“Good morning.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “In breaking news, long-time commander of the Continental Guard, General Clayton Trent, is stepping aside. The new commander who will be sworn in at a ceremony later today is General Shane Beckyr, a veteran of the Guard. As a result of the shooting at the beginning of the summer, General Beckyr plans to take immediate steps to halt the momentum begun by that unfortunate incident. As one of his first acts, he is spearheading the effort to set up Natural Re-Education Centers around the continent. Every Natural will be required to enroll at the nearest NRC. All Naturals will undergo a rudimentary interview and will be required to stay for a four week instructional course to prepare for legal participation in Elemental society. This is not an optional check-in; appearances are required.”
Stanwick Jones looked worriedly off to the side before returning his gaze to the camera. “To recap: if you are a Natural, General Beckyr has signed an official conscription that requires your immediate registration at the nearest Natural Re-Education Center. Failure to appear will result in severe punishment.”
Jones continued, but Alayne stared blankly at the image, her mind racing. Whatever rock General Shane Beckyr had crawled out from under, he was threatening her father. Her mother, too, since Wynn would never leave her husband. It wasn't legal, at least not yet, to kill a Natural, but Alayne was intelligent enough to realize that even without the support of the law, her father could easily be killed in one of the NRCs, and his death merely ruled an “accident.”
Alayne had to talk to her parents, to warn them if they hadn't heard. She swung her legs back over the bench and stood. Daymon blocked her way to the chute. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“Back to the dormitories.”
“I'm going with you.”
“Daymon, you're not allowed.”
Daymon huffed in frustration. “Just tell me what you're planning to do. Please?”
Alayne glanced at the students around her before grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the chute. “I'll tell you upstairs.”
She entered the chute and hit the button for the common room. They whooshed upward and stumbled out of the car into a scene of mass confusion. The MIUs across the common room showed Jones' image and the same list of NRCs. The anchor's voice was amplified as it was multiplied by at least six different MIUs.
“Alayne!” Marysa raced across the common room toward her, her wet hair flopping in her face. “Did you hear?”
Alayne nodded, glancing back at the images in the air. Kyle appeared behind them. “What are you going to do?” he asked Alayne.
All three of Alayne's friends stared at her, concern written on their faces. She was the only one with a non-Elemental father.
Alayne opened her mouth, but the chute doors banged open behind them again. Professor Manders stepped into the common room, striding quickly toward them. He slipped his fingers around Alayne's arm and led her to the fringes of the room, planting himself between her and the rest of her friends.
“Your parents are safe for the moment, Alayne. I've moved them to another location for a while, but they're fine. We'll see how things develop, but you're not to worry about them, do you understand?”
“I want to see them—”Alayne began, but Manders emphatically shook his head.
“No, Alayne, you can't right now. There are too many people watching too many things. You should know that you're still a prime target. The EA wants your abilities with the Vale, and it's known that your father is a Natural. You're going to be watched very carefully, so for right now, you need to stay put. I will keep you updated, okay?”
His gray eyes focused intently on Alayne as he waited. She slowly nodded.
Manders had not released his grip on her arm; he did so now, and relief flashed in his eyes. “Well, this is going to cause a huge ruckus with parents, so I need to go help take care of that now. But Alayne, be safe.” He glanced over his shoulder at his nephew. “Daymon, stay close to her.”
He hurried off as quickly as he had come, and Alayne gazed past the concerned faces of her friends to the MIU images beyond, filled with fury at the High Court, Professor Pence, Shane Beckyr, whoever he was, and anyone else associated with tipping her world upside down.
Chapter 7
In the following weeks, Alayne found it difficult to concentrate on her studies. Thoughts of her parents crept in while she struggled with a test answer or concentrated on finding an element and moving it. Professor Brinks, Alayne's Advanced Elementals professor, looked sternly at her over the rim of her spectacles after one class. “Really, Miss Worth, I expected better of you. You did so well in my classes last year; what's the problem?”
Alayne glanced over her shoulder as the last students exited the classroom and shrugged. “I'll get there, Professor.”
Brinks sighed and removed her spectacles, resting one fist on her waist and gesturing with the glasses. “Miss Worth, you're failing my class. You started out poorly, and you haven't improved as much as I would have hoped. I know you have no trouble with the elements, because I've seen some impressive displays of talent from you outside of class. What I want is for you to concentrate on bringing your talent into my class. Do you think you can do that?”
Alayne dropped her gaze to the floor and hooked her fingers behind her back. “Yes, ma'am,” she whispered.
“Good. If you can't pull your grade up, Alayne, you're done with hockey. Is that clear?”
Alayne nodded.
“Okay. You're dismissed.” Brinks sat down at her desk, and Alayne turned slowly for the door.
Marysa met her in the hallway. “What did she say?”
“I'm failing the class, and I have to get my act together, or I'm out of hockey.”
Marysa made a face. “Well, I've never liked hockey all that much, but I do enjoy coming to watch you play. But Layne, you've never had problems with grades before. Are—is it your parents?”
Alayne nodded. She glanced behind her down the hallway. “I've been thinking of using the mirror.”
Marysa's eyes grew as large as saucers.
“No—not to visit,” Alayne hastened to reassure her. “Manders says that's still too dangerous for them. But just to talk for a little. I haven't even been able to send them messages since they went away.”
She would never admit it to Marysa, but loneliness constantly rocked Alayne's world. She'd been thinking more about the mirror lately, hoping to use it to see her parents face to face. But whenever she thought of the mirror, she thought of Jayme, too, who had so faithfully assisted her in putting the shattered mirror back together, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. He'd helped her discover some of its properties, watched her open its portal, stepped through it with her into her living room at home. He'd teased her to make her smile while they studied the mirror's pieces, and one by one, as the shards had settled into the frame, Alayne's life had settled, too. Clutter had become simplicity, and confusion, order. Light had filtered through the black pressure of finding the Vale to save Marysa's life. Jayme had forced hope into Alayne's existence—until it had shattered again when the knife had bypassed her defenses, and she'd stood helpless as he'd plunged over the falls.
Marysa's voice called Alayne back to the present. “I know; my mom's been lamenting to me in all her letters that she misses your mom. She hasn't been able to get out much, but from what she says, Shane Beckyr is keeping the City Centres in lock-down mode. They have curfews and everything. Funny how they said the NRCs wouldn't affect daily life for most of us. It does; Mom and Dad haven't been able to go anywhere for the last month.”
Alayne eyed her sharply. “Has she—said anything?”
“About where your parents are?” Marysa shook her head. “The MIUs are an open book to the Continental Guard. They've been censoring any incoming and outgoing mail. No, Mom's careful about what she tells me.”
Alayne nodded. “Good. Want to come with me?”
“To use the mirror?” Marysa
asked. “Sure, when?”
“It's in the storage rooms beneath the spire. Manders put it there at the end of last year for safe-keeping. I guess it makes sense; it was the property of the Guardians in the first place. But I know he's not going to let me use it; he'll insist that it's too dangerous. I'll have to steal a key, and we might get caught. Sure you want to come?”
A spark of mischief appeared in Marysa's sky-blue eyes. “Positive.”
* * *
Alayne's first hockey game was in mid-October. They'd had three- and four-practice weeks, and Alayne was finding it hard to get enough sleep between the physical exertion, staying up late studying, and attending her classes. Professor Brinks's warning had sharpened her concentration. She still worried about her parents, but at least now she could confine her worries more easily to a specific time and place.
Alayne stood in her stall in the locker room and yanked her blue jersey down over her long-sleeved shirt. She grabbed her skates and exited the stall, collapsing next to Kyle where he sat on the bench. His head was bent over a clipboard, and Alayne watched him rub his thumb along the hem of his jersey. The rest of the team would be coming any minute. She knew he wanted to have his plays ready to go over with them as soon as they were all gathered.
“Nervous?”
Kyle tossed the clipboard onto the floor and grinned at her. “A little. But I'm pumped, too; are you?”
“Sure.” Alayne tugged the corners of her mouth upward into what she hoped was a convincing smile.
Kyle's grin slowly faded. He swung his leg over the bench so he faced her squarely. After a moment's hesitation, he reached across the space between them and took her hand in his.
Alayne stiffened immediately with the shock. “Kyle—”
“You're not happy, Alayne.” He watched his fingers as they played with her own. “Care to tell me about it?”
Alayne watched their hands, too, and stopped trying to pull away. “You already know about it, Kyle.”
“But sometimes, it helps to talk things out,” he murmured. “I just want to see you smile, Layne. I want to chase the sadness from your eyes and make them dance again.” He reached over with his free hand and smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I think, if you really look for it, you can find room in your heart for me.”
His hand still rested on the side of her face. His gaze held hers, and the longing she read in them tore at her insides, reminding her again of Jayme, of the feelings she'd tossed around last year.
Kyle's glance flicked down to her lips. Alayne gently but firmly slid her hand from his and backed up on the bench. “You're a good friend, Kyle. But that's all I can give you,” she said, shattering the stillness.
The hurt that spread across Kyle's face turned Alayne's head away. He said nothing, and Alayne searched for a way to make her statement easier. “We—we've gone over this, Kyle. I love you like a friend, so much. But Jayme—”
“Yeah.” Kyle's voice was bitter. “I get it. Jayme will always be there, no matter how dead he is, no matter how much his body rots in the ground, you're going to carry a torch for him for eternity, aren't you?”
He launched himself off the bench, pacing back and forth, his hands digging into his curly blond hair.
“Kyle—”
“No, no, you listen to me, Layne. You can't think of anyone but yourself, can you? You drain all the emotional energy out of every single relationship you've ever had and use it, for you. To comfort you. To keep you going. You don't once think about the rest of us who spend time and effort trying to make a relationship with you work.”
Alayne's mouth opened and then closed. Kyle stared at her, his eyes burning holes into her conscience.
Alayne was hurt. And angry. To be accused of being the taker in every relationship stung. She stood. “I don't know what planet you're living on, Kyle, but that is not the case. I work hard to maintain a friendship with you. I work hard—worked hard to create and build one with Jayme. With Marysa. Even with Daymon, although I never thought I'd hear myself say that. You do not get to rub my face in what you think I should be doing, are we clear?”
Kyle strode forward, his hands resting on her cheeks, the sides of her neck. “Is there anything in there, in those big green eyes, that sees me as a future possibility? Even a very far-distant one?”
Alayne refused to retreat or to shrink away. He needed to know that she stood strong on her decision. “Kyle, part of me feels sorry for you. I don't know how else to feel. When you want something so desperately, something you can't have, the only emotion I can pull up is pity.”
“Ha! Pity!” His voice broke on the last word, and then suddenly, he kissed her, roundly, forcefully, and angrily. There was nothing gentle about it. His lips claimed hers, refusing release. His hands were iron hooks; she couldn't move.
At long last, he lifted his head. Wild, raw emotion threaded his expression. “Layne,” he whispered. He swallowed and stepped back. “I'm sorry.”
Alayne's fingertips trembled as she touched her lips. “I am, too.”
Someone across the room cleared his throat. Kyle and Alayne jerked their gazes to the door, Kyle's face flushing a deep violet beneath his freckles. Alayne felt the heat creep up her neck. The entire rest of the team stood silently in the doorway. All of them were grinning.
“Don't mind us,” Alex laughed as he swung his bag off his shoulder. “Carry on as before.” He plopped onto a bench near the wall and stripped off his shirt.
“I didn't know you guys were a couple.” Wryn Jasper glanced at Alayne as she pulled her skates from her bag. Alayne said nothing. If she thought that was a “couple” kiss, it must have looked much calmer than it was.
“But then, you don't usually know about things until way past when they happen,” Alex shot across the room at Wryn. He beaned her shoulder with a wadded up sock.
Alayne leaned over and grabbed her skates. “I gotta go.” She walked swiftly from the locker room, leaving a silent wake behind her.
* * *
The team skated onto the rink, and Alayne fought to get her focus back on the feel of the ice—and off the captain of her team. She bit her lip in frustration. Now it was going to be awkward between them. Just don't let it be awkward. Treat him the same way you always have. He'll come around.
The ref's whistle blew, and Alayne blinked as Kyle and the opposing team's captain fought for the puck. Kyle caught it with his stick and swished it her way. She missed it by a mile.
“Head in the game, Worth.” Cole sped past her and rounded up the puck. He sent it up the ice toward Wryn, and Alayne sprinted up the ice after it. The game went on and the seconds ticked down toward zero. Alayne had just accepted a pass from Kyle and streaked toward the opposite side when suddenly the ring around her finger seared a burning band into her skin. Alayne shrieked, whirling around in panic, her eyes searching the stands.
The element bend was powerful, more powerful than most of the routine bends she felt during classes. Static charged the air; Alayne could feel the electricity on every part of her body. The stands grew deathly silent. The other hockey players dropped their sticks and looked around in confusion.
And then Alayne felt a very definite pressure around her head, squeezing, pulling at her temples. She threw her gloves onto the ice, catching her temples between her hands. The pain increased. Her ring burned hotter. A cry escaped her lips.
Everyone stared at her. Kyle headed her way at a sprint, inexplicable anger on his face as he searched the stands.
Then the pressure stopped. The elements snapped back to normal, and the pressure faded. Everyone shouted across open, vacuous spaces at each other. Teachers ran onto the ice, and Alayne found her arm gripped in Daymon's fingers as he shepherded her from the rink to the locker room. Kyle followed, walking close beside them.
“What happened?” Alayne asked shakily as soon as they entered the room.
Something like panic turned Daymon's blue eyes to navy, and that intense gaze carefu
lly roamed over every inch of her face. He spat out the question, “What did you see on your first day of classes down at the river?”
Understanding sparked in Alayne's mind. This was a test. “Monty.”
Daymon heaved a sigh of relief. “So it's true. You really can't be Shadow-Casted if you possess the Vale.”
“What—what do you mean?”
He pointed out the door. “That, Alayne, was an attempt at Shadow-Casting, the most powerful attempt I've ever felt.”
Alayne blinked at him and then stared at Kyle. His face was ashen, though anger darkened his eyes.
“Who did it?”
Daymon shook his head. “Don't know yet. But I intend to find out. Meanwhile, don't leave this room. I've got to go check some things.” He yanked open the door of the locker room and jogged down the hall toward the arena.
Marysa wheeled around the corner, panic on her face. “Is she okay?” She threw her arms around Alayne's neck, nearly knocking her backward into the bench. “I thought someone was trying to kill you or do something really horrible to you. Are you okay? Stop standing there and open your mouth. I'm dying over here.”
Alayne's mouth twitched. “I'm fine, Marysa. Someone did try to Shadow-Cast me, though. At least, that's what Daymon said.” She went to the door and glanced out into the hallway. “Marysa, Daymon said he felt the Cast in the arena. I didn't know you could feel a Shadow-Cast.” She thought of the three Shadow-Casted professors she'd spoken with at Cliffsides the year before.
Marysa plopped onto a bench. “You can, but I've read that if the person who does the Casting isn't very skilled, it's easier to feel. If they're really powerful, they can hide it.” She tangled her fingers into the ends of her hair as she answered Alayne's unasked question. “Cliffsides was your first experience around anyone who was Casted, so even if it had been tangible, you wouldn't have recognized it.”
Shadows of Uprising (Guardian of the Vale Book 2) Page 8
