The MORE Trilogy

by T. M. Franklin

  “I can’t believe it.” Tiernan braced his hands on his knees as he breathed heavily. “I just can’t believe it. What happened?”

  Caleb watched in amusement as Ava did a little victory lap around Tiernan before shoving at his shoulder.

  “Emma lifted my block. I’m a hundred percent Race now. Want to wrestle?” she challenged.

  “Shut up.” He glared at her. “I can’t believe you let her tamper with your brain. Not that there’s much to tamper with.”

  “Oh, now, don’t be a poor sport,” she said.

  “Then don’t gloat,” he snapped. “It’s not pretty.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Caleb thinks I’m pretty.” Ava ran over to Caleb and jumped into his arms with a whoop.

  He swept her around in a circle, laughing against her mouth as she kissed him soundly.

  “I’m strong,” she said breathlessly when he finally set her down. “Like, really strong.”

  “I noticed.” Her excitement was infectious, and soon, even Tiernan was shaking his head and smiling.

  “Come on,” Ava said, grabbing Caleb’s hand and dragging him to the edge of the grass.

  “What are we doing?”

  She stopped when they got to the track circling the field, taking his coffee cup and tossing it into the trash. “We’re going to race.” She stood, elbows bent and legs braced in a starting position. “I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m fast, too.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Caleb shrugged off his coat and moved next to her on the track. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “Oh, it is,” she said with a grin. She tilted her head, studying him for a moment, then shouted across the grass. “Hey, Adam. Don’t let him shift, okay?”

  Adam waved a hand in acknowledgment, never looking up from whatever had his attention on his cell phone.

  “After all we’ve been through, you don’t trust me?” Caleb asked in mock outrage.

  “Just taking precautions,” she said with a laugh. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  With a shouted Go! they took off around the track.

  As it turned out, Ava was right. She was fast.

  She was very fast.

  Ava felt like she was flying. Running around the track with Caleb at her heels—falling farther and farther behind her, she might add—the wind whipping through her hair as her shoes slapped on the hard ground felt wonderful. She couldn’t hold in a thrilled giggle. It was exhilarating. Even more than shifting with Caleb because it was all her. Her muscles flexing. Her arms pumping. Her body moving at impossible speeds.

  Not so impossible anymore, thanks to Emma.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, Emma appeared at the gate, along with Audrey.

  Ava slowed to a trot then stopped before the two of them, barely breathing heavily. “Did you see?” she asked Emma. “It worked. You freed up everything!”

  Emma’s grin matched her own. “Well, we did,” she said.

  With a joyous laugh, Ava pulled the girl into a tight hug, the two of them bouncing in excitement.

  “Thank you,” Ava said.

  “It was the least I could do, after . . . everything,” she said, glancing at Caleb as he joined them.

  “I was going to offer to help,” Audrey said with a grin, “but it looks like you hardly need it.”

  “You think there’s more?” Ava asked, tingling with excitement. “I feel like there’s more.”

  “You won’t know until you try.”

  There was more. Much more. She still couldn’t shift. Her compulsion skills, although slightly improved, were nowhere near as strong as Caleb’s, let alone Emma’s. But as they sat cross-legged in a circle on the grass, Ava uncovered yet another pleasant surprise. They were taking a break, and Tiernan and Adam were talking near the gate before the dampener left the area, no longer needed.

  Ava was hungry and tired, and she rubbed her temples as the beginnings of a headache throbbed through her skull. Her stomach rumbled, and she flopped back on the grass, closing her eyes to the warmth of the sunlight on her skin.

  “My mom makes the best fried chicken,” she mumbled distractedly. “It’s so crispy and juicy and incredible. I’d smell it cooking and my mouth would just water. What I wouldn’t give for a piece of it right now.” She inhaled deeply. “I can almost smell it.”

  “Umm, Ava?” Caleb’s voice cracked a bit.

  “Hmmm?” She was still a little lost in the sense-memory of her favorite food—the scent of the chicken, the warmth of the kitchen—steamy-humid from the crackling-hot oil. The weight of . . . something . . . on her stomach.

  Her eyes fluttered open. She stared up at the sky, the smell of chicken even stronger somehow. “What’s on my stomach?”

  “You did it,” Emma whispered in awe.

  “What did I do?” Ava still didn’t dare look at her stomach. She was beginning to think she knew what she’d find and wasn’t quite certain she could handle it.

  “Ava, look,” Caleb said quietly.

  She curled up on her elbows and peeked down, her eyes widening in surprise. A plate of fried chicken sat on her belly, steam wafting in the cool air. She steadied the plate—almost surprised to find it solid in her hand—before sitting up, still gaping at it as she held it gingerly before her.

  “It’s . . . chicken.”

  Emma giggled.

  “But how?” She looked around the circle from Emma to Caleb to Audrey. “Where did it come from?”

  “Did she shift it?” Emma asked Audrey.

  “From Oregon?” Audrey laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then . . . you think?” Emma sat up a little bit, turning wide eyes on Ava.

  “Yeah,” Audrey said.

  “Yeah, what?” Ava was getting a little irritated that the three of them seemed to know something that she didn’t, not to mention were talking about her like she wasn’t sitting right there. Holding a plate of chicken. That she really wanted to eat, actually.

  “I’ve never seen anyone manifest something so complex,” Caleb said, reaching out for a drumstick.

  Ava fought the urge to snatch it away, instead watching as he took a bite.

  “S’good,” he said and licked his lips. “Try it.”

  Ava took a piece, offering some to Emma and Audrey before taking a bite. The skin crackled, and juice slipped out the corner of her mouth before she caught it on her thumb.

  “Does it taste like your mom’s?” Audrey asked, her green eyes appraising.

  Ava took another bite, swallowing before she answered. “It does. It . . . is, isn’t it?” She couldn’t believe what she was asking.

  “I think so.” Audrey took a bite, nodding in approval.

  “But . . . how?”

  Emma finished her chicken and tossed the bone over the fence before wiping her fingers on her jeans. “You manifested it.”

  “Manifested? Like . . .” She waved a hand in the air. “Abracadabra? Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat?”

  Caleb laughed. “No. Like, you realigned the atoms around you to create your mother’s fried chicken.”

  Ava’s mouth dropped open. “But—but that’s impossible!”

  “Rare,” Audrey said, holding up a finger and eyeing the chicken. “But not impossible.”

  Ava’s mind raced with the possibilities as she gnawed on a chicken wing. She stopped mid-gnaw and asked, “How does it work?”

  “I don’t really know,” Caleb said, reaching for another piece. “I’ve only met one guy years ago who could do it, but all he could manifest were ice cubes.”

  “Ice cubes?”

  “Yeah. He could pick water atoms out of the air and condense them.” Caleb took the plate from Ava and set it down before her. “Nothing this complicated, though. This is . . . well, it’s extraordinary is what it is.”

  “You think you can do it again?” Emma asked, rolling over until she was lying on her stomach, her chin propped on her fists.

  “I have no id
ea.” Ava couldn’t take her eyes off the half-empty plate. “I don’t know how I did it in the first place.”

  “Well, if it’s like shifting, it’s a matter of visualization,” Caleb said as he switched into teaching mode once again. “You were thinking about your mom’s chicken. Your memories must be particularly vivid—maybe that helped.”

  “It’s like using your Race sight.” Audrey leaned forward to emphasize her words. “Try to see all the details. Look within as you imagine it.”

  “You also seemed pretty relaxed,” Emma said. “Don’t think too hard about it.”

  Ava took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Remember. Focus. Look within. Relax. Got it.” She lay back down in the grass, laced her fingers together over her stomach, and closed her eyes. After a moment, she popped one back open. “What should I try?” she asked Caleb.

  He shrugged. “Maybe try to make the chicken disappear?”

  “Disappear?” Ava frowned. “Isn’t that the opposite of manifesting?”

  “Not really.” Emma shifted her weight to one hand, waving the other dramatically. “You’re just putting the atoms back where they were.”

  Ava wrinkled her nose. “Just like that.”

  “Just like that.” Emma frowned. “Well, except for the pieces we ate.”

  She looked to Audrey as if wondering if the pieces in their stomachs would disappear, too, but the other woman shrugged. Apparently, this was new to all of them.

  Caleb crawled over to sit by Ava’s shoulder. “Don’t overthink it,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

  She could feel his gift mingling with hers, boosting it, and she sighed into his touch.

  “Imagine the spot where the plate is,” Audrey said. “Then imagine it . . . gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Gone.”

  “Okay.” Ava sighed, closing her eyes again and ignoring her persistent headache. “I’ll try.”

  In the end, it wasn’t as difficult as Ava thought it would be. It only took about half an hour before she was able to make the chicken disappear . . . and reappear . . . and finally transform it into a football, of all things.

  She found she could only manifest things she had personal experience with—things she could imagine in precise detail. She tried, for example, to manifest a copy of Moby Dick, but although the cover looked realistic, the pages were covered with gibberish.

  It excited her, though, to explore her new abilities. In addition to the manifesting, her telekinesis had strengthened as much as her body, and Ava’s control had grown exponentially. By midafternoon, she found herself standing in the middle of the training field, weight blocks and pieces of the obstacle course whirling in the air around her. She laughed, her arms spread wide, manifesting balls and chairs and whatever popped into her mind. Her gift surged forth, and it felt like it swept out to encompass everything around her.

  “Ava!” Caleb shouted.

  She was vaguely aware of a pulsing in her head—the headache wouldn’t go away, but she couldn’t be bothered with it. She spotted a bench across the field and picked it up into the air, stacking it on top of a pyramid of weight blocks. She heard a rattling sound and realized the fence surrounding the training field was vibrating—the roof of the common building, no, the building itself shaking as well.

  “Ava, stop!” Caleb ducked under a flying rock and ran toward her, but she barely noticed.

  The ground quaked beneath her feet, and she looked down in surprise as a narrow fissure opened up beneath her. Power rushed through her, lifting her off the ground, her toes barely brushing the grass as the earth cracked beneath them.

  Caleb slammed into her, grabbing her around the hips and tackling her to the ground.

  With her concentration broken, the blocks and boulders fell to the ground and the tremors stopped abruptly. Ava’s breath grew harsh in her ears—now that everything else was silent—her chest heaving with every inhale, her skin tingling with the aftershocks of her power.

  “Holy—” She sat up, untangling herself from Caleb. “Did you see that? It was incredible!”

  “Ava—”

  “I felt so amazing . . . so alive—”

  “Ava!”

  She blinked at Caleb, confused at his look of concern, a similar expression on Audrey’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you all right?” Audrey asked.

  “Of course I am. I’m great! I don’t understand—”

  Caleb cut her off with a look. “Ava, look around.”

  She did, then, getting to her feet and turning in a slow circle. The training field was . . . well, a mess, actually—rocks, balls, and various other things were scattered haphazardly around, the bench overturned and lying on a broken section of fence. She spotted Emma watching from a distance, half hiding behind a storage shed; the shed itself was slightly crooked, one wall crumpled by a wayward rock. Her eyes dropped to the cracks in the ground, for the first time realizing the extent of the damage she’d wrought.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I—I didn’t realize.”

  “You’re bleeding,” Caleb said quietly, handing her a handkerchief.

  She pressed it to her nose, a headache suddenly pounding behind her temples. “I don’t feel so good,” she mumbled, dropping down to sit on the grass while she put her head between her knees.

  Gideon and Tyra burst through the gate, followed by a half dozen armed Guardians.

  “What in the world happened?” Gideon shouted as he stepped around an upended weight block with its corner stuck into the ground. “We thought it was an earthquake at first.”

  “No, no earthquake,” Audrey said. “Believe it or not, that was Ava.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ava started to get up but sat down heavily again, overcome by dizziness. “I’ll fix it. I can fix it.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Gideon asked, crouching down next to Caleb.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “It’s nothing,” Ava said, rubbing at her temples. “It’s normal. Emma said it’s probably an aftereffect of the block. It’ll be fine.”

  Emma had finally left her hiding place and stood on the edge of the circle, and they all looked to her for confirmation. “It should go away as she gains more control,” she said.

  “See?” Ava tried to get up again, leaning heavily on Caleb. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I just need more practice.”

  “I think that’s enough practice for the day,” Caleb said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

  “But I should clean up—”

  “It can wait,” he said.

  Gideon reached out to touch her shoulder. “Caleb’s right. You should get something to eat and rest. We can deal with all of this tomorrow.”

  At the mention of food, Ava’s stomach growled. The few bites of chicken had long since worn off and she was tired and hungry, so she didn’t put up a fuss. She let Caleb take her into the kitchen, fix her a sandwich with a side of R-cubes, and tuck her into bed.

  She fell asleep almost immediately, too exhausted to notice when he left the room.

  “Got a minute?”

  When Gideon looked up from his computer, Caleb entered his office, taking in the sparse furnishings and simple metal table and chairs with a disinterested glance.

  “How’s Ava?” Gideon asked, pushing the laptop aside and folding his hands over a pile of maps and papers on the tabletop.

  Caleb rubbed at his eyes and drew a heavy breath. “I don’t know.”

  “Did the R-cubes help?”

  “She said they did.”

  “But?”

  “I think she was lying. Or she didn’t want me to worry.”

  Gideon waved toward an empty chair, and Caleb hesitated only a moment before sitting down.

  He was tired, he had to admit. The past few days—weeks, really—had taken a toll that was catching up to him. He never thought he’d be sitting with his father, of all people, about to pour out his thoughts and worries. But really, there
were very few options. Tiernan. No, not going to happen. Tiernan wasn’t really a talk-out-your-feelings kind of guy. Emma thought he was overreacting and said Ava would be fine. She just needed time. It made sense, but he couldn’t help worrying. Still, he wasn’t exactly sure how to start the conversation.

  “She’s very powerful.”

  Gideon huffed out a laugh. “That’s putting it mildly. From the state of the training field, I’d say she’s one of the most powerful people I’ve ever met. And that’s saying a lot.”

  Caleb cleared his throat and scooted closer to the desk. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You’ve seen it all, pretty much. But have you ever . . . it seems like there’s something . . . wrong, doesn’t it?”

  “You mean the nosebleed.”

  “It’s more than that,” Caleb replied, unsure exactly what he meant. “There’s just something wrong. Her gift—it feels . . . too much, maybe? I don’t even know.”

  Gideon eyed Caleb. “You’ve bonded with her.”

  Caleb flushed, not meeting his eyes. “To an extent, yes.” This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his estranged father. Still, he couldn’t see an alternative.

  “And her gift feels wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Caleb stood up quickly, the chair scooting back along the floor in his haste. “It feels . . . different.”

  “Well, that’s understandable. The block—”

  “It’s not just the block,” he said. “If it was only that, I wouldn’t be so concerned.” He paced a few steps and back again. “She got a headache.”

  Gideon sat back, crossing his arms. “Really.”

  “I think it was worse than she let on. And there are the nosebleeds.”

  “Nosebleeds? As in more than one?”

  Caleb nodded. “One when Emma initially lifted the block. Another today.”

  Gideon seemed to consider that as he ran a finger idly over a map on the table. “What does Emma say? She’s young, but she really has more experience with this than any of us.”

  “She’s lifted other blocks and says it’s normal.”

  “You disagree.”

  Caleb sat back down and adjusted his chair so he could lean forward on the table. “What do you think? Like you said, you’ve met a lot of people—Race, Half-Breeds—have any of them had headaches after using their gifts? Nosebleeds?”