Such A Secret Place (Stolen Tears Book 1)

by Cortney Pearson

  “Let’s go.” His eyes are hard-focused, as if they’re trying to send me a message.

  “Hey,” says Grisly, waving a finger at Talon. “I saw you there. In Valadir.” He turns to the other boys who have lowered their daggers. “He was there—he’s one of them!”

  Commotion breaks out, and in an instant they form a circle around Talon and me. Daggers are no longer pointed down, but directed at us like slanted gray eyes.

  “He’s got an aud,” another boy says. “Who’s to say he hasn’t ratted us out?”

  Talon lifts his hands above his head as if to show he hasn’t touched his aud. He peers through the crook of his arm at me.

  “Don't worry,” I say, pointing to Talon’s belt. “It’s been in his pocket this whole time.”

  “Tyrus knows we escaped by now anyway,” says a deep voice. “What’s the big deal?”

  Grisly stiffens and pulls a butterfly knife like the one I saw Ice-Cream-Head Girl with in Black Vault. It takes him a few tries to whip it around. “I’m not going back. I won’t!”

  Talon places his feet apart and lifts his fists, preparing to defend himself. I cringe. He held three soldiers off at once back at my house, but there are at least twelve people surrounding us now and only two of us. We’re goners.

  “What is it about you that makes everyone want to fight?” I grumble, backing into him.

  Talon glances at me, but disregards my question.

  I’m alert, my senses heightened by the last two hours or so I spent trying to find my magic. Whether they want to fight him or not, I’m on Talon’s side. I won’t just stand by and watch.

  And with that thought, I feel it.

  It trickles up, cold at first, filling my cells. It surfaces, coursing through my veins, taking the place of my blood. I gasp, but no one notices. The boys are too busy circling us, and Talon shifts, trying to meet each of them head-on.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Talon says. His voice is one-hundred percent controlled.

  “I’m pretty sure we do,” one of them answers, followed by another saying, “You won’t make me go back.”

  The cold stream inside me piddles away, sinking back to wherever it’s been hiding my entire life. No, come back! I focus harder and the stream resurfaces, warming my skin. Exhilarating, it permeates each of my pores and pumps in my chest. I’ve never felt so strong before.

  Why haven’t I felt this, this consuming energy? This magic is alive in me.

  Riveted by the sensation, I step from Talon’s side, but the movement is the trigger they’ve been waiting for.

  They close in. Talon’s arm moves in that fluid, tactile motion, but I can tell he’s holding himself back. The ferocity that was in his face back at my house is missing now.

  It’s clear the others don’t have the training Talon does. Or the training the Arcs have, for that matter. Grisly thrusts his knife at me, and I whirl and raise a hand, instinctively blocking the blow.

  The minute our skin impacts, silver discharges out from me like grounded lightning, sizzling through my veins and up to my hair. It propels the entire group a few feet back in unison, leaving Talon and me panting in its center.

  Strength leaves my knees in an instant, and I topple to the dirt, trembling. My magic seeps back to wherever it’s been hiding, cooling my skin as a result. Several of the boys flinch. One hides behind the others, and they all watch us with wary uncertainty.

  Talon glances at me as well. I inhale, waiting for him to speak, to scold or reprimand me. But slowly, gradually, his look of shock transfers into a dazzling, approving smile.

  It’s the first genuine smile I’ve ever seen him wear, and I'm certain that if I wasn't already down, it would succeed at knocking me to the ground.

  For a moment we’re locked in that glance. I can’t take my eyes from him. Likewise, his green eyes glisten with approval and something else I can’t quite place. Admiration, perhaps?

  He kneels at my side, his lips still curving upward. “You okay?” he asks.

  The rest of them struggle to their feet and stare down at me as if I’m a creature concealed in human skin.

  "What happened?" I ask. I’ve never seen anyone lose control and strike multiple people at once like that. Most are usually like Kirk, the kid from my Procedures class, when he knocked himself out trying extract his magic for the first few times.

  Talon continues smirking while the men glare and brandish their weapons again, ready to counterattack. My bones tingle as the memory resurfaces. And then it sinks in.

  It was me. The silver lightning that shot them all away came from me.

  The men exchange glances the way they did when I first joined them. But this time their worry is blended with confusion. Talon props me up to help me sit. Tiny tremors course along my arms, shaking the muscles so slightly I barely perceive it.

  “Who are you guys?” the smallest boy asks. Short and scrawny, his collarbones jut through the lines of his baggy shirt.

  “Sorry about that,” I say as another one of them nurses the blood trailing down his elbow. I rise shakily to my feet. What did I do? Or better yet, how did I do it? Their stares stick to me like sap, and I back into Talon again until I feel him at my side. I don’t want to admit I need his help to stand.

  Snake Tattoo rises and adjusts his shirt, sheathing his dazeblade with a shink. “You’re a ripe little demon, aren’t you?” He gives me a twinkle-eyed grin.

  Talon chuckles. “You have nothing to fear from me,” he tells them. “Ambry on the other hand…”

  More chuckles disperse among them. I wheel around and goggle at Talon. What does he think he’s doing?

  “We snuck away instead of waiting for some Arc to sink his claw into us,” Grisly says. He’s the only one not laughing. The butterfly knife is still in his hand. “Found this other group of Deserters and joined them.”

  “You’re very lucky,” says Talon. He’s not any older than Grisly, but his tone makes him appear that way. “But you don’t have to explain anything. We won’t turn you in.”

  Relieved looks cover their faces. A few of them even smile as they swap glances.

  “Don’t get lazy,” Talon goes on. He starts pacing like he’s the leader of their brigade. I want to roll my eyes. “Soldiers patrol everywhere. Even the woods. And they won’t look well on men who abandon their posts.”

  Grisly shakes his head, and another boy with black hair pipes up. “They won’t find us out here. They’ve all got orders to head back to the city.”

  The city. Ren has to be there. He has to.

  Talon bends for his pack and hands me mine. I take it, limbs still quivering. “Just the same. Watch your backs.”

  “You watch ‘em,” Grisly says, folding his arms. It sounds like a challenge.

  “Hey,” I say, feeling the need to defend Talon.

  “Don’t,” Talon says in my ear. He’s so close that his chest presses against my arm. “They’ve been through a lot. They just want to get home.”

  Home. Ren was beaten and dragged from my house. That’s probably what happened to each of these guys, too.

  ***

  “Do you think they’ll be okay?” I ask after we separate enough from them that Talon feels it’s safe to set up camp.

  “That kid Grisly won’t. He’s too flippant.”

  “He definitely rubbed me the wrong way.”

  “Speaking of flippant,” Talon says, crouching down and collecting a few branches, “You said it was laughable that you could ever pose a threat to me.”

  “Well,” I say, my cheeks flushed. “It is.”

  Seriousness masks over his face. I can’t help staring. How can a smile like the one he gave me come from that face? A face that’s given me nothing but glares and scowls? I thought he was good-looking before, but he seems different to me, as if there are parts that are attractive but I haven’t noticed them until now.

  “You told me you didn’t find your magic.”

  “I didn't." He should
know; he sat there watching me.

  He analyzes me. Blinks. “That back there with them? That was the first time? Ever?”

  I thrill with the realization. “Yeah.”

  Talon shakes his head and sets down another log on the pile. “I’ve never seen anyone do that well on a first attempt. Not just the attack, but blocking a hit.”

  I dig my hands into the pockets of my jeans, unsure how to handle his praise. It doesn’t seem to fit him. Or I just don’t know how to deal with this other side of him.

  “You sound like you’ve trained a lot of people.”

  “Just a few,” he says in his way of never directly answering any of my questions.

  “Did you make that happen?” I ask. “My magic? I’ve never felt it before.”

  “I gave you a little push the first time,” he says with a nod. “But that trick you pulled with the circle was all you.”

  It’s a pretty selfless thing for someone like him to say. I want to tell him thanks, but with his outward, no-acknowledgment policy, I keep it to myself. Inside, though, I feel like dancing. I can’t believe it—I have magic! I’m not a freak after all. I want to shout it, to scream it.

  Mostly, I want to tell Ren. Or Gwynn. But I don’t have a clue where either of them is.

  I’m not sure what I would have done if Ren was in that group. More so, I question whether he would desert a cause like those others had. I can’t judge—I don't know what they’ve been through. But it must be bad for them to run from it. Worry for Ren ghosts through, but I push it away and change my focus to something else, something I've only dreamed of.

  I. Have. Magic.

  I try again to summon it, to see if it’s still there and prove to myself that it really happened. What if it goes back to being only vapor? What if I only felt it that one time and I never will again? The sun is setting, cooling the layer of sweat on my skin. I breathe in the forest's lemony, earthen smell, and try to remember exactly what the magic felt like.

  To my relief, the usual, empty vapor is gone, replaced with something small, cold, and trickling. I call to it, but it fizzles, just out of reach.

  Talon returns with more wood in his arms. I take in the confident tilt of his shoulders, the tightly corded muscles flowing beneath his brown shirt. His head lowers as if in thought.

  There is something good about him. Something more than this apparent obsession for my tears. I can’t help replaying his voice in my head, when he said that trick I pulled in the circle was all me. And that smile he gave me. That smile. I peek southwest in my tears’ direction before he tosses a bundle of slippery fabric at me.

  “I keep an extra sleeping bag in the vehicle,” he says in answer to my questioning look.

  “On the off chance that you’ll kidnap someone?” I reply with a smile.

  He ignores me. I open the sleeping bag onto the ground near the pile of wood Talon gathered. Trees circle the patch of dirt and dead grass, clumping thickly around us.

  Gwynn, Ren, and I camped in our backyard sometimes, but I’ve never roughed it like this before. The more time I spend with Talon, the more I realize how sheltered I was in Cadehtraen. A damp chill settles in, and the thick, loamy aroma of the forest rides on the air.

  “So when are you going to tell me who you are?” I ask, sinking down onto a log opposite from him. He kindles a fire, and it crackles and spits at me, spewing chunks of heat in my direction.

  His eyes meet mine. “You know who I am.”

  “But I don’t. Not really. I know your name is Talon, and that you fight like the Arcs do. Better, actually. But you’ve told me you’re not one of them.” Tyrus seemed like his mentor or something. And not only did I see him with them, but Grisly claimed he saw Talon with the Arcs at one point as well. It doesn’t measure up.

  “You know as much as you need to know.” The budding fire transfers some of its glow to his face, playing off his features. Flames crackle and build, licking up the wood. Wind blows suffocating smoke in my direction, and I cough and wave it away.

  I kick a rock only to have it ricochet off a burning log. Some kind of answer that was. “Why bother bringing me along if you’re going to be Top Secret Guy?”

  He rests an elbow on his knee. “Just use your head for now.”

  “Ha. I’d be able to use it better if I knew what was going on. And how did you help me find my magic? People have been trying for years, yet you were able to do it in only a couple of hours. Are you inhumanly strong or something?”

  “I told you, you did it yourself.”

  I huff in frustration. Nothing like a bunch of cryptic answers to help me feel like I’m being led in circles.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says, pulling a hatchet from his pack.

  He leaves me alone at the fire without answering any more. The front of me is warm, almost too hot, while my back half dips in the chilly night air. Chunking noises ring nearby; Talon chopping more wood for our fire.

  I should give him a break; help him with the firewood. But I’m as clueless with outdoor survival as I was with magic. I still can’t believe he was able to help me Torrent.

  I close my eyes, trying to remember exactly what charmed the magic forward earlier. I breathe in the smoky night air—in and out. In and out. Concentrate; train all my thoughts in a single direction.

  The same mist, a frothy vapor, streams through the hollow tunnels of my bones. In and out. In and out. The mist thickens, my breathing deepens. And finally, it bubbles up, a small rivulet, curling its tail all along my bones like a stray cat that’s just discovered I’ll give it some tuna.

  Small sparks fizzle at my fingertips, tickling with cold like newly fallen snow. I open my eyes and admire the dancing sparks and their bright flecks of light reflecting from the fire. Too soon, the sparks fade, the stream slows until it burrows back down once more.

  I let out a grunt. “No, come back!”

  “It will come with practice,” Talon says. My frustration dissipates as he sets the latest pile down and kneels beside me.

  Firelight dances in his darkened eyes, shadows along his cheekbones, deepens his already concentrated gaze. I don't dare move, not with him so close and this new shift between us.

  I swallow, far too conscious of my breathing. “In school, teachers always talked about control. But it’s like I have the opposite problem—there’s not enough coming out to control.”

  He stares at the fire. “I think your magic is different. Whatever blocked it before is making it different.”

  How can he know that? “Who are you, Talon?” I ask, trying our argument once more. “Please, tell me.”

  “You’ll know more about me when I’m ready for you to,” he says softly in his peculiar accent and that velvet voice.

  “And you’re not ready for me to know more.”

  He stares at the flames and stokes the fire with a nearby stick. The silent answer is enough. For now.

  Every inch of me senses his skin, his leg kneeling near mine. I don’t get what’s going on. Why he’s suddenly changed so much. He’s not any different than he was before, but this change, this...admiration between us is different. I like it. And that scares me.

  He sinks back onto his foot and rests an arm on his knee. Muscles strain the lines of his brown shirt, roping down his arm.

  I’m growing more agitated with him the longer I sit here, and yet I want to reach out and touch his skin. Nothing’s making sense. I don’t get these rickety moods of his. One minute he’s angry, the next he makes a comment refuting every other remark.

  “Can you at least tell me what our immediate plans are?” I ask. We’ve been heading toward the tears, but that can’t be all there is to this whacked-out journey we’re on.

  “That’s in your hands, actually,” he says, sliding me a husky look.

  “Mine? Why?”

  The tears pang at my back, reminding me of their direction. Right. I’m leading him to them.

  Talon sighs and frowns into the heat of the fir
e. “There’s also someone I need to find. I want to know who shed those tears, and I think he has a way of determining that.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “And you think it’s important, to know whose they are?”

  His fire-gleamed eyes hold me still. “Very.”

  Talon insists we leave the vehicle behind and foot it out so I can get in better shape for training. I’m growing accustomed to the scenic beauty of the Ramald Forest, with its interspersing pines, beeches and spice trees. The dense trees, the sunlight dabbling through the canopy they make, it all looks the same after camping in it for weeks. I’ve even gotten used to lake baths and swishing out the camp smoke embedded in my clothes.

  “Where did you learn to fight?” I ask, breaking from sit-ups and crunches for a long gulp of water. My body absorbs it instantly, craving more. I set the bottle down on my knee and wipe my forehead.

  “I paid attention, that’s all. Are you ready?”

  I’m not sure why I bother asking him questions anymore.

  I take another drink. My muscles sponge over like they’re melting into marshmallows, but I nod.

  “On your feet, then. We’ll start lunges.”

  I look at the dirtied black boots Talon has me wearing. Blisters blare at me from under the leather, and the next thing I know I’m shoved flat on my back. Air punches out of me. The back of my ribs blazes with pain.

  Talon’s boots cage my head—they smell like worn, dirty rawhide—and he bends down. “You’re dead.”

  I cough. “What did I do wrong?” I didn't even stand yet!

  He offers a hand and I slide my fingers into his calloused grip. I debate holding on, just to see what he’ll do, but I let go once he helps me to my feet.

  “Never take your eyes from your opponent. Never!”

  The line of his jaw, those penetrating eyes. I could do with never taking my eyes from him.

  He strides back, hands clasped in a stance that shrouds him with confidence and just plain appeal in his black, dirt-strewn pants and shirt.