the excess energy, and you’ll be able to hang out with people.”
“But I have to deal with a big, stupid birthday that even a girl having her Quinceanera would think is over the top,” Julia countered.
“Stop being so tetchy,” Dylan told her sharply. “I get it; I do. But if you keep going down this road you’re going to get bitchy to the council and ruin what you’ve got going for you.”
“What I’ve got going for me is some kind of weird mascot deal,” Julia countered.
“What you’ve got going for you is a bargaining position,” Dylan corrected her. “They want your input. They want to get in good with someone who might eventually become the Regina Sylphaea while she’s still able to be influenced.” Julia snorted. “I know—you’re the original free spirit, no one influences yo
u.” Julia’s irritable expression broke up and Dylan felt a little surge of self-satisfaction as she snickered.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be good.”
“Thank you; that makes my job a lot easier,” Dylan told her. “If I get another lecture from Ruth about how I need to be better emotional support…”
“Ugh, it’s like everyone thinks I’m some toddler and at the same time that I’m forty,” Julia said, rolling her eyes. She took a deep breath. “Once my birthday is over it’ll be better.”
“You’ll be able to tell them all to go to hell if you want to,” Dylan said. Julia grinned, and Dylan could imagine the thoughts in her mind: telling the council she wanted no part of Guardian politics, and that she was going to take her overpowered self and live the life she wanted.
They wouldn’t necessarily let her do that, but Dylan didn’t see any need to interrupt her daydreams. He’d been allowed—tentatively—to go his own way, but he didn’t show as much potential as Julia already did. Once she reached her full abilities as a Guardian, he was certain the council would never, in a million years, let her just do what she wanted; even if what she wanted was to live a normal life away from the supernatural world.
A squat, ugly gnome appeared from the corridor next to the council room, and Dylan rose to his feet. “The council is ready to see you now,” the gnome said, looking almost distrustfully at Julia. Dylan suppressed a smile with difficulty. Of course, a gnome—earth-aligned as he was—wouldn’t entirely trust Julia; she represented the opposite element, and her allegiance would be to creatures that gnomes hated.
The gnome opened the door to the side-chamber, and Dylan took up his normal position at Julia’s side, glancing at her to make sure that she would be able to maintain her composure, at least for a while, before they both stepped into the room. Unlike the huge council chamber, down the hallway from where they were, the side-room, occupied by only those members of the Guardian Council who were concerned with the School of Sandrine, was small and almost cozy. The same kinds of warding materials were implanted in the walls, to contain any excess elemental energies, but there were maybe a dozen—fifteen at most—members of the council in the room, dressed to represent their respective elemental alignments. Julia had chosen a simple dress, comfortable enough compared to her party and event finery, in sky blue; Dylan had opted for a pair of blue-green pants and a dress shirt.
