by Jen Crane
“What’s strange, dear?”
“Well, it’s strange that an omni and a tiger, or an omni and a dragon, for example, can produce children, but a tiger and a hawk, cannot. What is it about an omni that makes it possible?”
“It wasn’t always so,” she said, her eyes lost in the distance of memory.
I sucked in a shocked breath. “What do you mean?”
“Talbot was the one who forbade procreation between species. People were jailed, and worse, for it. He espoused for years the necessity of “proud and pure” lineages. And when that didn’t work, when people continued to love who they loved, he prevented it.”
“Prevented how?” I gasped. “How’s that possible?”
“No one knows, though it’s most certainly magical. Gaspare’s Emelie has worked for many years to reverse it. She’s studied and experimented with both the magical and biological sides. Though she’s still not found the answer.”
“But, I thought interspecies procreation had always been impossible. That’s how it was explained to me.”
“Three thousand years seems an eternity, even to our kind. Talbot removed all historical references to omni creation. And as leader he commanded textbooks be rewritten to reflect this altered, inaccurate history.” She huffed a hopeless breath. “After a while, people forget the truth. Talbot died, and the truth died with him. There aren’t many left as old as I. Not many left to remember. Perhaps there are none. Perhaps I’m the last.”
“I think it’s the diving that keeps you young, Mother.” Gaspare looked so lovingly at Abia my eyes pricked at the corners. It wouldn’t take much with these two to move me to tears.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I still don’t understand why he did it. Why prevent procreation between species? What does that have to do with omnies?”
Abia’s quirked eyebrow indicated I had missed something. “That’s how omnies are made, dear. When two species create another, an omni is born.”
The breath left my body in a rush and my mind worked overtime to file all of the new information. I resolved to talk to Emelie about her efforts, to volunteer to help, if she’d have me.
“Okay, so how did Talbot die? If he’d eliminated all other omnies and prevented the creation of any new ones, who killed him? Was it an omni like in the vision? Who?”
Abia’s eyebrows drew together as she slipped back into the memory. “One day Talbot did come back. Philippe had taken the boys to a small pool to play while I stayed back. I knew the moment he traced outside my hut. Evil seeped through the mudded mortar of the walls. Of course, there were clues in the house of the children’s existence. Of Philippe’s. I raced outside, but Talbot knew I was hiding something. He hit me so hard I fell back into the cooking pit. My skirt caught fire, which I quickly patted out, but flames had also spread to a nearby bush.
“Powerful as he was, Talbot froze. It was then I realized he was deathly afraid of fire. I picked up a branch and held it in front of me. He screamed and raged at me. He was furious. Wild. But he left. And I knew his secret.
“After that scare, I forced Philippe to take the boys away. We made it work. They visited, but lived permanently on Thayer and we worked hard to leave no trace here on Topaz.
“My boys could escape, but I could not. I tried to leave, but it was impossible. Many years passed, and the boys became men. Talbot never came near me, or the island to my knowledge, again. Whether he feared I’d use fire against him, or he thought himself better off leaving me here to die, I don’t know.
“But the wondering, the constant worry, the uncertainty—those things got to Philippe. They got to the boys. They certainly got to me.
“Conditions had gotten worse in Thayer with Talbot as leader. As if murdering potential enemies and their families wasn’t bad enough, paranoia had finally driven him completely insane and he ruled with an iron hand. He withheld resources from his people. Though many tried, there was no one strong enough to defeat him, for there were no known omnies left, and Thayer continued to decline. We—Philippe, the boys, and I—developed a plan to overthrow Talbot, and to kill him.”
“No kidding,” I breathed.
Abia nodded once and went on. “Throughout their childhood, the boys never revealed their heritage. It was assumed they held the form of their father, a tiger.”
“Until, of course, our time at Radix.” Gaspare had been silent for some time, allowing his mother to tell her fantastic tale. “Once we enrolled there, it was near impossible to disguise our nature.”
“Oh, it was possible,” she argued. “You two just thought yourselves invincible. You could’ve ruined everything.”
“But we didn’t. In fact, it’s what saved us.”
“What saved you?” I remembered bits and pieces of a discussion I’d had with Gaspare about his time at The Root with my father.
“Revealing ourselves as omnies is what started—what grounded—our friendship with Rowan Gresham. We could never have defeated Talbot without Rowan’s help.”
“Go on,” I said, anxious for more details of this history. Of Gresham’s history.
“As I told you before, Rowan, Gabrio, and I were inseparable. Our friendship was a rare one. We trusted and loved one another immediately. When Rowan went home for the first time, he asked his father why he’d never met other omnies, why we were the first.
“Of course Talbot was petrified to learn we existed. Rowan pressured his father for the truth, which he was insane enough to reveal. The lies, the murders. Somehow, Rowan Gresham has always had an exceptional heart. A good heart. Disgusted with his father, and keenly aware of Talbot’s mental instability, Rowan joined our side, where he’s stood ever since.”
“Holy. Shit.” This news was the info bomb of all time. “Talbot, the evil ruler who killed all omnies except Abia and his own son, is Gresham’s father?”
“Was. Yes,” Gaspare said heavily. “Talbot Gresham was the purest form of evil. How Rowan emerged from that hell I will never understand.”
“But how did you survive?” I asked, enthralled in the story’s ending. “I assume once Talbot learned about you he came for you.”
“You’re right, he did. But we’d taken protective precautions. Wards for safety, for example. He tried for years to get to us, but we evaded him. Gabrio, Father, and I worked our way through the ranks of politics and power together. And Rowan was right there with us.”
Abia cut back into the conversation. “They gained powerful positions as leaders on the side of good, and were known as the primary opposition to Talbot’s evil reign. Of course, Talbot wouldn’t stand for that and continued to try to take them out.
“As s, the boys were stronger than their father.” Abia’s strong face was suddenly vulnerable. “The boys were more powerful. Resistant to attacks.”
“It came unexpectedly,” Gaspare said. “We had just left a dinner together, Gabrio, Father, and I. We all had the same wards, but what only grazed Gabrio and I, was a critical blow to our father. We rushed him to safety, but it was too late. It was then he made his dying wish that Gabrio defeat Talbot and lead the people of Thayer.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding sadly as I recalled the conversation. “You told me my father had always made it clear he didn’t want the role, but his father insisted he’d make the better leader. You said that was the night my father disappeared.”
Gaspare nodded silently, his gaze cast toward our feet.
“He was wrong,” Abia said. “He was always wrong about that. Gabrio was sharp, and kind and charming, it’s true. But he was too carefree. What Thayer needed then—and now—was strength, skill, brilliance, and a sense of justice. You’ve all those qualities, and more, son.”
Gaspare smiled, only love reaching his eyes, not pride.
“So, it was you.” I said and shook my head in wonder. “The vision foretold was true. An omni did kill Talbot.”
“So it was,” Gaspare snapped. The edges of his mouth grew white from the pressure of teeth biting into th
em. I had the feeling he didn’t like discussing the subject at all.
“Gaspare righted the wrongs done our people for so very long,” Abia said proudly. “He works toward it still. As does his sweet Emelie.”
“Right.” He stood and dusted off his pants. “That’s enough for today. Time to head back to Emelie.”
“But,” I sputtered. “We didn’t even discuss why we came.”
“Oh, she knows why we’re here, Stella. She knows all. The moment you opened your mouth you also opened your mind to her. This is where I learned to read minds. You’ll learn telepathy, too, and much more.”
My gaze shot to Abia, who didn’t look ashamed of her impertinent invasion at all. In fact, she seemed to be daring me to object.
No way was I baiting that bear. “So you agree to teach me?”
“I do,” she said slowly.
My grin was contagious, and her face lit with anticipation, too.
Chapter 16
“You’re doing it wrong,” she said for the fifth time in an hour.
Abia’s sharp tone zapped any tranquilizing effect the soothing ocean waves made. But we weren’t there to relax. We were working. I was learning. Abia had instructed and corrected me mercilessly for nearly a month, and I’d made great strides. Or I thought I had. Abia seemed less than impressed. As with all things magical, my abilities began within my chakra, the window to my soul. I knew this. I was familiar with it. Practiced, even. But I was still a novice, and, I suspected from observing Abia’s frustration day after day, a bit slow.
“I’m sorry,” I said for the fifth time in an hour.
Abia and I had gone over the basics of everything she intended to teach me: telepathy, telekinesis, spell-casting, ward-building and breaking. There were others, I was sure, but my brain was fried. We had worked every day for weeks. I had ingested massive quantities of information, and—I thought—was doing a fair job of putting the knowledge into practice.
“The key to entering another’s mind, Stella, is seduction.”
The talk of chakras and seduction was all too reminiscent of a similar conversation I’d had with Rowan Gresham. He was my first teacher, the one who helped me find my animal forms. He had been someone I trusted very much.
I still felt the sting of his betrayal. The wiser I grew, the more I realized I should never have placed that much trust in Gresham in the first place. It was naive to let myself fall for him. The moment I met Rowan Gresham my internal radar shouted Warning! Danger! And I had heeded my gut feeling. I’d been cautious.
But somewhere over the course of our relationship the line between wary and want had blurred. If I’d been older, I probably wouldn’t have been so surprised to learn he had an ulterior motive to get close to me. If I’d had more experience with men, I might have suspected something like that from the beginning. Instead, I was flattered that a man like him—cultured, powerful, and mysterious—wanted me like I wanted him.
I wondered how Gresham fared after discovering the truth about his wife’s death. I wondered if he still missed her. I wondered if he still missed me, though I knew I shouldn’t.
When I first entered Thayer, I depended on him for nearly everything. I knew nothing and no one else. I was young and stupid and snarky. But I had grown—away from him, into the arms of another. I had grown as a woman, and as a citizen of Thayer. I victoriously found, and then tragically lost, family. I faced unimaginable challenges and fears. And I had conquered them all.
I now faced another set of challenges. The first was growth as a magical being, embracing and mastering my inherited abilities. Due to my unique heritage as the child of an omni father and dragon mother, I had access to greater magical ability than the standard Thayerian. Than the standard dragon, even. But Abia Pike had been alive for more than three thousand years, if I was to believe her tale, and she knew every trick in the book.
“Seduction,” I repeated and huffed a breath. “Got it. May I try again?”
Getting into Abia’s head was difficult. She was intentionally blocking me; I knew that. Attempting to read her mind was like trying to crack an egg without getting shell into the bowl. Was it possible? Certainly. Those who were practiced could do it with ease. But unpracticed, my efforts were jerky and heavy handed. Delicacy was required but I had a giant’s hands.
With eyes closed and mind cleared of any distraction, I sent a probing vine toward Abia’s mind. The imaginary vine twisted and slithered toward her, a light but purposed dance. Her mind was closed shut. It would be impossible to force my way into it, but using her advice I asked, I caressed, I persuaded my way in.
“There you are,” she said, opening her mind to mine. “You did it. Can you see the utility of such a gift?”
“I can. It’s like your mind is my oyster,” I said and felt her pleasure at my reference to diving.
“Clever girl. Let’s see if you can find a pearl. Telepathic talents are all related—speaking wordlessly and mind reading are similar, but not everyone has the gift. And clairvoyance is even more rare.”
“I know a clairvoyant,” I said. “But she calls herself an augur. She helped me. She’s my friend’s mother. I miss them all so much.” Though I wasn’t speaking aloud, my emotions were hard to miss. A tear slid down my cheek, but I swiped it before it could get too far.
“I see that you do. I’m so sorry. I know what it means to lose someone. Everyone.”
Abia and I had more in common than I’d considered, and I suddenly felt like a real turd for whining about my problems when she’d lost her entire family and been sentenced to life alone on an island for…forever.
I cleared my throat and attempted to get in a better headspace. I thought of Bay, who had lost much but recently found happiness in the discovery of old friends. One friend in particular was keeping her very busy. She and Forster were spending a lot of time together, which was fantastic. And adorable. She deserved a little happiness after the loss of Eiven and Stryde.
The passing thought of Stryde took my mind to that particularly awful night of his death, when he’d assumed his dragon form and chased me from Ewan’s party. His thoughts were—
Abia let out a surprised noise.
“What is it?” I’d forgotten she was in my mind too, seeing everything that flashed across it.
“You’ve read a mind before. When you heard Stryde’s thoughts.”
“But. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even try!”
“Fear and desperation are often catalysts for developing abilities,” she said with a laugh.
“I guess so.” I shook my head and pulled back from her brain. Mind reading was hard work.
“Tomorrow we continue ward-making,” she said in a tone that indicated I’d been dismissed. “And Stella?”
“Yes?”
“You did well today. I’m proud of you.”
My smile spread so quickly from one side of my face to the other I had to school it back down from beaming. But I quickly abandoned the effort. I mean, it’s not every day your newly-discovered, super-secret castaway/madwoman grandma pays you a compliment on your hard work as a magical being.
Chapter 17
Gaspare and Emelie’s home had become my favorite place on Pearl Isle. Located just yards from a lush, serene lake, their boathouse held the overflow of Emelie’s eclectic collections. Perusing the knickknacks and finding my own treasures among her bounty had become a favorite pastime.
Three hand-carved canoes hung overhead, primitive and worn. I wondered whose hands had worked so diligently to carve them, and ran my palm along the smooth wood.
I was lost in thought when Gaspare’s voice bounced across the water, alerting me to his presence. Emelie was finishing up inside the house, and I could faintly hear the two speaking. I replaced an art glass wine stop in its home and traced to the patio just outside the dining room.
“Poor kid’s in terrible shape,” I overheard Gaspare say. “Really self-destructive behavior. Hasn’t been sober in weeks, not showing up for
class, and his friends are worried sick.”
I threw my palm against the door frame, leaning toward the door as my body folded in half. I knew who he meant. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Truly. But the damage had been done, and at that moment, propriety was the very last thing on my mind.
I pushed through the patio door into the house. “You’re talking about Ewan, aren’t you?” I looked at Gaspare, whose shocked expression morphed quickly into its usual cool mask. “Oh. My God. My sweet Ewan. He doesn’t deserve this.”
My heart melted within my chest. Melted, and ran down into my guts, which turned and seized at the thought of Ewan’s suffering. Gaspare didn’t answer me; wouldn’t meet my gaze.
I couldn’t contain my anger or repress my heartache when hearing of Ewan’s.
“You’ve done this to him!” I shouted. “All we had to do was get him a message I’m okay. He could deal with a secret. He’s the most trustworthy soul I’ve ever met.”
Gaspare started to argue with me, but held his tongue.
“What?” I snapped.
His eyes closed and he forced a breath through his nostrils. “I’m sorry, Stella. For you. For him. For your friends—everyone. You know I hate this situation. But there’s nothing to be done. It’s the only way.”
“The only way, hell.” I snarled, betraying the petulance I felt. “You could trust me. Trust him. Give us a chance.”
“Give you a chance? And what if you fail? What if, even by accident, either of you revealed our island? It’s not just you who’s at risk, you know. It’s this whole community. Families. People I love.”
His words left me feeling hopeless and empty because I knew they were true.
“Please,” Emelie said and touched both of our arms. “Please, let’s not get into this again. It always ends the same, with you two nursing hard feelings for days afterward.”
Gaspare and I both hmph’ed and crossed our arms. I could see the identical reactions were comical even through my anger. I threw my arms to my side and tried to shake off the grudge, but I feared I never would. Not so long as we continued to disagree on something so vitally important to me. Not so long as he had the power to ease my friends’ pain and wouldn’t use it.
