by X, Alice
“It’s not a cell,” Thomas interjected calmly. “It’s a holding room.”
Ava let out a noisy sigh of frustration. “You know what they say. One person’s holding room is another person’s prison cell.”
“There’s no need for dramatics,” Thomas said with an amused look on his face. That look of amusement irritated Ava as much as anything else.
“Am I meant to be a source of amusement to you?”
“Not as a rule,” Thomas replied. “I just got lucky this time.”
“This time?” Ava said as her pace slowed. “So, I’m not your first prisoner?”
“Detainee,” Thomas corrected. “And, no, you’re not.”
“How many have there been before me?”
“A handful,” Thomas replied shortly.
Ava sat down on her bed opposite Thomas. His eyes were shadowed. Ava wondered if she could trust him to give her honest answers. She hated that she had to resort to talking to him, but after so long within the witch hunter’s camp, conversation was the only thing that diverted her attention.
“And you never feel guilty afterwards?”
“Why should I?” Thomas asked. “Hard as this might be for you to believe, none of them have been harmed. After the process is complete, they’re kept here for observation for two days or so, and then they go back to their lives.”
“You don’t have a right to play God,” Ava said through gritted teeth.
Thomas shrugged. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
Ava pushed herself farther back on the bed and leaned against the wall. “Don’t you think this should be a choice left up to each individual telekinetic?”
Thomas turned his head to the side. The silver of his crescent moon scar seemed to burn a little brighter. “Many of your kind have made the right choice willingly.”
“And, what about those of my kind who have made the wrong choice in your opinion?” Ava continued. “Do you really think it’s right to force your decision on them?”
Thomas sighed. “It’s not a pleasant experience … to force someone to do something they don’t want to do,” he said, his voice was pregnant with emotion. “But sometimes difficult choices have to be made. It’s the only alternative left to us.”
“There is another alternative,” Ava pointed out.
“Which is what?”
“We can co-exist,” Ava said. “We can choose to live together in peace and respect each other’s differences.”
Thomas laughed. “I didn’t expect naiveté from you.”
“It’s not naïve,” Ava retorted. “It’s practicality. Some would even argue its common sense.”
“Those people live in a different world.”
Ava fell silent. A few weeks ago, her own world had been so different from where she found herself now. There were moments when it felt like another lifetime. She missed her parents, but it was her brother she thought of the most. Thinking of Harry sent little stabs of pain through her heart. It would be different if she knew where he was and that he was safe, but not knowing kept her in a constant state of anxiety.
“He’s human,” Thomas said, distracting her from her thoughts. “We have no reason to hold him.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking of your brother,” Thomas said with complete certainty. “I’m telling you that you have no reason to worry about his safety.”
Ava wrinkled her eyebrows together. “How do you know what I was thinking about?”
Thomas smiled at her suspicion. “I’m perceptive.”
Ava continued to glare at him until Thomas shrugged. “You have a very specific expression when you think about your brother. It gives you away every time.”
“I didn’t realize I was so predictable.”
“Not at first,” Thomas said.
Ava looked down, hating that he seemed to know her so well. She felt almost as though it were a violation of her privacy.
“You love him very much, don’t you?” Thomas asked quietly, his voice taking a different tone.
Ava pictured Harry’s rounded face and his big brown eyes. “More than anything in this world.”
Thomas nodded as though he understood.
“Do you have siblings?” Ava asked.
“I… I used to have a brother,” Thomas replied. “His name was Patrick.”
“He died?”
“When he was ten,” Thomas nodded.
“What happened?”
Thomas didn’t answer her. He just turned his face to the side and stared at the wall. Ava let the question lie. He was entitled to his stories, just as she was entitled to her own. They sat together in the muted light of her holding room thinking about the people they had lost. Ava was shocked to notice that a strange camaraderie had crept in between them. It was almost comfortable, and the realization scared her.
Just then, the door opened and in walked a tall man dressed like a soldier. His arms were huge and his chest was broad and jutted out fiercely. Ava spied the thin glass bottle in his hand. She could almost smell the acidic saltiness of the blue serum inside it. Her stomach recoiled at the memory of it, and she cringed unconsciously.
“Collins?” Thomas said standing up. “What is it?”
“The system says that this subject has only had one dose of the serum,” he said in a deep, clear voice. “She was due for her second dose three days ago.”
“She’s refusing to drink it,” Thomas said.
Collins raised his eyebrows in clear disbelief. “Then make her.”
Ava saw Thomas’s jaw set in a tight square. “I’m working on it,” he replied coldly. “You can step out soldier.”
The smirk on Collins’s face changed immediately. “I’ll step out when I’m ready, boy.”
Ava was impressed that Thomas stood his ground. He was just as tall as Collins, but he was lean and wiry where Collins was muscular and clearly had the weight advantage. Still, Thomas refused to back down. He took a step closer so that their faces were only inches apart.
“Give me the serum and get out,” Thomas said, enunciating the last two words.
Collins didn’t blink. “You’re just a pampered whelp, and the only reason I’m going to walk away now is because of who your father is. He is the only reason you are somebody here.”
Collins rammed the serum against Thomas’s chest. Thomas took it without comment and watched silently as he walked out, slamming the door behind him. Ava saw that Thomas was trying to act as though Collins’s words had not impacted him, but she saw a blue vein on his forehead that said otherwise. It comforted her that she could read him just as well as he could read her.
“He was pleasant,” Ava said sarcastically breaking the tension in the room.
Thomas fell back into his seat without a word. Ava could still see the vein on his forehead. “Touched a nerve, did he?” she asked recklessly.
She saw Thomas’s jaw tighten. He was still clutching the serum in his left hand.
“So, apparently your father’s someone important?” Ava said conversationally. “Please don’t tell me he’s Griggs though. Because then I might have to kill you.”
“He’s not,” Thomas replied sharply.
“That’s good,” Ava said. “Saves me a lot of trouble.”
Thomas ran his fingers through his hair.
“Who is your father?” Ava pressed. “Just out of curiosity.”
Thomas sighed. “Frederick Madden.”
“Whoa,” Ava exclaimed. “Griggs’s right-hand man. And I was starting to like you.”
“Well, you’d be the first.”
Ava raised her eyebrows. “Not very popular, are we?”
“Nobody likes nepotism,” Thomas said flatly.
“Imagine that,” Ava said. “The hunters have principles.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Thomas said bitterly. He seemed to realize what he had just said in the same breath, and his expression went dark. He sat there for a few moments and then rose to his feet, clut
ching the serum tightly.
“I’m not taking that again,” Ava said fiercely.
Thomas looked her dead in the eye. For a moment she thought he was going to force her to drink it, but she blinked and his expression had changed again. He turned his back on her and walked out of the room leaving her in a state of shocked relief.
Eight Weeks Ago
Ava was on the way up to her room when the doorbell rang. She came back downstairs and opened the door to find Victoria and Gordon standing there with bright smiles on their faces.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne,” Ava said politely. “You’re early.”
“Not inconveniently early I hope,” Gordon Wayne said.
“Not at all,” Ava replied. “Come in.”
She showed them into the living room and went to the kitchen. “The neighbors are here,” Ava informed her mother.
Lillian’s face was blocked by the open door of the fridge. “They’re early.”
“That’s what I said,” Ava replied. “Anyway, I’m going up.”
“Why don’t you just join us for dinner?” her mother asked, spooning roast potatoes into a bowl.
“Umm, because I like Victoria and Gordon, but from a distance.”
Lillian threw Ava a look. “Don’t be cruel. They’re very nice people.”
“Nice. Boring. That’s a matter of opinion,” Ava gave her mother a wink. “I think Harry and I will just take our dinner upstairs, so we can play video games while we eat.”
“Alright, alright,” Lillian said in defeat. “Go on then.”
Ava found Harry sprawled across her bed when she walked in. He was lying diagonally on his stomach reading a book that Ava had taken pains to hide from the rest of her family. “Hey,” she said grabbing it from between his hands. “I thought I told you not to snoop through my drawers.”
Harry smiled at her unapologetically. “You were being cagey yesterday. I wanted to know why.”
Ava sighed and sat down on the bed next to him. She looked down at the plain black cover of the book. Its title stared her dead in the face. “I guess I just wanted a little more information.”
“Did you find it?” Harry asked with interest.
“Nothing I didn’t already know,” Ava replied with a sigh.
“Why did you get this book?” Harry asked curiously.
“I guess I just wanted to know what the world really thought about us,” Ava admitted. “Jacob Solloway is a good journalist, and he interviewed a huge number of people to write this book, some of whom are witches. I guess I was hoping for a less biased viewpoint.”
“And?”
“It’s just a bunch of different people with their own opinions,” Ava said. “Some of whom are sympathetic, but mostly they’re just misinformed and scared.”
“You mean they believe Joseph Griggs?”
“Yes.”
“Dad will throw a fit if he sees that book,” Harry pointed out.
“I don’t see why,” Ava said. “‘The Witch Crisis’ is probably on every book shelf in every home in this country. It’s not exactly suspicious to have it lying around.”
“Then why are you hiding it?” Harry asked shrewdly.
“Cause Dad will throw a fit if he sees it,” Ava repeated her brother’s words making Harry laugh. “I’m going into campus tomorrow. I’ll return it then.”
“I know when people use the word ‘witch’ they mean it in a bad way, but I quite like the term ‘witch’,” Harry said. “It sounds both cool and dangerous.”
Ava laughed. “I think that may be the problem.”
Harry brushed away her words. “I think people are just freaking out because they’re jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah,” Harry said with conviction. “They wish they had powers of their own. They wish they were that cool. That’s where all this animosity comes from.”
Ava laughed again and kissed the top of Harry’s head. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better. It was while they were sitting together playing video games that Ava realized he had actually succeeded.
Chapter 3
“So about yesterday….” Thomas started seeming almost embarrassed.
Ava held up her hands to stop him. “We all have bad days.”
Thomas sank into his chair and smiled. “Thanks.”
“And thank you ... for not forcing the serum on me,” Ava said throwing caution to the winds. She knew there was a strong chance that it still could happen. She was hoping that building a rapport with Thomas might help her in the long run.
Thomas hesitated for a moment. “I’m under orders to make sure you take your second dose.”
“By when?”
“By yesterday,” Thomas replied seriously.
“I see,” Ava said. “And who do these orders come from?”
“From my father,” he replied with a slight inflection in his tone. Ava might not have caught it had she not become so familiar with Thomas in the last few weeks. She was finding it easier and easier to read him.
“Ah,” Ava said casually as though his orders had no connection to her. “And are you planning to follow them?”
Thomas fished out the thin vial with the powder blue serum swimming inside it. He looked at the vial and then at Ava. “No,” he said with finality.
“Really?”
“Don’t ask me why,” Thomas said quickly. “I’m not entirely sure myself.”
Ava suppressed a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said softly. After a long silence, Ava couldn’t hold in her question any longer. “What will you do when they ask?”
“I’ll tell them that I convinced you to drink it,” Thomas said confidently.
Ava raised her eyebrows. “And they’ll believe that?”
“I… have a way with people,” Thomas replied seriously.
Ava hated that she believed him right away, but it was an easy truth to believe. Thomas had a certain charisma about him. It was subtle and understated, but disarming. It was in the slow way he smiled; it was in the confident way he moved; and it was in the quiet way he spoke. These traits were purposeful. His looks were simply a distraction.
“How’d you get your scar?” Ava asked suddenly, trying to distract herself from the sudden desire to touch him.
“My brother and I were playing paintball,” Thomas replied. “He was aiming at my chest, but he got my face instead.”
“Whoa.”
“An inch or two higher and I would have lost my eye.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve,” Thomas replied. “We were… practicing.”
Ava knew from his tone what he meant. “Were you the witch or the witch hunter?” she asked without inflection.
“The witch,” Thomas replied. “You know what’s ironic? I didn’t speak to him for weeks after. A couple of months later he died, and then I couldn’t speak to him no matter how badly I wanted to.”
Ava thought about Harry. The thought of never seeing or speaking to him again made her feel as though she was drowning. “What was he like?” Ava asked.
“He was ten,” Thomas said, his eyes far away. “He wasn’t interested in being his own person. He was only interested in being … me. He used to follow me around and copy everything I did. It used to drive me crazy.”
“Sounds pretty typical,” Ava pointed out. “He loved you and admired you, so he wanted to be you.”
Thomas shrugged. “It wasn’t worth the effort.”
“I don’t think he would have seen it that way.”
Thomas was quiet for a long time. “You asked me what he was like,” he said finally. “The truth is, I don’t know. I never really bothered to find out.”
“How did he die?” Ava asked tentatively, aware that she was asking the question for a second time.
Thomas turned to her; his blue eyes looked like they were on fire. “He was killed. By a witch.”
He was telling her because he was starting to trust her, Ava did not miss the g
esture. Warmth spread through her body making her feel lighter than she had in weeks. She marvelled at the absurdity of the situation. A month ago she would have thought it impossible that she could sit across from a witch hunter and feel affection for him.
“Were you with him when he died?” Ava asked.
“No. I found out later. I didn’t even see his body.”
“Was that your choice?”
“It was,” Thomas nodded. “But sometimes I wish I’d chosen differently.”
“Why?”
Thomas shrugged heavily. “Because it might have kept his ghost at bay. I still dream about Patrick and his empty coffin.”
Ava felt her body grow cold as she remembered the dream she had experienced only a few nights ago. She had fallen into an exhausted and disturbed sleep that had fed her nightmares. She had seen things that she couldn’t forget even in consciousness.
“I dreamt about my brother a few nights ago,” Ava said suddenly, before her mind had really even made the decision to speak.
She looked up tentatively, and saw that Thomas was looking at her with hooded eyes. They were pensive and empathetic. “What was the dream about?” he asked softly as though he already knew.
“He was standing a short distance away from me,” Ava described the scene as she remembered it. “But there was a wall separating us. When I reached out to him, he moved farther away, and the wall started growing. After a while, I couldn’t even see Harry anymore. He disappeared behind the brick, and I was left standing there, completely alone. Finally, I managed to get the wall down, but I was too late.”
“He was dead?” Thomas asked in a hushed voice.
“He was dead,” Ava confirmed. “His face was blue and his lips were pale. He looked like my brother, and at the same time, he didn’t.”
Ava blinked and she felt a drop of moisture slip down her cheek. She was about to brush the tear away when someone else did first. She looked up startled to see Thomas only inches away, his hand extended towards her. She could feel the tips of his fingers against her skin, and they were warm and sure.
Ava stared at him, unable to comprehend his alien action. He seemed to be working through some shock of his own, because he stayed where he was, still as a statue, with his hand still extended and his eyes unblinking.
