After dinner we clear the table and load the dishwasher and I tell my mom we’re going to my room to do homework. It’s time for our “Energy Control” class, as Alexander calls it. I’m feeling hopeful. Maybe this will work.
I close the door to my room and almost immediately that familiar charge starts building between us. It hasn’t gotten any easier being alone with Alexander but so far I’ve managed to stay mindful of the consequences.
We start by sitting on the floor, legs crossed, facing one another. Alexander takes my hands in his and tells me to close my eyes.
“Okay, first let’s just relax. Breathe in deep and let it out slowly and just focus on your breathing, nothing else,” he says soothingly. Our knees are touching and an electric current flows between us as our hands make contact, but I focus on my breathing and soon the bubble of cool, calm comfort that I always feel in Alexander’s presence washes over me and everything else dissolves into the background.
“Your aura is so beautiful right now,” Alexander says with awe.
I smile and my heart does tiny flips at his words. “Hey, I’m supposed to be concentrating on my breathing right now. Stop distracting me,” I say jokingly, eyes still closed.
“Right you are, Miss Jane. Always focused—one of the many reasons you’re my favorite student.” Then he adds sincerely, “It just feels so good to be around you.”
I smile again and murmur, “Ditto.”
“Okay, I know we’ve practiced breathing and concentration before, but I talked with Edwin and he said guided practice is the only way to gain enough control to be able to use your power consistently when you need it.”
I nod and he continues, “That means I’m going to have to direct some dark energy at you so you can practice fending it off. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s the only way.”
I gulp slightly.
“I’ll be right here,” he reassures, “and if at any moment it becomes too much, all you have to do is say ‘stop’ and I’ll stop immediately. In the meantime, just concentrate on my words as I walk you through what to do. Sound good?”
I open my eyes for a moment to see him looking at me with concern. I nod and he squeezes my hands. “Remember, I’m right here. Everything will be okay.”
I close my eyes again as he begins.
“Focus again on your breathing. Just relax. Breathe in slowly and deeply, filling your core, and exhale out fully.” He pauses as I relax into my breathing for a minute or two. “Do you remember the night of the dance when Avestan and I were fighting? You shouted ‘stop’ and I think you caught a glimpse of what we saw.”
My eyes flip open. “You mean the white light? You saw that? I thought I imagined it.”
“It was real. You have more power within you than you realize—greater than any mortal I’ve seen. When you learn to control it, I promise you’ll be able to defend against negative energy. And once you know you can protect yourself, you’ll never feel uncontrollable panic again.”
I nod slowly. He’s giving me hope for a future without anxiety attacks. The thought is hard to fathom.
“Close your eyes again. Picture your power in the depth of your belly. You can see it as a bright white ball of burning light that radiates goodness. It’s always there and it’s always at your command.”
I picture it vividly in my mind and I can almost feel it, radiating heat outward through my limbs.
It’s as if he’s reading my mind as he continues. “You can feel its warmth and it brings a sense of complete contentment that washes over you. Whenever you want, you can extend the warmth throughout your body and even release some of the energy through your fingertips. Imagine white light shimmering around you as it flows through your skin. You don’t have to worry about depleting it because it’s infinite, and as you release it to extend it out to the world it grows larger inside you and continually fills you with a sense of peace.”
His descriptions are so serene. I melt into them. As he continues and I concentrate all my focus, the energy vibrates throughout my body until it grows so powerful I feel as though I’m levitating above the floor.
“I’m going to direct some dark energy toward you now. I’ll start slowly with very little so you can become accustomed and not be afraid. When you start to feel it, I want you to focus on your power. Harness that burning white light in your belly and pull it to the surface to create a protective shield all around you. Imagine the shimmering light vibrating out in a circle, impenetrable.”
I nod with trepidation.
“I’m starting now. Hold my hands tight when you feel it, and remember you can tell me to stop at any moment.”
My heart is racing. I don’t know if it’s just nerves or if I’m already feeling the energy he’s directing towards me. Suddenly I feel a jolt that is unmistakable. A sense of thick despair falls over me like a cloak and I have to choke back a sob. I start to sweat and my breathing becomes fast and shallow. I’m gripping Alexander so tightly my hands hurt.
I try hard to focus on his voice, “Remember to concentrate on your power. It’s a bright ball of white hot energy ready at your command. Picture it, feel its warmth, and draw it out through your body to create a defensive barrier all around you.”
It’s hard to focus on anything through my panic but as I listen to his voice I picture the energy at my core and slowly, slowly it becomes vivid again. I feel radiating heat and concentrate on rolling it through my body, moving it wherever I want it to go. It’s a burning white ball expanding outward to create an impervious shield. I’m in control and it feels fantastic. I illuminate it more fully in my mind and imagine it as a weapon I can use against dark forces. Suddenly I’m a character in a movie in my mind, fighting dark angels bent on destruction. I picture the light shooting out my fingertips, zapping their dark energy into puffs of smoke.
“Ow!”
Alexander’s startled shout makes me drop his hands and open my eyes.
“What did you just do?”
“I was picturing lasers shooting out of my fingers,” I say sheepishly. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, just shocked the hell out of me.” He looks at me curiously as if he’s not sure what to make of it. After a pause, he decides. “Good on ya, for doing that. That was great, actually. I didn’t know that was possible for a mortal. You continue to amaze, Miss Jane.”
I smile back, “Thanks to you, Professor Ronin.”
“Edwin was definitely onto something when he suggested this.”
“Should we try again?”
“That depends. Are you going to keep your weapons holstered this time?”
I smile and we start the process over. Alexander increases the strength of the energy he directs at me each time and ups the level of enmity. It’s difficult and draining. It’s obvious now that he went easy on me the first time to build my confidence. By the last time, I have to shout ‘stop!’ and I fold into tears in his arms, choking on the blackness.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, babe,” he murmurs as he holds me and caresses my hair, smoothing it and pulling me close, “It’s over now.”
He floods me with his energy—I can feel it melting over me in waves, calming me. Ever so slowly, the feeling shifts from tranquility to heightened awareness at our proximity. The vibration in the air becomes palpable and it’s clear he feels it, too.
“Could we kiss as long as it’s not on the lips? Maybe I could kiss you here?” I ask as I trail my finger softly along the side of his neck.
He lets out a low, wary sigh. “Declan, if we start kissing .... Maintaining things as we are is already hard enough. I don’t think I can take much more.”
The heartache in his voice mirrors my own. There has to be some way around our cruel circumstances.
“When I asked what would happen if we kiss, you said it had never happened before, so how can you know it’s true?
“Edwin confirmed what the legends say.”
“But Edwin was just telling you what he heard?”
“Yes, but Declan, all guardians know the consequences. I could never risk your life.” His eyes are dark as he gazes into mine.
“You would lose your immortality?”
“Yes, I would be a fallen guardian. But you’re all that matters. I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation.”
“Would you become a dark angel like Avestan?”
“No. Avestan is immortal. He chose darkness. I would be mortal again, starting over. I wouldn’t care if it didn’t also mean losing you.”
The anguish in his voice stops me from pushing the issue further. I attempt to lighten the mood. “Okay, I give up. I’m just trying to find some loophole for us. A girl can try, right?”
He seems relieved. “Yes, a girl can try,” he repeats with a sigh. “And a guy can, too. Believe me, if there was a loophole to be found, I would have driven through it at light speed a long time ago. There’s no way around it, Declan. Not in this lifetime.”
Chapter Eleven
The next morning at school I’m actually looking forward to practicing my “energy shield” powers.
“Where’s Molly?” I ask Finn. She was absent in homeroom and chemistry.
“You’re searching for the girl who sends you spiraling into anxiety attacks?”
Finn sees the expression on my face and although he isn’t great at picking up on things he can tell I’m hurt. “Sorry, Dec. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. You’re right—I do feel rotten around her. I don’t know why she upsets me sometimes and I have no idea why she hates me so much.”
“That’s easy. I know why.”
“You do?”
He nods. “Your latest transgression is dating Alexander, but it started long before that. She’s been mad at you since that day in fourth grade.”
Huh? “Finn, what are you talking about? What day?”
“The day she told you I was weird.”
I shake my head. “Still lost. Can you please start at the beginning?”
“Okay. Do you remember when my mom told your mom I had Asperger’s? It was near the end of third grade.”
“I thought you said this happened in fourth grade?”
“You said to start at the beginning. Just go with it. My mom talked to your mom because you and I were best friends and she wanted your mom to understand my bluntness and stuff.”
“How do you know this?”
“I overheard my mom talking to my aunt on the phone about it, but that’s not important. Do you know what your mom said?”
“I remember her talking with me back then. She said something like we’re all wired differently with unique strengths and challenges and she told me some of the things that were difficult for you so I would understand. I don’t think she mentioned Asperger’s. In fact, you were the one to first tell me about Asperger’s later.”
Finn nods. “My mom was nervous to tell your mom. She wasn’t sure if it was the best thing to do because she didn’t want to label me. She didn’t even tell me until almost a year later—which still ticks me off because it was a huge relief. Before that I just thought there was something wrong with me and I was afraid to ask.”
“Oh, Finn,” I say sympathetically, hugging him around the shoulders as we sit beside each other.
“The way your mom responded made my mom cry … in a good way. She was crying when she told my aunt about it on the phone.”
“What did my mom say?”
“She said she was honored that my mom trusted her enough to share the information. But she said as far as she was concerned, I was the same old Finn she had always known and loved, and it didn’t change a thing about how she felt about me.”
I smile. I can picture my mom saying that, and it encapsulates exactly how I felt when Finn told me in fourth grade. I mean, it helped explain some things but, in the end, what does a label matter? Finn has Asperger’s, I have panic attacks—everyone has something they’re dealing with that makes life challenging. We should all give each other a break for Christ’s sake.
“What does any of this have to do with Molly?”
“I’m getting to that,” Finn answers. “My mom did the same thing with Molly’s mom. Remember how my mom used to switch off with Mrs. Bing, carpooling Molly and I to swim class every week? My mom figured she should probably tell her, too. But Mrs. Bing reacted differently. She was nice enough, but I guess she freaked out a little and was nervous about it, asking my mom if she should tell Molly.
“My mom tried to tell her that it was just an explanation for my quirkiness, but Mrs. Bing treated me differently after that—like I had a communicable disease or something. My mom told my aunt she regretted saying anything.”
I nod in understanding and Finn continues, “Soon after that, Mrs. Bing told Molly that I have Asperger’s and I guess she must have made it sound like a big deal because after that Molly started treating me differently, too. She looked at me like I was an alien and she stopped talking to me when we were riding to swim practice. I think she was afraid I was going to reach out and hit her or something.”
I laugh out loud. The thought of Finn ever being violent is comical.
“My mom finally stopped the carpool because it was so awkward. Then, in fourth grade, Molly told you I was too weird to be friends with anymore, and that’s why she hates you.”
“What? Back up a minute, I’m not making the connection here.”
He sighs loudly as if it’s obvious. “When you told me the story, you said that Molly walked up to you and said you and I were both weird and she didn’t want to be friends with us anymore. But I know that’s not true. I was following a trail of ants behind that big oak tree in the corner of the playground and I overheard you two talking. Molly said that I was too weird and that she wouldn’t hang out with you anymore if you stayed friends with me.”
I’m embarrassed that Finn caught me in a white lie and I try to explain. “I’m sorry, Finn, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings over some jerky thing Molly said.”
“I don’t care about that. You stuck up for me that day and that’s what I remember. You told her I was the best friend you’d ever had and if she thought I was too weird then that was her problem and she should go work it out.”
We both laugh as he recalls my words. I remember feeling indignant that she would say that about Finn.
“That’s why she hates you,” he continues, “because you didn’t go along with it. And now every time she looks at you she’s reminded of what a crummy human being she can be—and she knows you know it, too.”
“You really think that’s it?”
“I know that’s it.”
“But she was just a kid. She didn’t know any better.”
“Maybe … but you were a kid, too, and you knew better. And she knows better now.”
I take a moment to contemplate his theory. “You know, you’re not only genius smart, Finn, you’re also pretty wise.”
“I hope I have a decent grasp of human nature by now, after all those social skills classes my mom made me take. But I still get a lot of it wrong, I know. I could use your help with something that I’m clueless about. What should I get Liz for Valentine’s Day?”
“How about a card with a twenty dollar bill in it?”
I laugh and he hits my arm.
“You’re joking, right?” he asks, just to make sure.
“A card actually isn’t a bad idea. Write something nice, from the heart, in it. If you put a twenty dollar bill in there, too, as a joke, I know she would think it was funny. And take her out to a nice dinner. Anything that shows you put some time and effort into it …. Oh, and don’t give her the card until you’re at the restaurant having dinner …. And be sure to pay for dinner. She likes the restaurant Butterfly downtown. You should make a reservation quick because they get booked up.” I keep throwing out details because you never know with Finn what he might assume or not. He used to order for himself at Surf Pizza while I held our table and then expect
me to go up and wait in line all over again to order for myself until I explained to him that he should order for both of us.
“Okay, but if she gets mad, I’m telling her it was all your idea.”
“I promise she’ll love whatever you do,” I say reassuringly. I honestly don’t blame him for feeling wary after what happened last year with Serena. If he had acted upset when she broke up with him, Liz and I never would have ribbed him so much, but he honestly didn’t seem to care when she left. I don’t think they were a good match. She never really understood him.
Valentine’s Day is on my mind the rest of the afternoon. Alexander hasn’t told me what he has planned. He made me agree we won’t spend money on gifts because he knows I’m saving for college. He says it’ll be more fun this way anyway because we have to be creative. Every day I toss out a guess and he always smiles and says, “Nope, not even close.” I’m intrigued but also desperately wondering what it can be. I have something I’ve been working on for him, too, but I’m starting to worry that it won’t compare to whatever he’s doing.
On Saturday I rise early. When he first told me to be ready at six I assumed he meant for dinner but he made it clear he would be arriving bright and early and he said to wear clothes for outdoors—layers, because it will warm up later.
He picks me up and we drive on a winding road that leads up into the mountains and through impossibly tall redwood trees. It’s still dark out and small tufts of misty fog reflect in the headlights intermittently. It feels a bit spooky, actually, like a scene from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. They actually do a re-enactment of the Headless Horseman’s ride during Halloween at Redwood Park, near where we’re driving. I can see why. At a turn I almost don’t see in the dark, Alexander pulls off onto a deserted one-lane road and drives on for some distance. We park in a small gravel lot and I realize by a small sign on the fence that we’re in the back of Redwood Park. We must have entered through a ranger access road. I wonder how Alexander knows about this place.
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