by Maria Amor
“Oh great,” Julia said, smiling wryly.
“Would you rather I not tell you?” Dylan raised an eyebrow.
“No. I’m glad you told me,” Julia said. “It’s just going to be tricky getting through the rest of the party knowing that.” Dylan smirked.
“Well, at least you know your charms will be especially useful against the earth-aligned Guardians,” he pointed out. Julia laughed.
“There is that,” she agreed. She took a breath. “Let’s go back in before anyone thinks anything weird is happening.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julia stepped into her fourth period class, relieved that it was one that she would be sharing with Dylan. You just have to get through this week, and this weekend, she reminded herself. The power surges had been getting worse, seemingly with every passing day. She had visited the dean to try and convince Guthrie to make an exception—to let Dylan stay in the air-aligned dorms at least for the few weeks that her transition was at its peak—but the older woman hadn’t been willing to even consider the idea. “I definitely can’t move either of you at this point in the school year,” Guthrie had said. “Even if it would be a good idea—which I don’t think it will.”
The girls on the air-aligned seniors floor with her had tried to help, tried to pull some of the energy flowing so dangerously through Julia’s body into their own fields, but it had just prolonged the spasms without really effectively making them any easier to bear. The professors in her classes had helped, but she couldn’t rely on any of them in the night.
How many people do you think have ever dreaded their seventeenth birthday? Julia sat down at her usual desk and looked around the room. Fourth period—for her and Dylan both—was Government and Economics, with the material split up: the first semester was Government, and the spring would be Economics.
Julia could feel the energy crackling and tingling through her body, in spite of the potions she had taken that morning. The concoctions Ruth had given her the previous weekend should have helped suppress the energy surges for at least eight hours—but halfway through the school day, not even at lunch, and Julia could feel the air-aligned energy, restless, dancing along her bones.
Dylan came in from his previous class—Julia couldn’t remember what it was, but it had to be water-aligned—and Julia held her hand out as unobtrusively as possible, silently asking for his support. Hopefully no one says anything. Or notices. There had been murmurings in the council that the severity of her spasms was indicative that she was going to become an unstable Guardian—and Julia knew just how suspicious the council was of that phenomenon.
If she could just get through the transition, and gain control of her abilities, then she hoped she could convince the council to let her go her own way, at least for a while. Dylan spotted her outstretched hand, and as he sat down at his own desk next to hers, his fingers closed around hers, and Julia felt the calming, soothing flow of his energy into her body; it was cold, almost icy, but Julia welcomed it, willing it to smother the active, hot, crackling air-aligned power that moved through her. Dylan’s energy helped, but Julia could still feel the power, feel it building up inside her body.
“I think you need to get a pass to go to the infirmary,” Dylan murmured. The bell rang, and the professor came into the classroom, closing the door behind her.
“Class, put away your books—I’ve decided today we will have a pop quiz, to see how well you’re all retaining the articles of the Constitution,” Professor McKey said. “Now don’t groan; this isn’t for credit, it’s just to see where you all stand.”
Julia looked at Dylan doubtfully before taking her hand out of his and raising it; she knew that the odds of being able to leave the class were slim, but as soon as Dylan’s soothing, suppressing energy wasn’t washing through her anymore, she could feel her own air-aligned energy rebounding, intensifying.
“Ms. Beval?” Julia felt half the class turn to look at her.
“I need a pass,” Julia said. She knew that she probably should tell the professor why she needed it—but she didn’t want to disclose to everyone in the room what was happening. As the energy began to crest, she could hear the wind outside, beginning to rise, shaking the windows.
“I’ll have to ask you to wait until you turn in your quiz,” Professor McKey said. “Can you do that?” Julia pressed her lips together, glancing at the windows. It was starting to get turbulent outside, and she felt lightheaded.
“Maybe,” Julia said weakly.
“Try your best, and if you can’t finish, then I’ll be happy to give you a pass,” Professor McKey said. Julia took a slow, deep breath. She wouldn’t be able to hold Dylan’s hand through the quiz—she knew that—but she also didn’t know how she would be able to get through it. She swallowed against the tight, dry feeling in her throat and took her pen out of her backpack.
Ten minutes. Ten minutes and you can get a pass, go to the infirmary. Julia gripped her pen tightly in her hand as she felt the energy increasing, as she heard the trees outside rattle against the windows. Everyone else in the room seemed to be aware of what was happening except for Professor McKey; that woman seemed to be so focused on handing out the quiz that nothing short of an earthquake would deter her.
Julia looked down at her quiz and tried to focus on the questions. Which amendment establishes the direct election of US Senators by popular vote? Julia felt her hands shaking; the energy surge happening to her was the worst one yet—it was as if the air-aligned energy was determined somehow to split her into pieces, to tear her apart. She closed her eyes and tried to do something to push the energy out of her, to resist it; but that only seemed to invite more energy to course through her body, extending the shaking to her arms instead of just her hands.
She struggled for what felt like an hour, grappling with the power surging and coursing through her body, seemingly lighting up every single cell of her. Julia could see the glow under her skin intensifying, and her teeth began to chatter. This...this isn’t good. This is bad. Really bad. The pen somehow fell out of her hand, and Julia could feel the rest of her body shaking, trembling from the force of elemental energy crackling through her. She tried to open her mouth, to raise her hand to call the professor’s attention to her plight, but a massive spasm hit her at that moment, reducing her attempt to say the teacher’s name into an inarticulate cry.
Julia wasn’t sure that she was falling until she actually hit the ground, shaking all over, legs kicking out to strike against the desk, arms flopping on the floor. She yelped, but she couldn’t help—couldn’t stop—the energy surging through her body, lighting up her brain. Something was happening around her, but Julia was too consumed with the spasms wracking her body, seemingly intent on shattering her. This has to be what it feels like to be electrocuted. Julia cried out again as she felt someone touch her, trying to warn whoever it was.
Cool, calm energy flowed over her like a shower, but it didn’t do anything to stop the onslaught of power that had brought Julia to the floor. She heard someone talking—multiple people—but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Julia finally recognized the energy flowing into her from outside as belonging to Dylan; but it still didn’t do anything to slow down—much less stop—the spasms shocking her system, rocking her until she wasn’t sure she wasn’t falling apart.
More hands touched her, and then Julia felt her body being lifted off of the ground. “We need to get her to the infirmary,” someone said, cutting through the haze and confusion of her mind. Julia felt herself being carried, and tried to hold herself as still as possible in spite of the spasms wracking her body; somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that the thrashing and flailing of this latest spasm made it more difficult to carry her—and that she didn’t want to fall to the floor. She felt movement, but she couldn’t keep her eyes focused enough to know where she was going.
Julia heard more talking, and somehow, she was being carefully let down. She felt something soft underneath her body and as the spasms
reached a new level of pain and intensity, Julia realized absently that she was in a bed. “She has a fever—she’s burning up.”
“This isn’t the normal manifestation.”
“When has anything about her transition been normal?”
“Let Dylan give her some more of his energy—maybe call on an earth-aligned professor to ground her.”
Julia groaned as hands pressed to her skin, too cold to be tolerable. She shuddered and shook and trembled, trying to somehow gain control of the energy that coursed through her. “Julia, let it pass through. Don’t fight it.” She wasn’t sure who it was speaking, but she wanted to tell the person that she didn’t know how to let it pass through—it didn’t seem possible. She barely heard the wind howling all around her, barely heard the crashing, cracking, tinkling sound of glass breaking—shattering—and hitting the floor as the windows gave way, wherever she was. She heard flapping, like fabric, tearing, all meaningless noise.
“Someone pin her feet down.”
“Get her arms, too.”
“Get Nurse Kerry in here with a potion!”
Julia had no way to make sense of what was going on around her; she was consumed by the sensations that were too extreme for her to be able to accept, or to focus through. Had her grandmother gone through something like this? Julia wasn’t sure if she was somehow trapped in a wind tunnel, or if she was just imagining it. The bed somehow fell away from her and Julia thought with a shock that she was in the air itself somehow, hovering—not quite flying, but suspended over the ground without any means of support. “Grab her!”
“Someone call Ruth!”
Someone wrestled her back down onto the bed and Julia tried to open her eyes enough, tried to focus her gaze enough to take in who was around her. Dylan’s hands pressed to her shoulders and energy flooded through her; for a moment, it almost seemed to suppress the raging, howling wind blowing through her body. But the next moment, she felt her own energy overpowering the flow of water-aligned power that Dylan sent through her.
“It’s not working.”
“Here—see if you can get this into her.” Something pressed against her mouth and Julia tried to open her lips, tried to swallow as sharp-tasting, sweet-bitter fluid poured along her tongue. She coughed and choked but managed to get most of it down, and the spasms eased a fraction of a degree in intensity.
All at once the surge began to ease, and Julia slumped against the bed, trembling and gasping and shivering in the aftermath. “The worst part seems to be over,” someone was saying, but she was too exhausted to care who it was. She closed her eyes and curled up on the bed, trying to hold herself together. Every part of her ached, every muscle in her body seemed to have contorted itself, turned itself inside out, and then been replaced. “We’re calling Ruth, Julia,” someone told her.
Julia murmured a wordless assent; she had had her differences with the elderly Guardian, but in that moment, she was the only person that Julia could think of who might be able to understand, to help her. It felt like the time that she’d had strep throat, and didn’t say anything to anyone about how sick she was feeling during the week because she had planned to go with a friend to Coney Island that weekend; by the time anyone had discovered what was wrong, she’d had a 104-degree fever, and her throat was swollen almost shut. She’d ached all over—even her hair had seemed to ache—and she hadn’t been able to even imagine moving from her bed.
Save for the fact that her throat wasn’t swollen shut, Julia felt the same way as the spasm began to ease. She opened her eyes and saw that Dylan sat next to the bed she’d been brought to. “What happened?” Her voice was a strange, rasping sound, and she didn’t know why.
“You blew out the windows,” Dylan said. “They’re worried you’ll have another spasm soon. I told them you’d taken Ruth’s potion this morning.”
“Oh, god I hope not,” Julia said, nuzzling against the pillow. “I hope this is the last one I ever have.”
“I don’t think that’s really an option,” Dylan told her gently. Julia snorted.
“They could put me under from now until my birthday,” she countered.
“I don’t think they could,” Dylan said. His fingertips brushed against her forehead. “But Ruth should be able to come up with something, right?”
“Wouldn’t be much of an elemental ruler if she couldn’t,” Julia said. “I think I’m going to try and go to sleep.”
“Probably a good idea,” Dylan told her. “I’ll stay with you, keep pushing my energy.”
“Thank you,” Julia said. She closed her eyes and reached blindly for the blanket on the bed, pulling it up and tucking it around her with trembling hands. She wished that she could just sleep through the next week and wake up in time to finally have her full abilities. She wished that she could never have to worry about the energy surges ever again, and that she could somehow have perfect control over her abilities and power.
Dylan hummed softly, and Julia half-smiled as exhaustion claimed her by inches, making it impossible to move as her body became more and more remote. She thought she recognized the tune, but it was too difficult for her to stay awake long enough to listen to confirm what it was. Dylan is a good guy. I could do a lot worse than him, even if we’re not ever going to go down that road. She sighed as sleep washed through her mind, obliterating all ability to think anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dylan woke up to the sound of movement on the corridor leading to the infirmary; it had been hours since they’d brought Julia to the nurse, after her spasm in Government class, and he’d spent almost the entire time pouring energy into her. He looked up from the bed where Julia lay, and saw Ruth as she came into the room, followed by an older man; the man had a faint yellow glow to his skin, and his skin was faintly wrinkled, but his hair was dark and looked healthy. He was almost so slim as to be skinny, dressed in a sky blue shirt and blue jeans.
“This is your granddaughter?” Dylan let go of Julia’s hand as the man spoke, looking from him to Ruth.
“This is Julia, yes,” Ruth said. “And Dylan—Dylan has been taking care of her.”
“The energy she’s got coursing through her is intense,” the man said. “I can see where Dylan has been infusing her with water-aligned power—not a bad stopgap but maybe we can do something better for her.”
“Who is he?” Dylan looked at Ruth.
“Ewan Crofts,” Ruth said. “Ewan is the current Rex Sylphae.”
“Should he know that?” Dylan was shocked to see Ruth Arlen shrug.
“He knows what I am—and it will save time if he knows about your purpose in being here, and why he should trust you.”
“What is he going to do?” Dylan gestured to Julia, who had only briefly awakened a few times since they’d left the classroom, and then to whimper before she fell back asleep.
“She’s going through powerful energy surges,” Ewan said. “I can possibly help—as can Ruth. Ways that a young Guardian like you wouldn’t be able to do, and the nurse here can’t manage.” Ewan sat down on the other side of the bed, and Dylan tried not to bristle at his manner. This was the ruler of the element of air; if anyone could help Julia, it was likely to be him. Why didn’t Ruth pull him in sooner, then? Dylan looked at the older woman. Ruth looked genuinely worried—which made Dylan even more worried about Julia’s state.
“Dylan, it would probably help Julia if you stepped back from the bed,” Ruth told him. Dylan would have argued, but he knew better; he might be kicked out of the room altogether if he didn’t do as he was told. He rose from his chair and stepped away from the bed, and Ruth took up the position he’d vacated.
He watched as the two elder Guardians began to work, murmuring in their respective element-aligned languages. Julia was obviously badly off—even with Dylan’s energy, even with the potion, she glowed and shimmered on the bed, and shivered every so often. She had gone from being burning hot to being ice cold more than once while he’d been with her.
&nbs
p; I should just be glad that someone who knows what they’re doing is here. I should be glad that someone has taken over, that there’s something being done. Dylan found another chair nearby and sat down in it, watching intently as the two elder Guardians did their work.
He watched as the blue-green glow flowed around Ruth, as the sun-yellow energy lit up Ewan. The two elemental rulers murmured a deeper incantation, something that Dylan couldn’t even think of himself ever knowing how to do, and moved their hands above Julia’s body. Dylan didn’t know what they were doing, or how they were accomplishing anything, but the vivid yellow glow of Julia’s energy began to dim—not in a bad way, but in some way that seemed like a relief.
After a while, Dylan couldn’t follow the situation anymore, and he was exhausted from so much loaning of his energy to Julia for so long. When one of the volunteers brought a plate of food for him, Dylan woofed it down quickly, paying attention and not paying attention to the two elders in the room as they continued to work on Julia. He set the plate aside, and Ruth glanced in his direction, her green eyes glowing with the light of her energy. “You should go back to your dorm,” Ruth said. “This is probably going to be an all-night thing.”
Dylan wanted to resist, but he knew better; he stood unsteadily from the seat he’d taken, and left the infirmary, headed back for the water-aligned senior boys’ dorms. He would get there just before lockdown, and he hoped he could wake up early enough to check on Julia before he had to get breakfast and go to class. Is she even going to be in class tomorrow? That much Dylan had no way to know.
He’d heard of what the adults tended to call “bad transitions,” and Dylan knew that Julia’s parents and her grandmother alike had worried that, with the early signs of high power that Julia had shown, her transition would be one of those. He had worried as she’d become more and more powerful through the last year of her life prior to gaining her full abilities that something would go wrong—her spasms had become more and more intense, and less and less manageable; but he hadn’t imagined something like what had happened in Government class. His own transition hadn’t caused anything like what Julia was going through.
