The Holders

by Julianna Scott

  “I was, I just woke up,” he said, sitting down in the empty seat next to me. “Trick is to bring your own pillow.”

  “Woke up? Isn’t it a little early for that?”

  “Maybe for you, but for those of us who run on Ireland time, it’s about six in the morning.”

  “Oh, right. Still, too early for me.”

  We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, which was odd considering how much time I’d spent thinking about him since we had last spoken. Moreover, it made me realize how stupid I was being, letting this “crush” thing go to my head.

  I decided I needed to change my game plan. I couldn’t just decide not to have a crush on him, as I didn’t really decide to have a crush on him in the first place. However, what I could do was treat him just like I would any other guy. I would be his friend, figuring that the sooner I had friendly feelings for him, the sooner the other feelings – whatever they were – would go away.

  Armed with this new attitude, I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m glad you came over. I was starting to think you were going to bail on your end of the deal.”

  “Sorry,” he said as his eyebrows furrowed a bit, “I’ve just been… it’s not that I didn’t want…” He paused and rubbed his hands over his face.

  “If you’re tired we don’t have to do this now,” I offered.

  “No, no, I’m fine. I’m not tired, it’s just been… a weird few days,” he finished with a smile that was somewhere between wry and sad.

  He didn’t explain, and I didn’t ask, assuming if he wanted me to know he would have said. Besides, that wasn’t what I was most interested in knowing right now anyway.

  “So,” I said.

  “So?”

  I turned and crossed my legs on top of the seat, propped my right elbow on my knee, rested my chin in my hand, stared directly at him and smiled, in a somewhat blatant ’I’m listening, so start talking‘ gesture. He chuckled – which was good, as that was the point – and turned in his seat, bringing one knee up under himself so he could fully face me.

  “All right,” he said, looking thoughtful, “where to start?”

  “The beginning is usually best.”

  “Yes, but somehow I get the feeling that if I started by saying ‘In the beginning’, you’d laugh at me.”

  He was teasing me. I liked it. “Yeah, probably,” I said smiling.

  “So what then?” he asked with a smirk. “Once upon a time?”

  “Mmm…” I pretended to ponder. “What else you got?”

  “A long time ago, in a galaxy–”

  “Yeah, OK,” I giggled, rolling my eyes, trying to remember to keep my voice down, “how about we stick to ‘A long time ago’.”

  “All right then,” he said clearing his throat, “a long time ago, thousands of years ago actually, there was a race of people living in Ireland called Cumhacht Coinnigh or Power Holders. They were like regular humans in every way except that they each had what they called a beannú an bandia, a ‘blessing of the Goddess’. This ‘blessing’ was actually a special power or ability. Some Holders could read and control the thoughts of others, some could heal the injured or sick, some,” he gestured to himself, “could conjure false images, while others could change their appearance right before your eyes. There were people who could make charms and spells, some who could read and measure the powers of others, and a few who could actually walk in the future. There were all sorts of powers that people had back in those days, some that we aren’t even aware of as their lines have died out completely.”

  “Lines?”

  “Abilities are, well, for lack of a better word, genetic. Holders have the same ability that their ancestors had. Ryland will read minds because that is what Jocelyn does, just like I can cast because that’s the power someone had back down the line in my family.”

  “What about me? Jocelyn’s my father, why don’t I do anything?”

  “Well, first off you’re a girl. Abilities in women have always been few and far between. Even in the ancient times Holders were almost always men.”

  “Why?” I know it was stupid to be offended by something no one had any control over, but I kind of was.

  He smiled at my tone. “We don’t know; that’s just the way it’s always been. Now that’s not to say it never happens, but even when it does, the women are never as powerful as the men. Sorry, wasn’t my call,” he said, with a grin. “But it’s not just gender; inheriting an ability is never a sure thing. Just because a man is a Holder, that doesn’t mean that all his kids will inherit the trait, just like all his kids may not inherit his hair color.”

  He paused, giving me a minute to collect my thoughts before going on, though oddly enough I didn’t really need to. Just like during our first conversation in my room I was amazed at how normal all this sounded. I wasn’t weirded out, or scared, or… anything. Ironically enough, my lack of fear was actually starting to scare me a little bit. But before I could think too much about that, something else crossed my mind. “Wait, you said that someone else had been a Holder ‘back down the line’ in your family. Wouldn’t it have been your father?”

  “Well, no, not necessarily. It doesn’t always work that way anymore. In the beginning, all the Holders were in Ireland, kept contained by the limits of the island itself. However, over time, they began to slowly spread out, traveling to new lands and settling all over the world. As they started to build lives elsewhere and have families with people of other nations, the race began to slowly die out. Nowadays, most of the people who are ‘Holders’,” he made air quotes, “have an ability that is so washed out and diluted that they aren’t even aware they have it. Someone who long ago would have had the ability to control minds is now no more than a person who seems to always be able to talk their way out of trouble. Someone who should have the ability to heal is now only a particularly gifted doctor. But every now and again the Holder trait will flare for some reason, and someone will end up with a power as strong as his ancestors would have had.”

  “Like you?”

  “Like me,” he said. “And Ryland, and Taron, as well as others you’ll meet at St Brigid’s.”

  I opened my mouth to speak but closed it again, lost in thought.

  “Are you all right?” Alex asked after a minute or two of silence, a worried look in his eyes. “Because we can stop for now if you want.”

  “No, I’m fine… actually that’s what’s weird. I shouldn’t be fine. Why am I fine?” I asked foolishly, as if he should have an answer.

  “Actually I’ve been trying to figure that one out myself. But I suppose if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because it’s in your blood. You did graduate two years early.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Those in a Holder line are usually advanced or gifted in one aspect or another. Maybe your intelligence and ability to learn quickly is due to a little bit of Holder in your blood.”

  “Wait, seriously?”

  “Makes sense, and I’ve seen it before.”

  “So, that’s why you said my graduating early was interesting?”

  He nodded.

  “Well that’s just… lame! Ryland gets to read minds, and that’s all I get?”

  “Better than nothing,” he said, trying not to laugh. “And who knows, maybe somewhere deep down you’ve always known that Ryland was different in some special way. That you both were.”

  I had always known, about Ryland anyway. People had been trying for years to convince me that Ryland was crazy but somehow I’ve always known that couldn’t be true. Maybe Alex was right. Maybe it was in my blood.

  “So how about Captain Fun-Times over there? What’s he do?” I asked, scowling across the aisle at the sleeping figure of Taron.

  Alex laughed quietly. “The thing you have to understand about Taron is that he is very passionate about our cause and about Holderkind in general. It can sometimes make him seem…”

  “Like an ass?” I suggested.<
br />
  “Something like that,” he chuckled, “but don’t worry, it’s not you.”

  “Sure seems like it is.”

  “I know, but he means well. He has been with Jocelyn longer than any of us, and his ability has been very helpful over the years. It’s called Discerning, meaning he is basically a human lie detector. He can tell instinctively if someone is telling the truth, or lying, or if their words or actions have been compelled by mind control.”

  “Yeah, well helpful or not, I don’t trust him.”

  “Give it time,” Alex smiled.

  Happy to change the subject I asked, “So, are you all are born with this? Does that mean there are super babies running around?”

  “Yes and no. Yes, we are born this way, but no,” he smiles as though he is genuinely amused by my stupid comments, “there are no super babies. Once a Holder reaches adulthood, which is usually somewhere between fourteen and sixteen, they have what we call an Awakening, at which point their ability becomes active. Before that, they are almost entirely normal, except for the occasional glimpse of the ability they will one day have. For instance, when I was younger I would sometimes see things that weren’t really there.”

  “And Ryland hears voices,” I said, talking more to myself than to him. “Voices that are actually thoughts.”

  He smiled, seeming happy that I understood. “Exactly. Though, I will tell you that his case is somewhat extreme. Normally we wouldn’t expect someone so young to hear any more than the occasional whisper or impression. The fact that he is hearing full sentences is sort of a big deal.”

  “Like, ‘big deal’ as in bad?”

  “No, he’s fine; it’s nothing to worry about. This is a part of the story that we’re not going to get into tonight, but just suffice it to say that Ryland is very special.”

  Something in his tone seemed a little off and instantly piqued my interest. “Meaning…?”

  “We’ll get to that soon, but not tonight,” he chuckled. “We have to get to St Brigid’s first. There are a few things there you need to see before that part of the story will make any sense.”

  “But there’s nothing wrong with him, right?”

  “No,” he said looking me in the eyes with so much warmth and honesty that for a second I forgot what I’d asked him, “I promise.”

  “OK,” I whispered, with an entirely uncalled for sigh.

  God, I really was becoming one of those girls…

  “Maybe you should get some sleep,” he said, looking down suddenly.

  “I know I should,” I said, looking away, pretending to readjust the blanket on my lap, “but I don’t think it’s on the cards tonight.”

  “Try,” he said, looking up with another smile that was not fake, but not quite happy. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  “Right,” I nodded, sad that he was leaving. As he stood to go, I remembered something. “Alex?” He turned back to me with a small smile that seemed… tired? I wasn’t sure. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for how horrible I was to you that day at the house.”

  He had his hand in the air to stop me before I’d even finished. “Don’t,” he said, very seriously. “Don’t ever apologize for that.” He paused for a moment, his eyes, though still serious, grew soft. “I think it’s amazing that you are willing to do anything to protect your brother. With the way we are, being different, people, even family members, don’t usually understand. He’s lucky to have you. I wish…” he looked away for a moment, then steadily back at me, and once again I was pulled into his stormy colored eyes. “I wish I’d had someone like you.”

  Before I could respond he was gone, and I was left to try and sleep over the roar of my own thoughts.

  5

  Before I even realized I’d fallen asleep, I felt a hand shaking my arm. “Wake up! We’re almost there!” I cracked one eye open to see a freckle-faced little carrot top with about the worst bed-head I’d ever seen.

  “Go away,” I mumbled, hugging my pillow closer and snuggling in.

  “Look!” he said, climbing on top of me to lift up my window shade.

  “You stink, get off me!” I moaned, pushing him onto the floor and sitting up.

  “I don’t stink, you stink,” he mumbled, straightening himself up and moving over to look out the window.

  “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know. My watch says 5.00, but the clock on the screen says 10.00,” he said, not taking his eyes from the window.

  Suddenly I realized something: a pillow. I had been sleeping on a real pillow. I reached over and smoothed my hand over the soft worn cotton, totally at a loss.

  “Where did this come from?”

  “Where did what come from?” Ryland asked, not bothering to look.

  “This pillow.”

  “How am I supposed to know where your pillow came from?”

  It was a full-sized bed pillow, with a pillowcase and everything. A far cry from the lumpy postage stamp pillow the flight attendant had given me. Suddenly, something Alex said the night before came to my mind: ‘The trick is to bring your own pillow.’ My eyes popped open and I inhaled sharply –Alex? Was this his pillow?

  “What’s wrong with you?” Ryland had turned from the window and was looking at me.

  “Nothing,” I said, as casually as I could, then, knowing that little boys can ask far more questions than is good for anyone involved, quickly changed the subject. “You’re a mess, go to the bathroom and clean up.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine, and if I have to be seen with you, you’re going to go clean up.”

  I started pushing him towards the aisle while he continued to whine, “I already washed my face with the wet towel they gave me with breakfast…”

  “Then at least fix your hair, you look like a serial killer.” He snickered and slumped off towards the lavatories. “Use water,” I called after him, to which he answered with a “yeah, yeah” wave behind his back.

  I rummaged through my carry-on and pulled out my brush and a hair tie. I combed out my mane, and braided it into one long plait. I hadn’t thought to bring my toothbrush on the plane with me, so I grabbed some gum out of my jacket pocket to get the sleep funk out of my mouth. I stood and stepped out into the aisle relishing how good it felt to be able to stretch. I headed for the lavatories figuring I should check on Ryland’s progress, and sure enough when I got there I saw him stepping out of one of the tiny doors, hair still sticking out all over.

  “Nope, get back in there,” I said, pointing behind him.

  “But I used water…” he whined as I spun him around by the shoulders and followed him in, closing the door behind us.

  After another five minutes in the matchbox bathroom, in which Ryland had to kneel on the closed lid of the toilet in order for both of us to fit, we emerged two respectable-looking human beings.

  As we turned the corner heading back to our seats, the first thing I saw was Alex, leaning casually on the headrest of the aisle seat of my row.

  “Good morning,” he said, as we approached.

  “Morning,” Ryland said with a wave, before dropping into his row and resuming his perch by the window.

  Alex stepped aside so that I could re-enter my row, and I slid over to my seat, lifting his pillow into my lap as I went. He sat down next to me tentatively, as though he thought the action might somehow offend me.

  “This is yours I assume,” I said, handing him the pillow. He simply smiled and took it. “Thank you.” To that, he gave a funny laugh and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “What?”

  “You…” he chuckled again. “You thanked me last night, actually.”

  “I did?” I didn’t remember seeing him at all after our conversation, much less speaking to him.

  “Yeah, when I gave it to you.”

  “Was I awake?”

  “Um, no, I don’t think so.” His ears grew red, and I was immediately wondering what I’d said, worried it was something really dumb.r />
  Luckily, before I could find out what it was, the seatbelt sign lit up and the flight attendant announced our descent into Charles De Gaulle Airport.

  “Does that mean we’re there?” Ryland was practically bouncing on his seat, shaking my headrest to get my attention.

  “No, this is Paris. And sit down and buckle up, what’s wrong with you?” I scolded, shoving his hands off my seat.

  Ignoring me, he hopped down and ran out around us, climbing into the row in front of Alex and me. He turned to face us and got up on his knees so he could see over the headrest. “How can we land, we are still really high up.”

  “We’re descending, not landing. It means going down.”

  “When will we land?”

  “I don’t know, half hour or so?”

  “A half hour?” Ryland groaned, melodramatically dropping his head down on the top of the seat. “Then we have another plane ride?”

  “Yep.”

  “But that will be a short one,” Alex added.

  “How short?” Ry asked.

  “Only about two hours,” Alex assured him.

  “Then we’ll be there?”

  “Yes,” I said with a sneaky grin, “after the car ride.”

  “Car ride!”

  “Oh, it won’t be that bad, we’ll be there before you know it,” I said, picking up my discarded SkyMall from last night and thumbing through it.

  “Yeah right, you said that yesterday, and we’re still not there!”

  “Well, whining about it isn’t going to get us there any faster,” I said, not looking up from my magazine.

  “Only Mom can say that!”

  “OK, let me put it this way,” I looked up at him, “stop whining, or I’ll call the flight attendant over here and make him yell at you for not sitting right in the chair.”

  He crossed his arms over the top of the seat and rested his chin on them. “Fine,” he mumbled against his arm. I glanced over at Alex, who was trying very hard not to seem amused by our bickering, before turning my attention back to SkyMall.

  “I like your necklace,” Ryland said suddenly.

  “I’m not wearing a necklace,” I said.