by Elodie Colt
“Okay. Good.”
“Haylie, are you coming?” Dylan called out, and I looked over Chris’ shoulder to see Dylan waiting for me in the middle of the hallway.
“You better go. We don’t want to make him angry again, do we?” Chris mocked, and just as he was about to pass me, he gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Was he deliberately trying to provoke Dylan?
When I reached Dylan, he remained silent, but his mouth was set into a grim line. “I just told him not to play games with Lauren,” I explained, in case Dylan suspected anything else.
“You mean like he played games with you?” he asked in annoyance. And within seconds, his mood had shifted from kind and caring to grumpy. We’d made huge progress just a few hours ago, and now we were having another backlash? Again?
“Chris didn’t play me. He just…” I grabbed Dylan’s arm, and he stopped to face me. I didn’t want the subject to cause a commotion again. “There’s nothing going on between us. It was one kiss, nothing more, and it won’t happen again. I don’t have any feelings for him. He’s just a good friend.”
Dylan lifted an eyebrow in questioning, but some of the tension left his body, as if my words were what he needed to hear. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know. I just felt the need to clear it up.” I bit my lower lip and saw Dylan following the movement, his eyes emanating a sudden longing, as if he was desperate to taste the lip I was torturing with his own. “Okay, I’ll go change for training,” I babbled before my over imaginative mind could continue to spin a web of dirty fantasies and took off.
~~~
I quickly put on my training gear and grabbed some bobby pins to tame my hair. The braid I used to wear tended to be in my way during fighting, so I tried my best to twist my mass of hair up. As I was not part of the ‘formal’ classes anymore, I figured there was no need to follow the no-metal-and-jewels rule further. Swirling some strands between my fingers, I fixated them with the pins at the back of my head. It was a messy hair style, but at least it would keep my hair out of the way. When I met Dylan outside, he gave me a quizzical look.
“What?” I asked, curious.
“Your hair. It’s different,” he commented.
“Yeah, I figured I needed something more practical.”
“How is it you never wear it down?” he asked when we made our way to the training room. I didn’t respond immediately as I tried to think of how to answer. Dylan threw me a sideways glance. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Um, no. Shawna loved to play with my hair. She used to brush it before we went to sleep, and she could stay busy for hours creating the craziest hairdos. She made me promise never to cut it, although I always wanted to because it got on my nerves. After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, but I also couldn’t wear it down anymore because I was always reminded… So, what do you think of Cassie?” I changed the subject directing it to safer ground. “Did she seem different to you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I have no idea what she’s been up to the entire time. I’ll have a talk with her.”
Dylan switched on the lights in the training room. It was funny how familiar I already was with the musky scent and the sound our footsteps made echoing off the walls. It was my second home, next to my room.
“Okay, let’s start,” he announced when he turned to face me. “Today I’ll charge you, and you’re going to go on the defensive. No attacking. If I get a hold of you, you’ll think of ways to get out, understand?”
I nodded and positioned my fists at chest level, ready for Dylan’s attacks. At first, he went slowly, giving me time to move out of his attack line. After I warmed up, he came at me faster, making it impossible to dodge all his punches and kicks. He never struck me, of course, and would back away before connecting with my body. Every time he could get a hold of me, he barked at me to think of moves that would get me out of his grip.
Sweat was pouring down my face while Dylan didn’t appear to be the least bit exhausted. Damn Fighters. I prepared myself for his next strike when he advanced on me, and I managed to block a high strike at the last second. His next punch would connect with a soft spot in my stomach, and I sidestepped, only to lose my footing when he swung his leg at my ankle. Dylan took the chance to snake his arm around my neck from behind, leaving me struggling in his chokehold. Fear suddenly bubbled up inside me, memories of the previous night invading my mind.
I lost all sense of rational thinking, grabbing at Dylan’s arm frantically. My breathing hitched, and I panicked.
“No!” I cried out in horror, and Dylan dropped me immediately. I stumbled forward, nearly falling to my knees as I panted heavily.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked in alarm and was by my side in an instant.
“Nothing,” I muttered, trying to catch my breath and calm down.
“You panicked. Why?” He grabbed me by the shoulders to steady me and forced me to look at him.
“I remembered the Fighter I killed yesterday. I don’t know how I did it, I just wanted to get rid of him and jumped. I had no idea it would work, but we suddenly crashed into the wall and he… he got stabbed by that stupid hook. I felt it piercing his chest at my back, and I heard his bloody chokes near my ear, and I…”
“Hey!” Dylan shook me to stop my panicked babbling. “Calm down. You did what you had to do. You didn’t know there was a hook.”
Twisting out of his grip to gain some distance, I started pacing around the room. “I didn’t want that to happen.”
“I know,” Dylan said with empathy, his voice gentler now. “But they won’t hesitate to kill you or anybody else, no matter what. You should keep that in mind.”
“I’m not a killer, Dylan, and I don’t want them to make me one,” I confessed in exasperation. “And I can’t forget how it felt to be in the Bluster. I can’t go out there fighting, being constantly afraid of the rage that could consume me and hurting people I want to protect. Is there no way to control it?”
Dylan heaved a deep sigh. “That depends on the individual and the ability. The Bluster of Regenerators is rather harmless. We assume their ability to heal prevents negative emotions from spilling over too much. For Fighters, it’s nearly impossible to get a hold as their testosterone and adrenaline levels are higher than the average. I can’t say for sure how it’s working for Naturals, but taking their powerful abilities into account, I’d say it isn’t any easier for them.” I hung my head in defeat. “What did you feel when you were in the Bluster?” Dylan wanted to know.
I looked at him with a frown. “Rage, of course.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, how did you take in your surroundings? Were you able to distinguish between friend and foe?”
“I don’t know. I had this feeling in the back of my mind that there were people I shouldn’t harm, but it was hard to form a coherent thought. And then my power took over, and although I wanted to switch it off, I couldn’t.”
“I saw you flinching when Lauren called out for you. You recognized her.”
“Yeah, I remember, but it wasn’t enough.”
“You don’t have any experience in working with your ability. You won’t be able to control the Bluster if you can’t control your power in general.” He gave me an intense gaze, as if searching for something in my eyes, and I saw the exact moment he made his decision. “Let’s start training with your ability.”
I raised a brow in question. “Are you kidding? I can’t control it. Every day I’m sitting in Lisa’s room and doing nothing except ‘reaching’ for it. She never lets me do anything else, and I guess she has a good reason to.”
Dylan crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Usually, the students train for years until they’re allowed to go on their first mission. You’ve been here for a couple of weeks and already fight at the front. Why? Because you are prey. If you want to learn how to wield your ability, we need to skip some steps.”
I eyed him warily. This was certainly not what
Jimmy had in mind when allowing Dylan to train me personally. “And what do you expect me to do?”
He backed away and spread his legs. “Charge me while activating your ability.”
I huffed a laugh. “First, I usually can’t activate it on purpose. Most of the time, it just happens. And second… are you out of your freaking mind? I could crumble you to pieces!”
“That won’t happen,” he assured me, not in the least bit worried.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m a Fighter, Haylie, and one of the best, I might add. I can endure much more than the average.”
“The guy from yesterday was a Fighter, too.”
“Yes, and I’m sure he would have fought back if he hadn’t been stabbed to death.” I winced, but he ignored it. “Haylie, the reason you’re training with Lisa is to learn how to be in harmony with your ability. You must not fear it, you need to let it in. As long as you’re fighting it, you won’t be able to control it. You need to practice, and the sooner you start, the better.”
He was right, of course. I couldn’t expect to wield it in battle if I never practiced how to use it. I was just afraid to hurt Dylan.
“Okay, what do you want me to do?”
“Charge me and combine your tackle with your ability. Let’s see if you can take me off my feet.”
I frowned. There was no doubt I could tackle him to the floor, assuming I could activate my power, that was. However, I was more afraid of what would happen if that occurred.
“This is crazy,” I muttered but took my stance, nonetheless.
“I’m sure you won’t be able to do it on the first shot. Take it slowly and keep in mind what you learned in Lisa’s lessons. Reach for it and keep a hold.” Yeah, it sounded easy. “Take your time. There’s no need to rush.” I nodded again, although it was more for my own assurance rather than an expression of agreement.
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I recalled Lisa’s instructions and reached inside to the center of my ability. Catching it was easier now, and the nauseating sensations had ebbed off over the last few training lessons.
As soon as I had a firm grip on the golden vortex hovering inside me, I opened my eyes, only to be faced with another problem. I needed to focus on two things at the same time, in this case, my ability and attacking Dylan. How the hell had I done it the few times I’d managed to fight with my power?
“Yes, that’s good. Don’t let go,” Dylan encouraged me after spotting the Flare in my eyes, indicating the activation of my ability.
I took some careful steps forward, afraid to lose the connection as my head started to spin like crazy. Stopping abruptly, I tried to regain control over my body. Damn, it had been a lot easier while sitting in Lisa’s room on the floor with my focus solely on one thing.
I stumbled a little when the golden substance in my stomach started to move up and down, and like the current of waves from water, I rocked slightly with it. I didn’t know what was happening, but Dylan seemed to have the answer.
“Take it slowly. Your ability takes hold of your body, and I guess gravity is switching on and off. Try to gain control to keep balance.”
Huh, now that he was saying it, it made perfect sense. It felt as if I were getting heavier and then lighter with each rocking motion. After another wave of uncontrolled gravity switches, a crack echoed off the walls, and I felt the concrete splitting underneath my shoes.
The hard thing was to distinguish between two different powers—the gravitational pull downward and upward. I had yet to discover how to handle them differently, but apparently, I always activated the right direction when I needed it.
The next challenge was controlling it in my body versus directing it at a target. Last night, when I’d spiked the Fighter behind me, I’d transferred the pull upward to him. This way, I’d been able to fling him back despite his mass and weight. It was amazing how hard it was to control the different aspects of my power willingly without the addition of rage or any other emotionally unstable state.
My teeth clenched in concentration, and I flailed my arms to keep upright. I concentrated harder on the airy substance inside me and slowly, the motions became steadier. After a few seconds of testing my stability, I stepped forward. I must have looked like an acrobat balancing on a rope, but Dylan patiently waited, watching my progress.
“How do you expect me to run at you, let alone tackle you in this state?” I asked peevishly. No way was I able to turn into fighting mode now.
“Try to lead your power to certain parts of your body. As a Fighter, I move the power inside me to the arms when punching and to the legs when kicking. Maybe it’s the same with yours.” I nodded briefly, although I had no idea how to put it into practice.
With as much focus as I could muster, I started pulling on the substance. At first, only a thin golden thread followed my order and moved higher, snaking up my torso. I managed to level it with my heart, but as soon as I exhaled, it snapped back to its original place. Thankfully, my stomach stayed calm this time.
“This could take a while,” I grumbled.
“Take all the time you need.”
I started the task again, this time stretching the thread up to my collarbone. The farther up I wanted it to go, the more difficult it became like straining a ribbon to its limit. Afraid of tearing the cord in two, I released it again.
I didn’t make much progress the third and fourth time, but I managed to pull the cord to my shoulder on the next try. It seemed the substance got more flexible the more I played with it, like sinews in the human body stretching farther with more training.
“Are you still with me?” Dylan’s voice penetrated my focus.
“Yeah, I’m almost there, I can feel it.”
I tugged again, and the substance gave way easier. I stretched it up over my chest to my right shoulder and down to my elbow until it finally reached my wrist. Flexing my fingers, I felt the power tingling there. I didn’t know if the single cord was enough to give me the needed strength, so I reached into the center again, gathering more substance to add to the cord already in place. After endless tries, I finally managed to collect more substance in my hand, and the threads automatically twisted together like a rope, strengthening its stability.
But I wouldn’t cry out for joy, as what happened next put me off guard. Literally.
The gravitational pull intensified so fast, my hand smacked down as if having a heavy sack of sand attached. Thankfully, my flexible limbs gave way, and it was only my upper body following suit.
My hand connected with the ground, and I didn’t even have time to form a fist, which was a good thing, as I would have certainly broken my knuckles. With a loud crack, I punched a hand-shaped dent in the ground.
I cried out in surprise, and the loud “Whoa!” from opposite me was a sign that Dylan hadn’t expected my Hulk-move either. It would have probably looked cool if I weren’t stuck in this awkward position where my feet stayed on the ground, barely a few inches apart, and my torso was down, arms outstretched, my upper body forming a perfect U-shape. Huh, I would make a yoga trainer proud of that pose. Right now, I was grateful Dylan wasn’t standing behind me.
I freed the golden substance centered in my hand. This time, I didn’t let it snap back into place like before, as this would have certainly caused a nausea my belly wouldn’t have survived, so I eased it back slowly. As soon as the substance retreated past my elbow, I was able to move my hand and lift it from the ground.
When I was upright again, wiping crumbs of debris from my hand, I lifted my head to look at Dylan who was staring open-mouthed at the dent in the floor.
“Well, I guess this was a tad too much,” I muttered.
“A tad…” Dylan agreed sarcastically.
“Still want me to tackle you?” I mocked, but instead of rejection, a creepy smile crept over his face.
“Finally, a challenge,” he exclaimed, and I huffed in disbelief. Was this man afraid of nothing? “You worry too m
uch. Just do it, I’ll survive,” Dylan said, taking his defensive stance again.
I thought about my broken ribs when we landed in the pool. Dylan had been injured—I’d felt his back connect with the pool’s bottom—but hadn’t even sported a bruise when presenting his naked back to me today, except for the cut on his neck. Fighters were naturally more robust. Well, I hoped he was strong enough to take what I had in store for him.
Having a better feeling now on how to handle my power, I debated about how to perform the tackle. I decided to pull my power to the center of my chest, which should give me the needed strength in my upper body. Not as much substance as before, maybe just three or four cords for starters.
As soon as the substance was positioned where I wanted it to be, I asked Dylan one last time, “Are you sure about this?”
“Just do it,” he repeated, and I didn’t hesitate this time.
Bolting forward, I braced myself for the impact. I tackled Dylan with enough force to knock a normal person over, but other than tumbling a few steps back, Dylan stayed on his feet. He steadied me with his hands on my shoulders.
“That was your power coming through. Try again,” he ordered, and I returned to my spot.
We repeated the same move three more times. Each time, I added more threads to the center of my chest, and each time, it was harder for Dylan to keep upright.
After my fifth tackle, I fought the urge to rub my shoulder as I felt a bruise building there but refrained from showing my weakness in front of my relentless trainer. On the next try, I extended some of the threads from my chest to my shoulders, hoping to enhance the force of my tackle.
“Go!” Dylan shouted, and I sprinted forward.
Finally, I connected with Dylan’s hard chest with enough force to knock him over. The gravitational pull followed immediately, and we both went to the ground with me on top.
Dylan didn’t waste a second and snaked his arms securely around me, but it was not joy overcoming me for managing the task, it was fear for Dylan. If I landed on top of him with gravity still switched on, he could seriously hurt his spine. However, it was too late to withdraw as I still needed too long to maneuver the power within me.
