Empath

by Emme DeWitt

  Aleks’ lips locked onto mine. I shook the image from my mind.

  My fingers found my lips, and I slumped down into a puddle on the top of the bed. Flinging myself across the bed like a starfish, my eyes finally came to the ornate tiles in the ceiling.

  “Pull yourself together,” I repeated over and over again. “We can only think about kissing boys after we save the world. We’ve got a long way to go.”

  I woke to a boot nudging my ribcage. I groaned in protest, turning away from the intruder. My arms flailed out, and I could feel the plush carpet itching my cheek.

  I sat bolt upright, looking around in a panic. Carpet. Blanket. Papers strewn all around me in a nest of scribbles and arrows. My hands propped me up from the mess, but I was at a loss as to what I was looking at. My notebook with Henry’s intel was the only object I could place, but where the rest of the paper madness had come from, I wasn’t sure. My handwriting stared back at me, poking my consciousness to remember.

  “Did you sleep on the floor last night?”

  The look of disgust overflowed from Eli’s face down to her crossed arms as she loomed over me. Her presence sobered me more quickly than the many tactile sensations my mind was attempting to sift through. Funny how annoyance works.

  “Clearly,” I croaked, my voice thick with disuse.

  “Well,” Eli said, her toe nudging around some of the paper squall. “I suppose sleeping inside your room is an improvement over a linen closet.”

  I looked up at her blankly.

  Eli heaved a great sigh, clearly unimpressed with my lack of urgency.

  “You. Shower. Now,” she drilled at me, hauling me up by my armpits. Luckily, my legs were pulled free of the knotted up blanket, and I found sure footing as soon as she dropped me on my feet.

  I stumbled to the bathroom, then staggered back into my bedroom when I realized I had forgotten fresh clothing. Eli was already there, a clean stack in her hands, shoving the pile at me and spinning me around again.

  She slammed the bathroom door shut in my face.

  “Twenty minutes,” Eli called through the bathroom door. “And I know how to pick locks.”

  “Now,” I added. I scowled as I clicked the lock home, staring at it for several seconds, worried it would magically click back if I wasn’t vigilant.

  Grumbling, I wandered over to the shower and attempted to wake up enough to figure out the hot and cold water handle. I settled for cold at first, not willing to waste precious minutes when I had all my hair to dry.

  The brutal chill made for quick work.

  Even so, I was left barely enough time to dry my hair and brush my teeth. Eli was pounding on the door when I clicked off the hair dryer, so I rubbed my face a little to bring color to it, leaving my hair down and loose around my shoulders.

  I flung the door open, meeting Eli’s glare with my own.

  “You have the patience of a two-year-old,” I said to her.

  Eli grinned back menacingly.

  “And you look like a twelve-year-old without make-up,” she shot back. “Now that we’ve stated the obvious, can we go?”

  “Where?” I asked, grabbing a pair of skater shoes to slip into as Eli marched out the door without me. My provided uniform didn’t give any indication of what would happen next. At least I knew it wasn’t an audience with the President or anything.

  “Breakfast,” she said.

  “You made me rush for breakfast?” I asked, my hair whipping behind me as I jogged to catch up with her long-legged stride.

  “Most important meal of the day,” Eli said, grabbing the balustrade and peeling down the staircase at breakneck speed.

  “Then wake me up more than twenty minutes before you need me,” I crowed to her back. “I look like death warmed over because someone wouldn’t let me fully dry my hair.”

  “Let it air dry,” she threw back, leading the way to the main dining room.

  “Just get me an alarm clock already,” I groaned, forced to leap down the last few steps to make up lost time. “And slow down. I’m a foot shorter than you.”

  “The world’s not going to do you any favors, and neither will I,” she quipped, flinging open the door to the dining room and waving for me to enter before her.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I moaned, slowing down to catch my breath before entering the room. “You’re a frickin’ Amazonian war goddess, okay? Just have some compassion for us more normal-statured folk.”

  “Oh, I have compassion. It lives right next to my jar of dreams and unicorn tears on my nightstand,” Eli said, shutting the door in my face. “Enjoy.”

  “Always a pleasure,” I called through the door at Eli, holding back a rude hand gesture. I spun around to see the dining room empty except for a place setting for me. An envelope sat on the plate, and I snatched it, tearing it open before taking a seat. Opening the folded note, Aleks’ scribble greeted me.

  E,

  Sorry I had to skip breakfast. Important meeting in town. Granger (butler) will show you to the library when you’re done with breakfast. Have fun. We’ll catch up at dinner.

  Yours,

  A

  My cheeks flamed at the shorthand. I hadn’t even thought of Aleks being at breakfast, which was probably a good thing since I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act after last night.

  Pretend it didn’t happen?

  Warn him it couldn’t happen again?

  Suggestively hint I wouldn’t be super mad if it did?

  I smacked my hand on my forehead, dislodging that particular train of thought. Bad, bad thoughts.

  Exhaling slowly, I set the note aside. A man swooped in with a covered dish and unveiled a heavenly mass of scents and textures that screamed breakfast. I cleaned the whole plate, not slowing down for the imaginary guests in front of me. No need to look cute or pretend I didn’t have the appetite of a linebacker. My stomach purred in delight as it was slowly filled with delicious food.

  As soon as I was done, the gentleman who served me showed me toward the door, wasting no time or words in escorting me to the library. He shut the door behind him, and I was able to exhale any pretense of decorum I had salvaged in between the end of breakfast and being shown the library. Even a week after my escape, I still felt like anyone standing around was there to watch me. Not only that, but that they were taking notes and discussing my behavior amongst themselves.

  I shook off the paranoia that had begun creeping up my neck and focused on the shelf-lined walls and gorgeous stained glass windows. Being surrounded by books was in its own way a therapy. The musty smell of tree and ink wrapped around me like an old worn quilt, welcoming me home even though I had never been here before.

  The desk at the end of the room was spotless and clear of any clutter. I ran my fingertips across the top, noticing the leather inlay in the center. The door opened again, and this time a female staff member came in, carrying a stack of papers. I smiled at her, the grin widening once I realized she had brought the papers I had left in my room. My notebook weighted the stack down, and the woman deposited them on the desk along with a handful of new pens.

  She left me without a word, and I muttered a belated thanks as the door shut behind her.

  I remained standing, my hand tracing over the ornate carved back of the wooden desk chair. An odd sense of déjà vu overcame me, and I realized the layout and furniture had echoes of the old section in the Windermere library. As I stared at the lead-lined windows, I realized the age and style was too similar to not have a connection. Knowing this house was built by the same hands that built Windermere sent a chill shooting down my spine, and I had to do a lap around the edges of the library to calm myself.

  This level of coincidence made my stomach turn.

  My brainstorm papers had been shuffled in my sleep, but some present part of my mind late last night had had the decency to number them. I spread them all out on the desk in front of me and stared at the names of the families Henry had listed, their names and g
ifts delineated by generation in a chaotic attempt at a family tree.

  The intermarriages alone were a headache. I had left off trying to annotate the various unions by making symbols directing to other branches, but the cross matching was too much. I already had a headache, and I had only been back at it a few minutes.

  I flipped to a fresh page in the notebook Jasleen had gotten for me. I focused on the abilities and the planes Birdie had told me about. Instead of the spokes she had used, I decided in favor of squares. After all, balance needed to come from every side equally if what the prophecy had stated would come true.

  After several shaky attempts, the pile of crumpled pages growing exponentially on the floor around the desk, I had a few workable rough drafts. In the midst of my muttering, the woman from before had come in and set a thermos of coffee and a pile of sandwiches on the small coffee table between the two couches. She kept her distance from the desk, and I only looked up when I heard the click of the door shutting again.

  Desperate for a different perspective, I moved to the couch with its back to the door. With a sandwich in one hand and my pen in the other, I was able to work out a few more diagrams before the light dimmed from the windows, leaving me in near darkness.

  Suddenly, the lights snapped on around me, and I jumped.

  “Hey,” Aleks’ voice said from the doorway. “It’s just me.”

  I put my hand to my chest, realizing it was still clutching a sandwich. My eyes were blurry from so much focusing, and I blinked violently to try to bring them back into focus. Aleks sank into the couch opposite me, his hand covering his mouth. I realized his body was shaking a little.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I said, my voice cracking.

  “Nothing,” he said, clearly trying to smother his laughter. “Did you have a good day?”

  I was so distracted by the convulsions in his chest, I couldn’t answer his question.

  “Are you laughing right now?” I said, my hand still clutched to my chest.

  “Nope,” Aleks said, giggling at his own horrible attempt to lie. “Not at all.”

  “What’s so funny?” I said, looking around me at my mess of papers and open books. He sighed, trying to push out all his amusement, but failing, he reverted back to a full laugh.

  “It’s a tie between you cradling a half-eaten sandwich to your chest or your resemblance to Gollum seeing the light after centuries in a cave,” Aleks said, trying to keep it together enough to speak. He barely managed, and I was left trying to decipher his words.

  “Did you just say I look like Gollum?” I shrieked at him, hurling the remnants of my sandwich at him. “It is not nice to tell a girl she looks like Gollum! Even if she does!”

  Aleks continued laughing, curling himself reflexively into a protective ball as I looked around for something else to launch at him. A throw pillow was the only unimportant thing within reach, and I chucked it at his head.

  “Apologize!” I howled. “Take it back!”

  “No, not the Precious!” Aleks said in the worst Gollum impression I had ever heard.

  It was my turn to laugh uncontrollably.

  “That’s horrible,” I said, sobering up. “It really is. You should definitely say you’re sorry.”

  “I am very sorry my accurate description of your general state upset you,” Aleks said, crossing his arms across his chest and wiping tears from his cheeks. “But really. Do you always get so wrapped up in your research? I was gone for only a few hours.”

  “Studious champion,” I said, pointing both my thumbs to me. “What can I say? Go big or go home.”

  “How about go to dinner instead?” Aleks said, standing and offering me his hand. “Would the Precious like to freshen up or…”

  I smacked him hard with the spare pillow, beating him with it all the way to the door.

  The edge of the stainless steel counter bit into my back, right below my shoulder blades. I shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position to lean and eat my ice cream. So far, I was unsuccessful.

  After Aleks had led the way to the kitchen, I finally realized how late it had gotten. A lone staff member was in the kitchen and looked panicked stricken when she realized we might need a full meal. Aleks, much to my surprise, had offered a calm smile and told her not to worry. Her skeptical eyes lingered on us as she left the industrial grade kitchen, but she ducked out as soon as she was dismissed.

  “Ice cream for dinner,” I said, inspecting my loaded spoon suspended in midair. “Impressive.”

  “I am an excellent cook,” Aleks boasted.

  I snorted. I didn’t need any supernatural help to spot the lie.

  “Fine,” Aleks said, shutting the freezer door crisply. “I can burn water. But this isn’t so bad.”

  Aleks grabbed his own bowl off the counter and walked toward the island I was propped against. The kitchen had been completely renovated to support a five-star bistro. It seemed off in an otherwise well-preserved old manor house. Where there should have been carved oak cabinets, stainless steel tabletops and shelves glared back. My shoulders ached from their uncomfortable spot.

  Suddenly, I felt Aleks’ hands on my waist. A small yelp escaped me, and I found myself propped on top of the prep counter like a doll.

  Tendrils of rage and embarrassment snuck up my neck and colored my cheeks. My jaw hung slack in awe. I was unable to verbalize my indignation. Instead, my mind was spinning, focusing only on Aleks’ confident hold of my waist.

  I tried to count to ten, but kept losing track as waves of competing emotions crashed through me. The only thing grounding me was the chill of the bowl in my hand and the new bite of the countertop into the soft part at the back of my knees. Everywhere else was fire. My shins, braced against Aleks’ thighs. My waist, trapped in his hands. My eyes, locked on his. Our faces only inches apart.

  The waves continued to crash through me, and I wondered whose emotions they were. All mine? Or was Aleks feeling what I was feeling? What happened to the murky black cloud that normally surrounded him? I grabbed desperately at these questions, hoping logical thinking might break the spell my body was under. I couldn’t move.

  We stayed suspended like that for what seemed an eternity.

  “What is happening?” I finally managed to whisper aloud to the room. Of all the rotations of that question in my mind, finally my tongue loosed it into the supercharged air between us.

  Aleks slowly removed his hands from my waist, placing them on either side of me atop the counter. His eyes never backed down from mine, but his previously stoic face now sparkled mischievously with a slight smirk of his lips.

  Lips. No. We are not going to think about his lips.

  Too late. Aleks must have noticed my eyes dart down to his lips because he smiled more broadly.

  “You seemed uncomfortable,” Aleks said. His voice was soft, matching the intimacy of the three inches between our faces. “Is this better?”

  I pressed my lips together, finally bringing my jaw back up from the floor. I inhaled deeply through my nose, attempting to slow my racing heartbeat before I passed out.

  The amount of sensory input was overwhelming. I was having trouble separating the physical from the emotions and thoughts bombarding my consciousness. The more I tried to name and catalog what was going on in my mind, the more I felt the darkness of unconsciousness creeping into the edges of my mind.

  I was on the verge of complete shutdown.

  Normally, I would just throw up barriers haphazardly to push away the unwanted and overwhelming feelings. The sorting and boxing trick Dean Moriarty had offhandedly taught me didn’t seem to be working either, as there were too many things to sort in a short period of time.

  What would Noah do?

  Instantly, I thought of her. Noah would not tolerate such emotional turmoil to color her thoughts. She took charge of her mind. If she came up against an unknown, she would attack it head on. She would strategize, and she would execute. I needed offense, not defense.<
br />
  I held my breath.

  Amidst the cloud of emotion, I cleared a small path, letting the waves of emotion swell around me at the disturbance, but not limit them to a certain space as I had tried with the boxing method. They flared out but remained predictable. Good.

  My eyes remained caught in Aleks’ stare, and I used that connection to gain access into his mind. Much like my attempt with Eli, I had to work my way around some unintentional barriers to finally break into his mind. A slight tinge of guilt hit me in my gut, but I let it melt into the other waves of emotion around me.

  Once I was inside, I found Aleks’ motor center, leaving his memories and thoughts well alone.

  Step back, I directed, offering an image of Aleks stepping backward the two feet to the opposite counter.

  Immediately, Aleks stepped back as I had imagined, except the look on his face was pure shock. I couldn’t imagine him looking any more surprised than if I had kicked him between the legs.

  As soon as he was a foot away from me, the cloud of emotions dissipated with a pop in my internal ears. The murky cloud reappeared around Aleks’ feet, and a wave of sadness raged up within me. The wall was back up between us, and I should have been relieved. Instead, the bile rocked in my stomach as I watched shock, anger, and fear flash across Aleks’ face. My own emotions began to beat me down further. What little relief I had gotten was eclipsed by my own disgust and fear for what I had just done. And it hadn’t been that hard.

  My ice cream bowl crashed loudly to the ground, shattering the blue etched ceramic design I had been admiring only minutes before. I stared through my violently trembling hands at the mess of half-melted ice cream and shards of dishware and let the sadness take me.

  Sound rushed back to my ears, and I realized I was sobbing uncontrollably.

  My hands snapped to my mouth, trying to smother the noise echoing back to me in the sterile kitchen, reflecting my guilt a hundredfold in the form of audio torture. I curled into myself, hiding my face behind my curtain of hair, my forehead pressing itself firmly into my kneecaps. I couldn’t bear to look at Aleks. His expression was permanently seared into my memory, and my mind was looping it on repeat.