Shine: The Knowing Ones

by Amy Freeman

  “Я не могу заниматься серфингом в этой воде!” I can’t surf in this.

  The flaxen haired little boy stood on the beach in his black wet suit with his surf board in his arms. The bright sun crested an early morning ocean in June. His home in La Jolla was within walking distance of Blacks Beach, his father always allowing him to go as long as his mentor was present to protect him.

  “I’m sorry Trinton,” Anvil replied. “You’ll have to make do.”

  Trin looked up. “I can make the waves bigger, Anvil. Then I can surf.”

  Anvil scanned the shore line, pointing out the other black figures in the water. “These others are making do,” he said. “They’ve gone out anyway.”

  Trin studied the energy of the other surfers. “They’re still learning,” he grumbled. “There aren’t any really good surfers out there.”

  Anvil squatted down next to Trin, leveling their gaze. “Trinton,” he began. “Tell me what you know about the tides.”

  Trin looked out at the ocean. “It’s a magnetic pull from the moon and sun tugging at the water.”

  “That’s right,” Anvil said. “It’s the result of a naturally occurring rhythm. What makes the waves bigger?”

  “Wind and storms.” His bright blue eyes gleamed. “You could help me, Anvil!”

  The strong warrior laughed at Trin’s innocent enthusiasm. “Wind and storms also have their own natural cycle, don’t they?”

  “Yes,” Trin said.

  “I can alter the winds, but it doesn’t mean I should.” He fixed Trin’s gaze. “Everything has its own order and rhythm, Trinton, and anything you do to the waves right now will alter those rhythms. You know very well how powerful water can be. You have a gift to communicate with it. If you alter the natural rhythm of this water right here, what do you think might happen?”

  Trin’s tanned little features twisted in thought. “It would affect all of the water,” he answered.

  “Right, and that could affect the land around the water and the people who live there.”

  Trin’s blonde head dropped forward in disappointment. “Yeah, I guess that could be really bad.”

  “Before you act you must always think about the consequences of your actions,” Anvil said. “No matter how badly you might want something.” He put a comforting hand on Trin’s shoulder. “It will be all right,” he assured him. “The beginners need a slow day occasionally so they can learn too.” He stood. “Now, why don’t you get in there and show those amateurs how it’s really done.”

  Trin’s competitive little face broke into a grin. He gripped his board, sprinting toward the water.

  Trin opened his eyes, leaning back into his seat.

  “You cannot defeat Ashbel alone and keep Samantha safe. That is precisely how he got to Anavi,” Anvil said. “Separating us was his plan all along. It is the only way he can defeat you. He knows that.”

  Trin stared through the glass. “There’s something else.”

  Anvil paused. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Trin replied. “But I know I am supposed to wait.”

  “For what?”

  Trin looked down. “I don’t know. My head is a mess. The truth is I don’t know exactly how to defeat Ashbel. But neither do you; neither do the Elders. None of us even know where he is or what he wants. Our arsenal consists of three things; your sixth sense as his twin, the Elders’ educated speculations from his past, and me. That’s it.” Trin’s voice softened. “I’m not trying to be difficult,” he said. “I’m just pointing out that what has worked in the past may not work in this situation, and yes, the motivation behind my choice is keeping Sam safe. I admit that. But isn’t that what everyone wants? If we lose Sam we lose everything. Just like before. It would be a devastating loss to all of us. Not just me. You know that better than I hope I ever will.”

  Anvil listened. “Trinton, this is your mission. The Divinity has provided us with you specifically. Therefore, it is ultimately your choice how you handle it. But as it was when you were little on that beach, you must make your choice for the right reasons. If you are wrong, you are still wrong. You can’t let your emotions cloud your logic. Our fate depends on your choices. I have faith in you, Trinton.” And with that he was gone.

  Trin closed his eyes dropping his head back against the seat, then leaned forward, grabbing his keys from the ignition. He climbed out of his truck and went inside for what promised to be a restless night’s sleep.

  The Entity hovered—his darkness saturating humanity, drowning them, prodding, coercing, causing havoc, but with limits. His power was caged because it did not have a home.

  He watched; ever envious of their physical bodies. Oh the power. Intelligence inserted into flesh was akin to an electric charge, a spirit in flesh, endless possibilities.

  He studied the past, the future, flipping through time like pages in a book. They were easy enough to manipulate, unaware of their power, denying it even. Using their chaos was so easy. Forces beyond their comprehension simply “did not exist,” but these forces did exist, and this he craved more than anything; physical access to them.

  He would find a way in.

  No more merely planting self-doubt and insecurity. A ridiculous amount of succulent pain hung in the human environment, just waiting for a master. Like perpetual chaos machines they disregarded the power of thought, carelessly spouting rage, hatred, malicious intent.

  Biting thoughts and words continually cut into the atmosphere, burning the very essence of each human being. Even the environment was affected. Once projected or vocalized, the energy remained causing pain, damage; eating away at hope and esteem like a cancer. The end result, an endless supply of jarring negativity. Dormant power, so much of it.

  Corruption was rampant, but too soon it wouldn’t be. The infiltration had begun. They had the supreme vehicle of physical bodies from which to throw their enormous power. They would not stop him again.

  He had secured what he needed this time. If all went as planned he would once and for all break the seal and cross into the physical world.

  He had but one individual to locate. It was only a matter of time.

  He followed the new Keeper using the young man’s distinct aura as a tracking device.

  ...find her...

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Trin filtered into the natatorium with the rest of his team. Cement walls trapped a thick scent of chlorine as upbeat music echoed through the large glass and concrete enclosure. Trin stared forward, eyes tired—his mind spinning in overdrive from the events of the previous night.

  He worked to regain focus. Gazing out over the water his aura flickered. Of all the great teammates in the room with him now, the water was by far his best companion. Reaching the side wall, he removed his warm up suit, exposing his magnificently fine-tuned body, and began stretching.

  Chris arrived at his side, removing his own warm up suit. He and Adam had both come in later than usual for a night before a meet.

  Trin looked up, eyes glinting. “Rough night?”

  “I’m guessing my night was more fun than yours was, puss. You were out cold and alone by the time we got home—and what’s up with that anyway?” he added. “That fine chick at our table. Where’d she end up?”

  Trin squatted down by the edge of the pool, dipping his goggles in the water.

  “At her place where I left her.”

  Chris grinned. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Trin stood, put his goggles on, and headed for the pool.

  “Aw c’mon, man. Nothing?”

  Trin finished pulling his cap on, jumped in the pool, and began swimming warm up laps.

  Chris shook his head, and went for his own cap and goggles.

  Sam pulled the door open and walked in. She had never been inside the Athletic Complex and had no idea where to go.

  He’s going to think I’m psycho. I should leave; just meet him at the library at
five o’clock.

  She turned around with the intent of leaving but then stopped. She wanted to see him swim. This was Trin Kosolov. If nothing else, she could justify that, couldn’t she?

  Maybe he won’t notice I’m here.

  Then she remembered who she was referring to. She paused a moment and then continued into the facility. She wandered through the main hallway looking for the pool. A girl in volleyball attire ran past her toward the restroom.

  She called out after her. “Excuse me.” The girl stopped and turned.

  “Where’s the pool?” Sam asked.

  “It’s in the center of the complex,” the girl replied. “Go down the hallway and through the doors. You’ll see it once you’re outside.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sure!”

  She bounded off toward the restroom as Sam headed down the hallway. She found the doors and pushed through. There it was; the big, bad natatorium that currently housed Trin Kosolov.

  I must be out of my mind. I’m stalking him.

  She circled the large glass enclosure, searching for a discreet entrance, selecting a door that opened to the top corner row of bleachers.

  As she entered the announcer had already begun introducing the team. Frantically searching for a hidden seat in the top row, she allowed herself a glance at the swimmers as they filed in. Even dressed in identical warm up suits, she found him instantly. That aura was one of a kind.

  Her heart hammered in her chest at the sight of him, her stomach in a tight knot. She scanned the row, finding a seat in the corner. Perfect.

  She slipped through and sat down. The announcer continued naming off each swimmer one by one, eliciting cheers.

  “Trin Kosolov.” The crowd roared. Sam’s fingers tightened around the bench.

  Once the introductions were complete, the team began shucking their deck coats. Sam lowered her head, eyes locked on Trin.

  He unzipped the front of his jacket and pulled it open. A soft gasp escaped Sam’s lips...my God. Large muscles moved beneath his tanned skin as he worked—his broad shoulders flexing, engaging the hard, powerful chest she had felt against her the night before. His lean torso boasted a cut six pack, defined bands of smooth muscle that extended downword under the hem of his black Speedo. A rush of warmth burrowed low within her.

  He pulled the jacket off, laying it aside. Grabbing the waistband of his pants, he pushed them over his powerful legs and stepped out. Sam clenched the fabric of her shirt, surprised by the intense desire welling up within her. He now stood nearly naked in front of her, sculpted to

  perfection, primal sensuality flushing her skin.

  She watched him move, the skill and grace of a true athlete, with something more. All the swimmers were finely tuned machines; impressive in their own right. But Trin was electrifying. A distinct power embraced him and she wondered if she was the only one who could feel it.

  He picked up his goggles, about to pull them on when he froze, standing perfectly still for a moment. He lifted his head toward the crowd...and locked eyes with Sam.

  A crimson flush filled her cheeks, and what was worse, she knew he could see it. She was utterly exposed. An intoxicating grin broke across his face. Sam gave a weak smile, and a sheepish wave. He laughed, shaking his head. Sam’s face dropped to her hands.

  Trin was no longer tired. Finding focus was now next to impossible. He mumbled in Russian.

  “Uh, the boy’s speaking in Rūsky,” Chris said. “What’s up, bro?”

  Trin glanced at him and then looked up at Sam. Chris followed Trin’s gaze and laughed.

  “Nice,” he said. “Focus, bro. We need you.”

  Trin shook his head, exhaling. He pulled his goggles on, then his cap, shaking his arms out and stretching. First to race, he mounted the platform. The water before him ignited in shimmering light, responding to his presence. Communication ensued. Golden energy sang from his skin, a living essence shining into the water, reflecting back as the sea beneath a rising sun. Only one person witnessed the exchange, and she sat dumbfounded in the top row.

  “Swimmers take your marks...”

  The sprinters dropped into position, hunched over, fingertips gripping the platform. The tone sounded and the swimmers dove in. Trin shot through the water, dolphin kicking to the surface. With majestic grace, he powered past all the other swimmers, his muscular shoulders rotating, throwing power into every stroke.

  Like lightning, he reached the “T,” flipping effortlessly. Pushing off the wall he rocketed in the opposite direction, switching strokes. As usual, he was ahead of all the other swimmers. Reaching the end of the pool, he flipped around and fired off again, switching to the butterfly stroke with perfect technique and incredible speed.

  Trin reached the wall and flipped one last time. Approaching the end of the lane, he reached for the touch several seconds before anyone else while the Ute fans went crazy. He came up out of the water, lifting his goggles, and checked the scoreboard. He didn’t care what it said, didn’t even see the numbers, far too distracted by the beautiful brunette in the top row. He hung back, catching his breath as the rest of the swimmers came in. He stole a quick glance to the top row, then dropped his gaze to the water, thankful to be in his element.

  The race concluded and the announcer’s voice sounded. “First place University of Utah, Trin Kosolov.” The deafening crowd roared as the swimmers exited the pool.

  Sam followed Trin as if he were the only person in the room. Removing his cap and goggles, he ran a hand through his sun bleached hair, water trickling in beads down his muscular back. With his thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose, he squeezed the excess water from his eyes.

  He headed toward the warm up pool, Sam’s eyes never wavering as he moved through the swimmers. He stopped to talk to the coach, one of his teammates giving him a congratulatory slap on the back. He smiled, teasing at her heart. He finished up with the coach and continued toward the warm up pool.

  When he reached the edge, he stopped and turned to Sam. Faint blue light ignited around his pupils, gleaming. The noise of the crowd faded then vanished and she heard Trin’s voice inside her head. Meet me out front after the meet.

  Sam stared, confounded. His gaze remained. Meet me out front after the meet. He waited for a response. She nodded. The thunderous noise resumed, Trin smiled, pulling his cap and goggles back on. In the warm up pool, he began swimming steady laps. Events continued in the other pool, holding the attention of the Ute crowd. But Sam’s eyes remained locked on the other pool and the enigmatic swimmer in lane two.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  S am stood out in front of the Athletic Complex. The meet was over and she was doing as she had been mentally instructed by Superman in the natatorium. The past twenty-four hours had been nothing short of surreal. She allowed a mental picture of Trin when he had first noticed her in the stands. She lowered her head and smiled. There were no words.

  Just then, as if her thoughts had been an introduction, the door to the complex opened and out walked Trin with two of his teammates, all dressed in identical black team warm ups trimmed in Ute crimson red. She recognized his friends as the two he had been out with the night before, both emitting deep, testosterone-filled auras.

  Trin lifted a hand toward her. “Chris, Adam, this is Sam.”

  “Hey, Sam,” Chris said, taking his hand from his pocket.

  Adam jerked his chin up. “How’s it goin’, Sam?”

  Sam smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Chris turned to Trin, his smile broadening. “Later, man.” He clapped him on the shoulder.”

  Adam nodded at Sam. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” she said. The two young men disappeared into the parking lot.

  Trin turned to Sam, eyes glinting. “This was a surprise.”

  “Well,” she said. “You’re Trin Kosolov. I had to take advantage of the opportunity to see you swim live.”

  “I see.”

  Sam lau
ghed.

  His light eyes skimmed over her, sending a thrill to the pit of her stomach. “Well, this alters our plans a bit,” he said.

  “Okay. Why?”

  “Because I am completely starving,” he said. “So you’re going to have to go to lunch with me, too.” He lifted a hand toward the parking lot, ushering her to his truck.

  “Oh,” Sam hedged. “I’m really not very hungry.”

  He opened the passenger door. “Well, you’re gonna have to watch me eat then, unless you want me to pass out during your Calc lesson.”

  “No,” Sam replied climbing in. “I totally need you conscious.”

  He laughed. “I am more useful that way.” He closed the door behind her.

  They pulled into a little restaurant on University Boulevard. Trin parked in a spot close to the door and shut off the engine. Out of habit Sam reached for her door handle.

  “Sam.”

  She pulled her hand back, shrinking into the leather seat. Trin climbed out of the truck, walked around to her side, and opened her door.

  She climbed out, wincing up at him. “Sorry, habit.”

  “Break it.”

  “All right.”

  He smiled, moving aside so she could climb out. They entered the small, chic deli; one of the many little restaurants that lined the drive. A counter up front offered several decadent selections, with tables by the windows and booths in the back. Trin walked Sam up to the counter and began scanning his options on the board. The weight of gawking admirers and fans closed in on them. He was oblivious to all of it.

  He looked down at Sam. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

  “I’ll have a glass of water.”

  Trin grinned, amusement in his eyes. He nodded in concession and a young woman about their age came to the counter. “What can I get you?”

  He looked back to the menu board. “I’ll have a pound of your chicken curry, two of your club sandwiches, a side of your steamed vegetables, some potato salad, and one of those brownies.”

  The girl began scribbling the large order down. Trin glanced at Sam, who was gaping in disbelief having watched him order half the restaurant. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said in feigned reproach. He looked to the server. “Can I get a glass of water?” He grinned down at Sam, who was now glaring. She gave him a shove. “Do your fans know you’re a smart ass?”