A Flare Of Power

by Elodie Colt

  Huh, I hadn’t thought about that, and honestly, I didn’t care right now. An especially freaky tree caught my eye.

  “That tree over there looks creepy. See those two branches that look like flailing arms? And the gnarled spots for its eyes? It looks like it’s bending down to grab me,” I said in wonder. I’d never paid so much attention to a tree, but it was fascinating.

  “Huh?” Scott asked and needed a few seconds to turn his head to where I was nodding. He frowned, trying hard to see what I was seeing. “Oh yeah, there! That’s creepy. Shit, you’re stoned, Haylie.” He snickered, and I giggled with him.

  In fact, I couldn’t stop laughing. Scott laughed louder, too, and soon we wriggled on the ground like lunatics. Was this what it felt like to be high? I should consider smoking weed more often.

  When the fit was finally over, it took me three attempts to push myself up into a sitting position again.

  “Wow, you’re… floating,” Scott mumbled lazily, still grinning from ear to ear.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel,” I exclaimed, wiping tears from my cheeks.

  “No joke, honey, you’re floating,” he muttered again, only this time a frown replaced his smile.

  “Jeez, Scott, get a grip,” I snickered, unable to get a grip myself.

  “Jeez…” he imitated me in a funny voice that didn’t sound like me at all, “just look for yourself!”

  I followed the direction Scott was pointing and dropped my head, only to find my butt was indeed floating inches above the ground.

  “Shit, Scott, I think the weed was a bad idea. We’re both hallucinating,” I muttered.

  “I don’t think it’s a hallucination, Haylie,” he said and wiped a hand under me to prove his theory.

  A few seconds of silence passed. Then both our heads snapped up as we gaped at each other in shock.

  “I’m floating,” I muttered in complete astonishment, only now realizing my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

  “Yes, you are,” Scott confirmed unnecessarily.

  Shaking my head to clear my senses, I promptly landed back on the ground with an oomph. “What the fuck is going on? I mean, this can’t be possible, how is that… Hang on,” I mumbled, digging my fingers into the earth just for something to hold on to.

  The high jumps.

  The broken bed in the hospital.

  And now the floating.

  I eyed the muddy earth crumbling in my hand. Lifting my arm, I let the soil trickle through my fingers, watching it rain down, down, down...

  Could it be?

  I slowly lifted my head to look at Scott who was eyeing me expectantly.

  “You found your ability,” he stated, the look of realization apparently visible on my face, and I nodded absently, still unable to utter a word. Scott flashed me a wicked grin. “Haha, told you some weed would work wonders.”

  Satisfied, he leaned back and took the joint from my fingers, taking a long pull.

  Rushing down the tunnels, I crossed the aisles in a hurry and raced up the steps to the upper level. Unbelievable I hadn’t found out sooner!

  Just as I skidded to a halt in front of the main quarters’ glass doors, I froze, hand hovering over the door handle. Biting my lip, I contemplated what to do. I was so relieved I’d finally figured out my ability, I couldn’t wait a second longer to tell Jimmy and the others, but now, doubt started to replace my excitement, my newfound resolve slowly subsiding.

  Dropping my hand from the handle, I stepped back. What should I do? What if the others thought I was a freak? What if they realized I was even more dangerous than they’d thought and wanted me out of the compound? What if I couldn’t learn how to control it? Whom should I trust?

  Scott already knew I’d solved the riddle. He wouldn’t keep it a secret from Jimmy and the rest. Maybe I should wait a few days until I had a better plan in mind for how to proceed. Maybe I should—

  The door swung abruptly outward, and I spun around, startled, only to meet a big barrier. A very nice smelling, broad, and muscled barrier.

  My head lifted slowly to see Dylan frowning at me, stormy, appion eyes burning into mine. I gulped and recoiled, which was my usual reaction when it came to him. From all the people who could have exited the room, it had to be the one I’d wanted to evade at all costs. What would he think now? That I’d snuck around to eavesdrop?

  Dylan closed the door behind him, continuing to scowl at me. “What do you want?” he snapped in his usual cold voice, completely at odds with the comforting words he’d used just a day before to stop me from having a fit.

  “I… um… Well, I…” The words tumbled in my head as I tried not to shy away from his commanding presence. Lying was a weakness of mine and at that moment, when Dylan’s appion eyes pierced me as if he wanted to set my body on fire, I wasn’t able to form a plausible thought.

  I nervously tugged at the bracelets on my wrist. If I told anyone about my ability first, it shouldn’t be Dylan, by all means. Why would he care?

  A memory invaded my mind—Dylan glaring at me with cold eyes, his voice dripping venom, his hand unyielding around my throat, daring me to come near him.

  Dylan sniffed, dipped his head, and strained his eyes to look into mine more closely. “Are you high?” he asked in disbelief.

  Shit, how stupid of me! The shock of my discovery had dampened the effects of the drug, making me forget about it completely. Great. Just fucking great! Now I was a stoned eavesdropper, very mature…

  “I… I’m sorry…” was the only thing my mouth extracted, and I pivoted on my heels in hopes of finding a hole to disappear. What a disaster…

  Just as I made two steps in the other direction, a strong hand clamped around my upper arm, spinning me around.

  “If you want to tell us anything we should know, you should start talking. Now,” Dylan nearly growled, intimidating me to the point my legs started to shake. I tried to shake off his chilly demeanor but without success.

  “I… I don’t think you are the… um… the right person to…”

  “Unfortunately, I’m the only one available right now, so spit it out.”

  He spread his legs and crossed his arms, waiting for my explanation. Why was he so fucking angry? Dylan had never been a pleasant person around me, but it seemed his animosity against me had multiplied overnight. I became used to him being distant, stoic, and steely, but now he seemed to be over the edge.

  But it made perfect sense. The incident in the hospital—he blamed me for my failure. Now I knew the answer to the question how Dylan would react to yesterday’s events. Apparently, not well.

  “You know what? It can wait,” I snapped back, irritated by his hostile demeanor.

  I swear, Dylan Dwight pushed all my buttons. Everything he blamed me for was warranted, but he made my life here harder than it needed to be. He’d volunteered to accompany me last night. How should I stay away from him if he didn’t let me?

  I turned again to leave. It was crazy provoking Dylan like that. If he got his hands on me again, he’d strangle me, and this time, with the right amount of pressure needed to kill me for good.

  “If you think you can—” Dylan started, but I wouldn’t let him finish his sentence. I spun on my heels again, pointing an accusing finger at him.

  “Why did you do it?” My voice came out harsher than intended. I was sure Dylan would explode, but he seemed to be lost on words and threw me a startled look.

  I took a step closer to him. “Why did you volunteer to go with me? You told me to stay away from you, and I did. Why threatening me one day and protecting me the next? It doesn’t make sense!” I shouted, my composure vanishing into thin air.

  I wasn’t the emotional type, by all means, but somehow, all the hate and anger had dammed up to an unbearable level. Now, I was on a roll, and it felt fucking good to let it out.

  Dylan was still struck speechless, either because he didn’t know how to answer, or because he was still stupefied by my sudden outburs
t.

  I dared to take another step forward, nearly poking his chest with my finger. Clearly suicidal.

  “And why did you help me with my dislocated shoulder after my jump over the wall? You didn’t care about the others who were injured. Why helping me?”

  Dylan finally found his voice again, eyes glinting with fury. “I couldn’t—”

  I didn’t hear him out. “You have every right to hate me. Every damn right. I hate myself because of what happened to Ricky, more than you could ever imagine. I can’t even look in the mirror without seeing Ricky or Shawna dying in front of me. I can’t even go to sleep without their faces haunting my dreams every fucking night!”

  Dylan’s open mouth clamped shut, his jaw clenching so hard, I feared his teeth were going to shatter. He threw me a warning look, nostrils flaring, daring me to pick up this precarious topic. But I was sick of all these unspoken words.

  “And do you know what the funniest thing is?” I huffed out a laugh, flailing hands in the air. “Sarah could have saved Ricky. She just didn’t tell us to spare me the blame and your wrath. She could have saved him if she hadn’t used up half of her energy to heal my fucking knee!”

  I watched Dylan fisting his hands to the point where I could hear his knuckles crack. I expected a punch thrown at me any second, one I certainly wouldn’t survive.

  “See? If we put it that way, I was two times the reason Ricky had to die. Sometimes I think fate wants to fuck me hard, letting me live in exchange for the lives of others. I would give my damn, pathetic life for every one of them if I were given a chance, without hesitation. Every one of them!” I screamed, the last sentence echoing in the silent hallway.

  I was panting, my hands itching to smash something. I’d let all my anger out on Dylan. A sheen of unshed tears was clouding my vision, but I refused to let them fall.

  Dylan endured my ranting with a glare so full of malice, I was surprised he was still sane and not lost to the Bluster. With a pounding heart, I braced myself for his wrath to strike me. I wouldn’t go into defense, not this time. If I were allowed to let it all out, then it was only fair to give him his share.

  His gaze swept sideways to something behind me. I turned slowly to see everyone staring at us, open-mouthed. Jimmy, Chris, Sarah, Cassie, Phil, and Josh had all come out to see the source of the commotion.

  Cassie looked at me as if I’d gone mental, but my gaze landed on Sarah. I hadn’t wanted to tattle on her, but as I was to blame for Ricky’s fate, I hoped for Sarah’s forgiveness. Sarah was the only one to keep her gaze down while the others threw me pitiful looks.

  No, I didn’t need their pity. I didn’t deserve their kindness.

  Meanwhile, the familiar tingling feeling in my stomach arose, my vision misting over with a red haze and making me dizzy. Shutting my eyes, I shook my head to avoid losing balance, as I knew would happen. My knees buckled, but a hand under my elbow kept me upright.

  “Easy there.”

  I opened my eyes to see Chris supporting me. His eyes roamed between mine, and I knew he’d seen the Flare flashing in them.

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, twisting out of Chris’ embrace.

  Jimmy approached me with a look of concern. “Haylie, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Maybe not,” I croaked. “But I certainly played a part in their deaths.”

  And with that, I whirled around to escape Dylan’s afflicting glare of condemnation.

  ~~~

  My energy left me. Being a Natural or not, I was exhausted. And the book in front of me, Practical and Effective Self-Defense Techniques—An Ultimate Guide with over five hundred pages, was doing the exact opposite of keeping me awake. Okay, my drug abuse from earlier today was certainly the main reason for my fatigue.

  Granted, I was avoiding sleep. I didn’t want to visit those dreams again, not tonight. My emotional reservoir had already burst.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I’d let it all out on Dylan, the one who lost his younger brother on my behalf. I’d humiliated him in front of his friends and colleagues. How would he react the next time he saw me? How would the others react? Maybe they’d throw me out of the compound. No, Jimmy wouldn’t do that, would he?

  Two soft knocks on my door jerked me out of the distorted, already-half-asleep posture in my chair.

  “Haylie, it’s Chris. Are you still awake?”

  A relieved sigh. Thankfully, not Jimmy or Dylan.

  I stood up to open the door. Chris was leaning with his forearm propped on the doorframe beside his head. His lips hinted at a smile, warming me up from the inside. That boy had a smile like an angel. No, more like the devil and clearly disarming.

  “You look like I’ve thrown you out of bed,” he remarked but not in the least regretful.

  Ugh, I hadn’t thrown a look in the mirror before opening the door. My hair was coming out of the hair clip, and it certainly looked ruffled from my earlier head-propped-on-my-hand position.

  “I was still awake, but Scott’s literature isn’t helping, to be honest,” I replied with a smile and earned another one from Chris.

  His voice became firm as he pushed away from the doorframe and put both hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

  “Can we talk?” His voice was soft, as if he was approaching a scared puppy.

  “Um, sure.”

  I swung the door open wider to let him in. He strode slowly, taking everything in as I closed the door behind him. Chris stopped in front of my bed and inhaled deeply with his eyes closed.

  “Scott loves your scent. I’d like to have his Tracer ability now,” Chris commented.

  Thankfully, he was standing with his back to me, or he would have seen me blushing ten shades of red. Chris was one of those guys who could turn a nice and casual compliment into intimate foreplay, like a feather caressing your skin in the most sensitive way. To be honest, I didn’t know how I felt about that.

  He bent down and took the crossbow propped against the wall. Gripping it, he weighed the weapon in his hands, examining it from different angles.

  “That’s a masterpiece.”

  “Yeah, it surely is.” I walked over to him. “It was my father’s.”

  “Dylan told me you finished a Hunter off with this one.”

  “Um, it was a lucky shot. I hadn’t used the crossbow for a long time.”

  He nodded, somehow lost in thoughts, and plopped down on my bed. I strode over to my desk chair.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about—” I started but was interrupted before I could even sit down.

  “Please, don’t apologize again. You needed to let it out. I know you blame yourself for everything, and it’s impossible to convince you otherwise, but you need to know that Dylan doesn’t hate you because he thinks everything’s your fault.” He shot me an intense look. “It’s because of who you remind him of.”

  “Of Ricky. I know that, Chris,” I answered, scowling at him. Why would he feel the need to remind me of that fateful night Dylan’s brother gave his life in exchange for mine?

  “No. Ha, it’s funny, fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.” He gave a dry laugh and shook his head, brushing one hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “You remind him of two others who were dear to him in their own ways. In short, you are the living connection to three deaths he failed to prevent.”

  I stared at him, perplexed. Could the day get any worse?

  “You’re joking,” I stated, already dreading his denial. He only gave me an apologetic smile, which didn’t make me feel any better.

  “Do you know Dylan was in jail?” Chris suddenly asked out of nowhere, surprising me by the turn in conversation.

  “No,” I admitted but to be honest, I wasn’t surprised.

  Dylan was a perfect badass, ex-lag guy—not like a brutal murderer, but just as lethal. I wondered what kind of crime he’d committed and secretly hoped he didn’t do anything morally questionable.

  “Okay, maybe I should start from the b
eginning…” Chris sighed and propped his head against the wall, ready to jump into his story. “Dylan’s mother died given birth to Ricky. His father never got over it and drowned his misery in alcohol. One night, he got into the car drunk and drove it into a tree. He died, leaving little Dylan, Ricky, and their older brother, Jackson, behind.”

  My hand flew up to my mouth. I had no idea Dylan was burdened with such a horrible past.

  “Jackson took care of his two younger brothers as best as he could, but unfortunately, he died of pneumonia when Dylan was only twelve, and Ricky was still a little child. Dylan’s past made him a difficult teenager—aggressive all the time, violent, and uncontrollable. He and Ricky were transferred from one foster care to another. The last foster family was the worst. The father was a pedophile, and Dylan came into Ricky’s room just in time to… well, you get the picture.”

  Tears started to fog my vision. “Oh my God.”

  “Dylan lost it and beat him unconscious, then he took Ricky and left. They lived on the streets for weeks. Jimmy found them one night sleeping under a bridge with nothing but a jacket to warm them. When Jimmy saw their eyes, he knew what they were and took them under his wing. That’s why Jimmy is like a father to Dylan and one of the few people Dylan truly respects.”

  I wiped a finger under my eyes to catch the tears before they spilled.

  “So,” Chris huffed, continuing with his story. “Dylan was nineteen and already an Intermediate. He and Jimmy found a Natural. Her name was Jenna, and she had the power to control fire.”

  My head snapped up at the sound of the girl’s name. “The one Jimmy told me about when I came here?” And the one who got killed, as far as I remembered, but I kept this thought to myself. The story was already poignant enough for my heavy heart.

  “Yes. Jenna was a lovely girl and quite talented for her age, but she suffered from occasional panic attacks, which were a deadly mixture with the ability she had. She was also very frightened of her power, which is dangerous because fear prevents you from controlling it. Dylan and Jenna grew close. I don’t know if they ever dated, he never told me. Anyway, Dylan was very good at easing her panic attacks, and he taught her how to wield her power.”