by Ciara Graves
He smiled, but I couldn’t get myself to do the same. Instead, tears welled in my eyes, and then he was pulling me into his arms, sitting beside me on the bed.
“Hey, it’s fine. We’re all fine.”
“No, I’m not fine,” I mumbled, clinging to his shirt. “I have no idea how to control those powers, none. I’m going to hurt someone.”
“You just have to have a little faith in yourself.”
“It’s not just that. I killed people. I keep seeing them, hearing their screams as they die. We did that. And Moran wants us to keep doing it. Keep fighting, and I’m not ready.”
Brogan held me, saying nothing as I cried against his chest. There wasn’t much to say really. We’d been thrown into this life, and neither one of us could get out. And if we failed, Chas would be screwed after the oath he swore. If we walked away, he’d be on his own, and he couldn’t fight this army alone, no way in hell. He needed us, but drawing on that power again terrified me.
“You know, we’re not sleeping too well either,” Brogan whispered, smoothing a hand through my hair. “I keep seeing their dead bodies. Chas won’t say it, but I hear him at night, growling in his sleep. You’re not alone, Rori.”
“Moran seems to think you and Chas are the key to my learning control.”
“He’s probably right.”
“You sure about that?” I looked toward the door, then I told him about the conversation I overheard. “How much can we really trust him not to send us into a situation we’re not prepared for? And Agnes blames him for what happened to our families.”
Brogan leaned back against the wall. Lightning flickering in his eyes was the only indication that he was worried about what the future would bring. “I trust him,” he finally said. “He didn’t cause this attack. And to be fair, we ran into it headfirst, without thinking.”
“Instinct. It was instinct. I couldn’t leave Chas.”
“Same here. But you’re going to have to figure out how you feel about Moran—about all of us—on your own. And as for learning control, we’ll help you. That’s what we’re here for.”
I thought of the shadow figure of myself, and a shiver raced down my back, colder than even I was used to. “I don’t even know how to tap into that side. It just comes out. Then I don’t feel like myself. I feel like someone else is inside my head, my body. Not the most pleasant feeling in the world.”
“When I was first working on controlling my shaman abilities, there were times they would get out of hand, and I had the same sensation.”
“Did you ever have a shadow version of yourself talking to you inside your head?”
“What? No. Not exactly. Is that what you saw? When?”
“Right after the attack, I guess. Before I woke up.”
His brow furrowed.
“Brogan, how long have I been out?”
“Which time?”
“What do you mean?”
He got up slowly and paced away a couple of steps, then he turned back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You were out for about four days after the battle,” he said quietly. “And after you woke up and freaked out, you were out for another two.”
“That can’t be right. Agnes and Moran were just in here. She stitched up my wound.”
“Yeah, two days ago.”
My heart rate increased dramatically, and I grew dizzy.
Brogan was back at my side.
“Why was I out for so long? I thought it was just a gunshot wound.”
“It was, but Agnes said there was something else going on up here.” He tapped my temple. “Guess she was right if you were having a conversation with yourself. You never seemed to be distressed, so I doubt it’s a bad thing.”
I nodded along with him, but internally, I was arguing that he was wrong. That other me, the shadow figure said it was there to make sure I did what was necessary. That I didn’t let anything stop me from carrying out my mission. It was colder than me, more blunt, and heartless. It had no face for me to gauge its expressions, but its voice had been flat and emotionless.
Brogan asked if I was alright and I told him I was.
“Can I go back to our apartment? I want to get cleaned up.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I need to get out of this bed, move around .”
He offered me his arm, and together we walked out of the infirmary.
In the corridor, Chas was pacing back and forth. When he spotted us, he hurried over to hug me.
“I’m good, promise.” I hugged him back.
He held me longer than he had before, and I sank into him, loving the extra warmth that came from his abilities.
I sensed Brogan’s eyes on us and coughed, gently pushing back.
Chas let me go, looking into my eyes. “If you say so.”
“I do. Just wanted to get out of here. What’s going on?”
They exchanged a look over my head. I rolled my eyes but said nothing.
“We’re heading out in three days,” Chas replied.
“And? What happened during the fight? No one’s told me anything.”
“You haven’t exactly been awake,” Chas pointed out, “but Four Point has already been evacuated. The recruits sent off to other locations, so we can condense our forces and increase protection for them.”
“How many of our people died?” I asked, my voice coming out hoarse. “Chas?”
“Enough,” he growled, “and for now that’s all you need to know.”
I glowered at him, but he shrugged as if to say deal with it.
I’d figure it all out eventually.
We reached our apartment, and I told them both I was fine. That they could go. Neither one made to go until I was down the hall and shut my bedroom door, giving myself some privacy. We’d be packing up and moving again soon anyway. Who knew what this new place would be like. I walked into the bathroom and cringed at my tangled, white hair. It was strange, but at the same time, I was becoming the new Rori Griffith.
Balance. It was all about balance, but if I couldn’t find that balance, I feared the shadow figure inside my head would take full control and then who would I be? If Dad could do it, then I could too, right?
That’s what I told myself, but a half hour later, I still didn’t believe it.
I hope you enjoyed Hexing!
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Copyright © 2018 by Ciara Graves
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