Whisper

by Lynette Noni

  I’m caught off guard. “Sorry?”

  “A cat,” he repeats. “Close your eyes and imagine a cat.”

  I just look at him. “As in, meow?”

  His return look is scathing. “What other kinds of cats are there?”

  I clench my jaw, close my eyes and do as directed.

  “Imagine a gray-and-white-striped tabby. Four legs, fluffy tail, soft coat. Can you see it?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I murmur, seeing it as he described.

  “Good. Now I want you to Speak it into being. You already know how. Just keep the picture in your mind and call it forth. It will be harder with the Karoel dampening your ability; you’ll feel like you’re trying to talk around a mouthful of honey. But you just have to push through the pressure and concentrate hard on what you want.”

  He makes it sound so simple, just like when we were up on Market Street. And really, it is unbelievably simple. Enough that I don’t try to think about the impossibilities behind my ability, and instead, I just say the word, “Cat.”

  I understand straight away what Ward meant about the pressure in my mouth; it’s an almost sticky, crowded feeling, like my gums are stuffed with cotton wool. It’s as if something pushes back against the word itself, stopping it from forming.

  And indeed, nothing happens.

  As I gaze around in confusion, Ward says, “You have to force the word past the effects of the Karoel. Think of it like obedience training — you have to take command of the words you want to Speak, making them surrender to your will.”

  “I haven’t had to do that before,” I tell him, warily eyeing the glossy black walls. “Normally, I just open my mouth and whatever comes out is already powerful.” Too powerful.

  “And that’s why we’re in here,” he replies, waving at the Karoel. “The mineral is a training tool that will help you learn how to actively control your words — as opposed to letting them control you.”

  Mentally comparing the task to adding weights to an already arduous workout, I nod.

  Closing my eyes again, I think of everything Ward has told me. I focus on the cat he described until it is pictured perfectly in my mind, and when I’m convinced I’m ready, I purposefully push power into my word as I Speak, “Cat.”

  My eyes open just in time to watch the light fly out of me and a furry creature materialize on the floor in front of where I stand. I look down at the tabby and he looks up at me, each of us as shocked as the other, neither of us knowing what to do now. I jump a little when he opens his mouth and a soft, questioning meow comes out.

  “Good,” Ward says.

  I jump again, turning back to him with what must be wide, incredulous eyes. Despite knowing what I can do, this is … this is … something else. Something beyond reason.

  “Now, do it again. A long-haired white one this time.”

  I push past my shock and do as he says, forcing the word through the restrictions of the Karoel, and a Persian-like, squashed-nose cat joins the tabby.

  At Ward’s directive, I create three more cats, until there are five pairs of feline eyes blinking in curiosity and confusion.

  “Is there a point to this?” I ask, the words coming easily since I’m not attempting to power them. Impatience has begun to replace my shock, and I’m ready to move on from this strange cat-creating exercise. Or at least find out why Ward has me doing it to begin with.

  My attention is pulled downward when an adorable black-and-white kitten rubs against my leg, a creature I took a few liberties with, making him younger than the rest just to test myself. It was a mistake, though, since I think I’m already half in love with the little guy. I draw him up into my arms, and he begins to purr contentedly, batting his paw at my hand for attention.

  “Oh, you are cute, aren’t you?” I coo at him, forgetting, somehow, that I’ve just asked Ward a question. When I look up at him, there’s an unexpectedly soft expression on his face, but he masks it immediately when he catches me watching him.

  “Of course there’s a point,” he states, annoyed. “Do it again.”

  Biting my lip to keep from snapping back at him, I keep the purring kitten in my arms and Speak another cat into the room. Then another. And another.

  “At this rate, I’m going to become known as the crazy cat lady,” I mumble, absentmindedly stroking the kitten. I’m just about to create the ninth cat, when Ward stops me.

  “Enough cats. Try a dog this time.”

  “Any preferences?” I drawl. This is getting ridiculous.

  “German shepherd.”

  I picture the majestic dog in my mind, not even having to close my eyes anymore, and Speak it into being. “Dog.”

  “Good. Now a golden retriever.”

  I do as he says, and then when he asks for a border collie, I call one of those forth, as well. I’m beginning to get a little nervous about the dogs and cats in the same room, but so far they all seem too busy checking out their new environment to think about attacking one another.

  “Now try a pony, one of those miniature ones so it doesn’t take up too much space in here.”

  I regard him with wide eyes. “You want me to create a horse?”

  “A pony,” he corrects. Seeing my expression, he adds, “It’s your imagination, remember? You can make it as big or as small as you want.”

  I bite my lip and concentrate on the image in my mind, thinking of a Shetland pony just a little larger than the German shepherd. When I say, “Pony,” it appears, just like all the other animals.

  After that, Ward has me create three baby goats, half a dozen chickens and a llama.

  “It’s like a petting zoo in here,” I say over all the animal sounds. “I hope you’re the one on clean-up duty.”

  His mouth curls upward ever so slightly. “Clean-up duty?”

  I gesture around the room. “It’s bound to happen sooner or later.”

  Before he can respond, the door opens, and Enzo and Cami walk into the room. They both stop dead and look around with astonishment.

  “Please tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing,” Cami says to Enzo, rubbing her eyes as if that will change the sight in front of her.

  In her defense, in the hour she’s been gone the room has filled up with farm animals. There’s no way she could have anticipated that.

  “I wish I wasn’t, but I am,” Enzo replies, warily eyeing the llama ambling over to them.

  The fluffy white creature stops right in front of Enzo and nips at the brown paper bag he holds in his hands.

  “Get this — this thing away from me,” he says, using his free hand to push the llama’s head away. But the animal is intent on its goal, still trying to nip at the bag.

  Cami lets out a peal of giggles, and I feel like joining her, especially seeing the look on Enzo’s face as he tries to shoo the llama away. But one glance at Ward’s crossed arms and cold expression stifles my bubbling humor.

  “Here, JD, take it,” Enzo cries almost desperately, tossing the bag to me.

  I catch it one-handed, careful not to drop the kitten now snoozing in the crook of my other arm. If Enzo’s goal was to redirect the llama’s attention to me, he failed, since the creature appears enamored with him, butting at his chest and rubbing its head along his arm.

  When Enzo’s attempts to shove the beast away only cause it to dig in its hooves and press closer to him, I’m unable to suppress my laughter any longer. Cami is now doubled over, with tears streaming down her face.

  Enzo lets out a string of profanities. “Would someone —” he grunts “— get this —” he staggers back a step “— beast —” he pushes against it, but it doesn’t move an inch “— off me!”

  Now I’m the one with tears rolling down my cheeks.

  “Jane.”

  Ward’s sharp voice has the same effect as pouring water on a fire, and my laughter breaks off abruptly as I turn to him.

  He gestures to the llama and says, “Do something about that.”

  It’s my turn to
raise an eyebrow at him. “Like what?”

  “Get rid of it.” He waves a hand around the room. “Get rid of them all.”

  Easy enough for him to say. I’m a Creator — not a Vanisher. I don’t even know if there is such a thing. But then I remember that “Creator” doesn’t just mean someone who creates something; it means someone who can use their imagination to make anything happen. What did Enzo say just yesterday? They can do whatever they want with any words they want.

  Time to put that to the test. But … there is just one problem.

  “How do I get rid of the animals without getting rid of … everything else in here?” I ask Ward, hoping he understands what I’m not saying. When he just looks at me blankly, I move closer and explain, “You, Enzo, Cami. How do I keep you from vanishing with the rest?”

  Understanding lights his eyes. “Just don’t let your mind go there.”

  I make a derisive sound, but I regret it when it stings my raw vocal cords. “I’m new to this, Ward. I’ve been at it for an hour, and all I’ve done is call some of Farmer Joe’s friends into existence. Getting rid of them all at once without sending anyone else along for the ride —”

  Ward cuts me off. “You can do this,” he says. “And even if you can’t, I won’t let anything bad happen.”

  Right. He can protect my words. But I’m still not sure how he does that, exactly.

  “Close your eyes, Jane.”

  I send him one last wary glance but do as he says.

  “Imagine the animals disappearing one after another, vanishing like smoke. The chickens, the pony, the goats, the dogs, the cats, the llama.”

  “Sure, leave the llama till last!” Enzo cries out, but Ward shushes him into silence.

  “Can you see that? All of them gone from the room?”

  I can, but I’m also struggling to hold on to the image.

  “Once you have it, Speak it out.”

  I take a deep breath and cross my fingers, hoping Ward knows what he’s doing. “Go away.”

  Before I even open my eyes, I know it worked, because the shuffling animal noises have stopped. There are no more meows, woofs, chirps or bleats. No restless hooves or clawed feet scratching along the floor. The room is silent. Filled with trepidation, I open one eye and then the other, and finally release the breath I’d been holding. Ward, Cami and Enzo are all right where I left them.

  “Did I do that or did you?” I ask Ward, wondering if he had to use his protective ability.

  “Other than you trying to send me, specifically, away with the animals, that was all you,” he answers with a hint of pride, not at all annoyed that I may have included him in my vanishing imagination. “But it looks like you missed one.”

  I cuddle the still-snoozing kitten closer to my chest and feign contrition. “Oops?”

  Ward shakes his head, but somehow I get the feeling he’s amused. As much as he will allow himself to be.

  “If I told you to make him disappear,” he says, “you’d just Speak him back later, wouldn’t you?”

  “I think I’ll call him Schrödinger,” I tell him by way of an answer. “‘Dinger,’ for short.”

  For the first time since he turned into cold Ward, his dimple comes out, and he releases a burst of laughter. “Schrödinger? How fitting.”

  Given the kitten’s questionable state of existence, I couldn’t agree more.

  The humor still lights Ward’s features as he turns to Cami and Enzo, but his smile quickly disappears, and he bites out a quiet curse.

  I’m not sure what the problem is, until I notice the way they’re staring at me.

  I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but then it hits me and I realize I’m what’s wrong. They weren’t supposed to learn what I can do, about the power I wield. They weren’t supposed to know that I’m a Creator. Not yet, at least. But maybe — maybe we can still salvage this. Maybe there’s some other kind of Speaker who can call animals forth and make them disappear again.

  I look hopefully at Ward, expecting him to have some kind of cover ready. But all he does is open his mouth and say, “Best not to tell the others about this. Not until she has enough control to not freak them out too much. Agreed?”

  Enzo just continues to look at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “She’s a Creator?”

  “She is,” Ward confirms. He doesn’t seem worried about Cami and Enzo knowing the truth, so I can only assume his earlier rules were never meant to apply to them.

  “All this time?” Enzo asks.

  “All this time.”

  Enzo shakes his head. “That’s not possible. We would have known.”

  “How would we have known?” Cami cuts in. She doesn’t seem as incredulous as Enzo. Compared to the reactions from the others last night, now that she’s shaken off her shock, she appears not to be concerned at all. “She didn’t say a word to anyone for over two and a half years. She gave no indication of any kind of Speaking ability, let alone the rarest one.”

  “This is crazy,” Enzo states. “I don’t believe it.”

  I feel a sting of hurt, like his adamant words are some kind of personal rejection. Despite him keeping his distance as my evaluator, I still grew to care about him enough to consider him a friend.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, unable to meet his eyes. “I can’t help what I am. But I’ll do whatever it takes to learn how to control it. I promise I won’t become someone you have a reason to be afraid of.”

  “Jane, you don’t have to —”

  “You’re seriously a Creator?” Enzo interrupts Cami.

  Something in his tone causes me to glance back up at him. He baffles me completely when a wide grin stretches across his face.

  “This is wicked!” he exclaims. “Seriously — I don’t believe it.”

  He said that before, but I now realize his reaction isn’t negative.

  “This is the best news ever,” he declares. “It’s too good to be true.” He shakes his head again, laughing to himself. “Little JD — a Creator! I never would’ve picked that!”

  He takes five quick strides across the room and gathers my startled self into his arms, lifting me clean off the ground as he draws me up in a massive bear hug. My eyes nearly pop out of my head with surprise, and I let out a gasp of pain when tiny kitten claws dig into my arm, telling me Schrödinger isn’t a fan of being squished.

  When Enzo releases me to the ground, still beaming, I grin back. Deciding to give an impromptu demonstration — and trusting that after my morning of practice I can pull it off — I look down at the kitten again. I make sure to imagine the picture of what I want clearly in my mind, then I send a quick warning glance to Ward — just in case he needs to step in — and I say, “Schrödinger, to my bed.”

  Immediately the kitten disappears from my arms, hopefully to rematerialize in my room as I imagined. I’ll find out later if it worked, but at least for now, I no longer have him scratching my flesh off.

  Seeing the damage, Cami dances over and places her hand on my forearm. With a quietly Spoken word — “Heal” — and a touch of light, my skin mends in an instant.

  “Thanks, Cam,” I say gratefully. I’m amazed to discover that my throat doesn’t feel as strained now, either.

  “That’s one of the funny things about Creators,” she says, smiling softly at me. “You can do pretty much anything, except heal yourself. No one knows why that’s the case. It’s the same for me, though — I can heal anyone except me.”

  “Too much power,” I suggest. “If we could heal ourselves, then we could live forever.”

  She nods seriously. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

  “Was there a reason you two came by?” Ward interrupts.

  “We brought some cookies for JD,” Enzo says, pointing to the brown bag. “She didn’t get breakfast, and while they’re not exactly nutritional, she still needs to eat.”

  Mmm. Cookies. My stomach grumbles with anticipation, so I open the bag. Inside I find a pile of gooey chocolate ch
ip cookies.

  “Fresh out of the oven, direct from Aunt Esther and straight to you,” Cami says. She snakes her hand into the bag and pulls a cookie out for herself, then takes a bite. “And lucky for me, you’re good at sharing.”

  I roll my eyes at her but pass the bag around to Enzo and, reluctantly, Ward. After they each take one, there are still plenty left.

  “Better get your strength up, Chip, since we still have a lot to do today.”

  I freeze in the act of raising the cookie to my mouth, but Ward doesn’t seem to notice — nor does he seem to realize that he just slipped up and called me “Chip.”

  Taking a deep breath, I nibble on my cookie, deciding it’s best to act as if the verbal slip never happened.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It’s been two days since I discovered what I am and began working with Ward to control my Speaking ability, but it’s as if he’s communicating in a foreign language.

  I can comprehend what he’s trying to have me do. Everything he’s said about intent makes sense — it’s more the practical side of things where I … lose my way.

  After the success with the farmyard animals, my hopes had risen, and I’d wondered if perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to learn control. As if sensing my growing confidence, Ward has since found a way to smash me back down to reality, and today he is particularly brutal.

  “You need to do better than this, Jane,” he growls when I ask for a break.

  Leaning over with my hands braced on my knees, I look up at him through my hair, trying to catch my breath.

  “I’m trying,” I say. I have no idea why the effort of just forming words is so hard on my body. Part of it is from pushing through the added pressure of the Karoel, but still. All I’m doing is talking.

  “Not hard enough,” he replies.

  I manage to raise myself into a standing position and glare at him. “It would help if you offered more instruction than ‘Just do it, Jane.’”

  He returns my glare and snaps, “Just do it, Jane.”

  I look around the room for evidence of my multiple failed attempts. The problem is, I have summoned nothing yet. Other than Ward and me, there’s nothing else in the black-walled room. And that’s because Ward has tasked me with summoning objects from my past. Items of significance, items of nostalgia.