Half-Breed

by Zachary Smith

  Chapter 17

  I don’t move, nor do I speak. Even if I wanted to, I’m not sure I remember how. Instead, I continue to stare at this girl in front of me, scanning every inch of her face. Her beauty is something I have never seen before, something that ignites a spark within me. Not the painful burn of raw power, no, this is something else, something I relish in and want more of.

  Her skin is a rich cocoa brown which makes her light hazel eyes stand out. She has dark hair that curls down to her shoulders, with a spring to it, lifting it higher. And with her head held high, she joins me by the ledge, flashing me a bright smile. “So, you one of the newbies?”

  I try and answer her, I want to, but nothing comes to mind. Where my thoughts used to sound, has now become a black hole, devoid of all life, leaving behind an empty shell. Me.

  Resting her back against the wall, she raises an eyebrow. “You ok?”

  How long has it been since she’s joined me? Have I really not said one word to her? She must think I’m a weirdo… I even think I’m a weirdo. Just talk to her, a good witty reply, maybe even a joke? Something… Anything!

  I force a cough to loosen my throat. “Hi, I’m Mitchell.”

  “Alright Mitchell? Thought I’d lost ya there for a second.” She sniggers. “So you’re part of the group downstairs, right?”

  The muscles in my throat begin to contract again, becoming painful. I want to run back downstairs, in the safety of my friends, the group, but she’d think I’m even weirder than I already look. I’d be that strange quiet boy who did a runner, that’s how she’d remember me. “Yeah,” I finally reply. “I’m Mitchell.”

  She twitches her nose while twirling a strand of hair with her finger. “Ya kinda already told me that,” she laughs, before playfully biting the tip of her tongue. “What do ya think of Dee? I mean Darcy. Little scatty, ain't she? But bear with her, she knows what she’s talking about. Even if it doesn’t seem it at times.”

  Resting my arms back to the ledge, I lean into them in an attempt to look calm and relaxed, only I’ve misjudged the distance and now bend awkwardly. And with a hardened face, I try to ignore the pain in my back as I try to hold myself steady, not wanting to move and fidget, just in case she notices. “So,” – I clear my throat, again – “you know her well?”

  The sun hits her face as she looks to the sky. “I should hope so. I’ve lived with her for the last three years.”

  “Oh… you’re a couple?” I ask.

  She roars with laughter, shaking her head. “No hun! No. I’m only sixteen, but thanks for making me feel old.”

  Up straight, I mentally hit myself for asking such a stupid question and begin to wonder why I’d even need/want to know.

  Grabbing then rubbing my elbow to stop my hands from flapping around in a panic, I try to recover my question. “No, no. I didn’t mean that. She looks young. You look young, you know? I mean you’re both–”

  “She’s thirty-seven.”

  Never have I truly understood the saying, ‘I wish the world would just swallow me up whole,’ until today. Sweltering under a heat that rushes to my face, rivalling that of the burning sensation I feel when fire shoots from my body, I hide away, concealing my beetroot-coloured skin from her view as I pretend I’ve spotted something over the ledge.

  She continues. “She’s my guardian, took me in about three years ago when I had no one else.” Leaning forward, she tries to make eye contact with me, but I look away in the other direction. “And like, we moved here from London about a year ago.”

  Finally, the heat subsides returning my colour to its normal paleness and I feel safe enough to show my face again.

  She smirks. “Welcome back hun.”

  “Hi,” I mutter.

  “Let me guess, you’re Mitchell?” she jokes, playfully raising an eyebrow.

  “So,” she adds. “Which one are ya?”

  “Which one?”

  “Ya know, Celestial or Daemon?” And without warning, she begins to unbutton the top of her black and white checked shirt, instantly causing my stomach to knot, so I look to the sky while she undresses, or changes, or does whatever it is she’s doing. “Hello? Mitchell?” she calls out.

  Slowly lowering my gaze, I find her stood before me with her collarbone exposed. “I’m Daemon.” She adds.

  The mark is different to Aimee’s. It’s black swirls encased within a circle, resembling that of a flame.

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “How can ya not know?” She asks, pouncing on me in seconds to tug at my t-shirt. “C’mon! Quit holding out on me!”

  Backed up against the wall, I squirm in a bid for freedom from her ice-like hands, but she’s relentless in her attempt to find my marking, and with her body pushed up against mine, I have nowhere further to go. Until she suddenly stops, her face centimetres from mine. “I’ve just noticed your eyes,” she gushes. “They’re beautiful.” And for a moment, she becomes lost in a trance-like state, before snapping out of it into a nervous laugh as she releases her grip.

  “Um, thanks,” I mumble, readjusting my t-shirt.

  Returning to her side of the balcony, she puffs up her hair, making the relaxed curls bounce, exposing two hooped earrings, much like Darcy’s, only silver. And I find myself following her movements, taking in her confidence until she clocks me and I’m forced to pretend I’m looking past her but left wondering why I can’t take my eyes off of her?

  “So, I noticed ya have no mark?” She questions.

  I rub my shoulder where it should be. “No, neither does my brother.”

  “But you both have powers?”

  “Yeah, he can do something with light, like throw it. It’s even strong enough to launch a person, if hit, a great distance… I should know.”

  She narrows her eyes in on me. “And you?”

  “I drew the short straw,” I reply, looking to my hands, the weapons of destruction. “I can create fire and shoot it.”

  “How is that the short straw?” She rebuffs as she takes the only chair on the balcony, leaning into it with her legs stretched out. “It sounds pretty awesome to me. Odd, though.”

  “Odd?”

  “Sounds like ya got a power from either side.”

  “So I’ve been told.” I lean over the balcony, taking a calming breath of the chilled air. “I have the evil power. Classic evil twin syndrome.”

  She sits bolts upright. “Why would ya say that?!”

  I sigh. “You don’t know the feelings I get sometimes, this power, it’s… there’s no good in it.” I want to tell her more, the dreams, the other me, Talia’s warning, even when I lose control and become… evil. For once I feel like I could tell someone, share the burden, but doubts soon begin to invade my mind. What if I was to scare her off?

  Grabbing me by the shoulders, she forces me more central on the balcony. “Stay still.” She orders.

  I don’t question her and do as she requests, standing perfectly still as she looks at me intensely. Even when her eyes turn white I remain still, scared to move, just in case. “What are you doing?” I murmur. But she doesn’t break her gaze, nor does she speak. Her rigid body stands tall like it’s frozen in time, until she blinks, restoring her natural hazel.

  “No evil in ya hun,” she declares.

  I look down at myself, then back to her. “How – how can you tell?”

  “One of my little powers,” she confirms, returning to the chair. “Oh, and ya can move again.”

  Laughing nervously, I allow my body to become more nimble, freeing it of its harden state. “You can tell if someone’s evil or not?” I ask.

  “It’s not that simple,” she smirks. “I can tell a lot about a person; their health, which by the way you’re fine and will be from now on. Perks of being from Mundarium, or partly at least. Then there’s emotion; mainly worry, which I guess would make sense, ya know, with the whole ‘I’m evil’ thing. And with Mundarium beings, I have the added bonus of sensing powers; in your case,
the bad boy flame throwing and your dreaming.”

  “Wait,” I interrupt. “My dreaming?”

  “Well sure, ya know.” She studies my stunned face for a moment, then bites her lip as if she’s just let slip a surprise birthday party. “No…” she adds. “Ya don’t do ya?”

  “No!” I shoot back.

  “You’re a dreamer.”

  “What does that even mean?” I cry, planting my face into my palms.

  “Chill out hun,” she smooths, joining me at the ledge and placing a hand on my shoulder. “It just means ya sometimes view the past, present or future in your dreams.”

  It all begins to replay back to me. The destroyed town, the captive people, the other me. Is this our future, is this my future? Panting for breaths in competition with my racing heart, I try to steady my thoughts, pushing out the bad ones so I can regain my composure, and it works, slightly.

  “Least there ain’t nothing evil about dreaming, right?” she jests, playfully jabbing my side and making me flinch.

  Flashes of memories try their hardest to plague my mind, ones that I’ve never lived, but only dreamt of. Again I push them out and build a mental barrier, now is not the time for this. They should wait in line and bombard me at night, just as I’m about to go to bed, keeping me up – like normal. “Do we all have more than one power?” I ask, simply to take my mind off my dreams.

  “No, hardly any do.” She explains. “Ya could argue that some powers are just a slight variation of another. For example, I’m clairvoyant; I can read people’s aura, which you’ve already seen, and I can locate a person I know, anywhere in the world. Kinda different powers but they both fall into the clairvoyant category, unlike your flame throwing and dreaming, they’re very different and none related in the slightest.”

  My gut churns by the mere mention of my dreams, but I hold myself up, pretending not to notice and keep my focus on her.

  She continues. “And I can also link my vision with people once I’ve located them; view through their eyes, or let them view through mine, another addition to my clairvoyant-location power.”

  “So… you have one power?” I question.

  “Two.” She replies with a grin. “I’ve another that works in the same as your dreaming one, I can’t use it at will, it just happens.”

  “You dream too?”

  “No, no,” she laughs. “Sometimes I just know things, things I shouldn’t and couldn’t possibly know. It’s like other people’s memories play out in my head. They just pop into my head.” She then starts making a popping sound.

  “So don’t be doing anything ya don’t want me finding out about.” She mocks, raising an eyebrow.

  Swallowing hard, I try and recite my past of any embarrassing or shameful moments. There’s way too many to pick from and now she could have access to them all.

  “Hun! Don’t look so worried, it hardly ever happens.” She sniggers.

  Unsure as to whether she’s being truthful or not, I laugh along anyway, albeit nervously. And find myself wondering if this power of hers is more active while in her presence, so I suggest meeting the others, to even the possibly of her tapping into one of their memories instead. “I’m sure they’d like to meet you,” I add.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about the others,” – she winks – “obviously you’re good company.”

  Her compliment is hard to hide from and I find myself smiling, although I’m sure it’s a creepy overbearing smile, as I can’t lower it. Even pushing my cheeks down with my fingers won’t work, so I take another look over the balcony, away from her to mask it.

  “C’mon hun, let’s go already.” She demands, grabbing my hand to lead the way.

  And with my heart pounding in my chest, accompanied by a hot flush to the face, I begin to wonder what’s wrong with me, as I’ve never been like this around anyone before, ever. At least I can be thankful she’s ahead of me and unable to see the mess of a person she’s dragging behind.

  Back in the office, Riley sits alone scrolling through his mobile, probably trying busy himself while Aimee and Darcy flip through the many books and file scattered across the floor. “Welcome back,” Darcy greets. “I see you’ve met Miah Winters, my ward.”

  Dropping my hand to introduce herself, Miah then perches on the floor to join Darcy. “I’ve already read this one,” she says while pointing at me.

  “Already?” questions Darcy. “My, my. You do work fast.”

  My face begins to flush again, so I look in the opposite direction, pretending to read the many different certificates Darcy has displayed on the wall. “We have ourselves a flame throwing dreamer.” Confirms Miah.

  “A dreamer!” beams Darcy.

  “What’s a… dreamer?” asks Aimee.

  Darcy then spends the next ten minutes explaining various different powers, starting with mine and how I’m able to generate and control fire. “In olden times, you’d have been called a fire-bringer.” She confirmed.

  Which led her to Miah’s powers. And once Aimee heard of her ability to read auras, she insisted on being read herself, hoping for an extra hidden power like mine. Only to have her hopes crushed by the confirmation she only has one, levitation. Her sadness is short-lived, though, as Darcy adds that’s all Celestials have heightened senses, strength, agility and endurance, which I guess would be why they’re considered the physical force of Mundarium.

  Leaving the girls to become better acquainted, Darcy pulls up a chair next to me, leaving them to talk about some TV show they’re both into, with a hunky – as they put it – lead character. “A dreamer.” She gushes, bearing her big white teeth.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, unable to take my eyes away from her mouth.

  “That’s a very ancient power you have yourself there. You should feel privileged.”

  Privileged! Ever since this has all started, I’ve just had people tell me how awesome and cool my powers are, and now I’m meant to feel privileged for such an honour. If only they truly knew the burden I have, if they did, they certainly wouldn’t be saying how amazing these powers are. I feel it, the anger deep within me, boiling over and wanting to escape. It takes all my might to seize control of my emotions and slow my heart beat, subduing an outburst.

  “But I can also understand the fear you must be feeling,” she adds with a sympathetic look. “It’s all new, these powers of yours and it opens up a whole new world you never knew existed, but they don’t define you.” She then begins to address the whole room. “Or any of you. Regardless of the preconceptions you may hold towards Celestials and Daemons, just remember it’s the person behind the power that counts.”

  Is it? Although her words speak true to me and I desperately want them to be so, I can’t shake the feeling that my power is destined for evil. Knowing now my dreams can tell the future only adds to that fear. For if my power over dreams is anything to go by, my hometown and maybe even the world is set for a big disaster, and if that’s the case, we’re fighting a losing battle. No amount of training will be able to stop it, as these images are fighting for fruition.

  “Has anyone ever made contact with a Celestial or Daemon? Other than their parents.” Asks Riley.

  “Of course darling,” replies Darcy. “Their parents have unknowingly met and had a child or children” – she points to me – “with someone from Mundarium, but on my travels I’ve never met anyone who’s knowingly came into contact with either a Celestial or Daemon, which would suggest they walk and talk this world just like us.”

  “So, they look like us?” questions a wide-eyed Aimee.

  “I’m guessing so, has your mother, or father, ever spoke of your other parent?”

  Aimee leans back, looking up at the ceiling. “My mum just says she was young and foolish and that he swept her off her feet, but when she fell pregnant with me, she never saw him again.”

  “You said father, how could a man end up with a Half-Breed child from Mundarium, surely the mother would have to be present?” asks Riley.
r />   “It happens,” assures Miah with glazed eyes and sorrow in her voice. “My dad, he raised me and he was the human. He said he met my mum when he was younger and they were happy, he’d always say she was the love of his life, and I think he held on to that, right up until the end. But one day she just vanished with no goodbye, no explanation, nothing. He then found me on his doorstep with a simple note saying I was his, and to forgive her as ‘this was the only way.’”

  “So it would seem that for whatever reason, these beings of Mundarium are unable to stay with their children.” Presumes Darcy, she then looks to Miah. “Even if they so desperately want to.”

  “Mitch!” Riley interrupts. “What about you?”

  “I’m not sure,” I reply, trying to think of a time my mum’s ever mentioned it. “We’ve never really spoken about…”