The Holders

by Julianna Scott

“Not you,” he said, with a little too much attitude.

  I glanced up to see he was looking at Alex.

  “Do you?” Alex smiled, pulling the necklace he was wearing all the way out of his shirt. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, because you are going to have one just like it.”

  I turned to take a closer look. It was a small circle pendant on a thin black woven leather cord. The pendant was silver in color and had a deep blue gem set in the center of what looked to be interwoven Celtic knots.

  “Cool,” Ryland said, leaning over the back of the seat to get a better look.

  Movement down the aisle caught my attention. “Ry, turn around and sit down, the flight attendant is coming and you’re going to get in trouble.”

  “Can I stay up here?” he asked.

  “Yes, just sit.”

  “OK,” he said, flopping right way round.

  With something between a grin and a grimace, I turned to Alex, “Sorry about tha–”

  “Can I sit by the window?” Ry asked, smushing his face in the small gap between the seats in order to see me without standing up.

  “Yes,” I growled. “Sit wherever you want, just sit!”

  “OK, OK, geez,” he grumbled as he slid over to the window seat.

  “And buckle your seatbelt!” I whispered just as the flight attendant walked by. Once he’d passed, I turned back to Alex, who was still looking bemused by our banter. “Sorry,” I whispered.

  “Don’t be,” he said, his smile making my heart beat just a little faster. “He’s a good kid.”

  “Yeah, so I’m told.” I couldn’t help but grin. “So, what is that?” I asked nodding towards his necklace. “I assume it has something to do with…”

  He nodded, knowing what I meant. “It’s called a Sciath, it means shield. Every Holder has one.”

  “What’s it do?” I asked, keeping my voice low enough to avoid the miniature set of ears in the next row.

  “It helps us to use our abilities – to control them. For instance, if I didn’t have mine, I would still be able to cast, but I wouldn’t be able to control who saw my projections, or how long they lasted. It would also be possible for me to start projecting things against my will, though now I’m old enough for that not to be too big a problem. That’s more a issue with newly awakened Holders.”

  “So, do you wear it all the time? It seems like you really only need it when you use your ability.”

  “Well… there’s one more thing. It protects our weakness.”

  “Your what?”

  “Every ability comes with its own weakness. We’re not sure why, best we can figure is that nature likes balance. Our Sciaths hide our weaknesses.”

  “Weakness like what? Like Ryland hearing random voices?”

  “Sort of.” He nodded. “Ryland hasn’t had his Awakening yet, and so doesn’t have his weakness. Actually, what I told him is only partially true. When he gets to St Brigid’s he will get a charm that will control his ability, but it won’t be his Sciath. He won’t get that until after his Awakening. We give charmed necklaces to all the un-awakened users so that they have an easier time before the change. In Ryland’s case, it will stop him from hearing thoughts randomly or as you have been calling them, the voices.”

  I felt a rush of relief. “Stop them? You can really do that?”

  “Of course,” he said, smiling.

  “But after he has his Awakening, he will have a weakness? What will that be?”

  “Well, in normal instances, he would have the same abilities and weakness as Jocelyn. I don’t know if you would remember, but Jocelyn’s Sciath is actually a ring.”

  “Oh my God,” I whispered. “That huge red one?” I did remember. It was an enormous – or at least seemed enormous to a little kid – gold and red gemstone ring that I could never remember seeing him without.

  Alex nodded, “That’s it. It’s actually a ruby, and that’s his Sciath. Without it, he can still read minds, but he has no choice but to hear everyone’s thoughts all at once, like a never-ending flow of noise in his mind. But with his Sciath, he hears nothing at all unless he wants to and even then he can choose whose mind he wants to read and hear only their thoughts. He can also sift through past thoughts and memories, and even control the mind – making people believe things that aren’t real, or creating or erasing memories. Though he never does that, as he is strongly against having any sort of control over a person.”

  As I listened to him talk I could hear the underlying respect and admiration for the man he spoke of. The man whom I could barely stand the thought of without grinding my teeth. Alex seemed like such a good man. I wondered what Jocelyn could possibly have done to earn his respect, though this obviously wasn’t the time for such a question, so I let it go. Then I realized something. “Wait, you said ‘in normal instances’. Will Ryland be different?”

  “Remember I told you Ryland was special? Well, it plays into that.”

  “And when do we get to that part of the story?” I asked with a grin.

  “Soon,” he said, smiling.

  “So what about you? What’s your weakness?”

  He looked away and cleared his throat, looking suddenly uneasy. Almost as if… Oh God, I’d embarrassed him! I felt so comfortable around him that I never stopped to think that he wasn’t sharing in my crush-driven delusion. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t… it’s no big deal. I’m-I’m sorry.”

  “No,” he said, glancing at me, then down again to his hands, “it’s fine. It really is no big deal. I project emotion.”

  “Emotion? Like feelings?”

  He nodded with a shy wince. “When I’m not wearing my Sciath, anyone who can see me can also see everything I am feeling at that moment.”

  “Oh,” I said, “and you can’t control it?”

  “I can’t even see it. If I think about it, I can hold it in, but it’s hard; like tensing a muscle. I can’t keep it up for long.”

  “Casting emotions doesn’t seem so bad.”

  “No?” he challenged, raising his eyebrows. “Would you want the whole world to know exactly how you are feeling, all the time? Every single little emotion, not only the most present ones. You wouldn’t mind it if everyone that you came across knew exactly how you felt about them, with nothing more than a glance?”

  “Oh… no.” I hadn’t considered that. “No, that would be bad.”

  “Yeah.”

  I started to think about what everyone would see right now if they could read my emotions, and of course my mind immediately went to the ridiculous crush I had on the man sitting right next to me, and I realized that he would be able to see it plain as day. Suddenly I felt my cheeks grow warm and I quickly looked down, pretending to adjust my shoe, praying he didn’t notice the blush.

  “I should probably get back to my seat and start packing up, looks like we are going to land soon.”

  “Sure,” I said, only allowing myself a short glance at him, not yet ready to trust the color of my face.

  “There is one more thing I wanted to tell you,” he said as he stood.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s about our ageing.”

  Curiosity trumped my embarrassment and I looked up. “Your ageing?”

  “After a Holder is awakened, the ageing process slows considerably.”

  “OK…” I said, not sure where he was going with this.

  “At some point I’m sure you’ll meet with Jocelyn, and I wanted to prepare you.”

  “My Mom already tried,” I said, with an eye roll. “She’s convinced I’m going to freak out and put him in the hospital or something.”

  “No, no,” he said with a smile, “I meant prepare you for physically seeing him. I know it’s been over ten years, and I just wanted to let you know that he will more than likely look exactly the way you remember him.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t really thought about what Jocelyn would look like, though now that Alex mentioned it I suppose I would have expected
to see a few wrinkles or some gray hair. I could have told Alex not to worry, as I had no intention of seeing Jocelyn at all, but with Ryland in the next row now wasn’t the time to reveal that little tidbit of info. “Good to know,” I said. “Thanks.”

  He nodded and turned to go, but I stopped him, “Wait, so… how old is he?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Go for it.” How bad could it be?

  “I don’t know his exact age, but I do know that he was born in England somewhere around 1800.”

  “1800!” I squeaked, remembering at the last second to keep my voice down. “You’re telling me that my father could be over two hundred years old?”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder why he has a name like Jocelyn?”

  “So, that used to actually be a guy’s name?”

  “Oh, yeah. In fact, it wasn’t adopted commonly for women until the last fifty years or so.”

  “Two hundred! Eww! How long do you all live?”

  “Depends on the person. Full Holders are the only ones who have any alteration in their lifespan, and the more powerful ones can live anywhere from five to eight hundred years. Most of us only go to about three hundred or so.”

  “Three hundred?! How can you say that like it is no big deal?”

  He shrugged with a smile. “I’m used to the idea, I guess.”

  “Wait, OK, so now I have to know, how old are you?” I asked, bracing for the answer.

  “How old do you think I am?” he countered, his smile turning wry.

  “I don’t know, one hundred and four?”

  “One hundred and four! What about me screams ‘old man’, may I ask?”

  “I don’t know, so younger?”

  “Yes, younger!”

  “I probably shouldn’t guess again…” I said, trying not to giggle.

  “Good lord, I’m twenty two!”

  “So no old folk’s home then?” I was laughing outright, and even Alex was smiling in spite of himself.

  “Excuse me sir, but you are going to need to take your seat,” said a slightly annoyed flight attendant who seemed to come out of nowhere.

  “Sorry.” Alex turned to leave as the attendant walked back to the service bay. “One hundred and four, really?” he whispered, glancing at me before stepping out into the aisle and returning to his seat.

  6

  I’m not going to throw up, I’m not going to throw up, I’m not going to throw up…

  My newfound mantra was endlessly circling in my mind as we bumped down the road towards St Brigid’s Academy. Two plane rides and a two and a half hour van ride were apparently all my motion sickness-prone stomach could handle, and all I could do was pray that we arrived at the school before I made an ass of myself by getting sick all over everyone’s luggage. If I’d thought that asking Taron to drive a little smoother would actually accomplish anything, I might have tried it. However, considering that Taron and I hadn’t gotten off to the friendliest start, nor had he spoken even a word to me since leaving my house that first day, I didn’t figure he’d be in the mood to help me. Actually, I was afraid that he’d get a kick out of my discomfort and would do anything he could to make it worse – which as the driver, he could easily have done. So, I simply sat as still as I could, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window, praying to the stomach gods.

  “We’re here,” Alex called back to us from the front passenger seat.

  “Whoa, cool! Check it out, Becca!” Ryland gushed over something I dared not open my eyes to see. I rejoiced inwardly at our arrival, but refused to move a muscle until we had come to a full and complete stop.

  “OK,” Alex said happily, as the van finally came to a halt, “everybody out!”

  Ryland hopped out as soon as the door slid open, but I hung back a moment, taking a few deep breaths of the cool misty air pouring in the open door.

  “Welcome home, lads!” a strange male voice greeted Taron and Alex. A decidedly Scottish voice. I looked out the open door to see a heavyset man with dark hair and a long black coat clapping Alex on the shoulder.

  “And who have we here, now?” the man said, stooping down to eye level with Ryland. “Master Ingle, is it? Pleasure to meet you, sir.” He smiled warmly and extended his hand, which Ryland hesitantly shook.

  Feeling a bit better – and not wanting to seem like the carsick wussy – I climbed out of the van and took a deep breath of the cool October air. The first thing I noticed however was that while the temperature was close to what it had been in Pittsburgh, the air here smelled different. Fall at home had always smelled like drying leaves and burnt wood, making me think of football and pumpkins and apple pie. But this air was different. It was damp, though not unpleasant, and smelled like sea foam, rain clouds, and musk. The whole atmosphere filled me up, from my hair to my toes, and sparked something deep in my chest that I couldn’t quite put a name to.

  “Ah, we have a second?” the stranger asked, pulling me out of my trance. I looked over to greet him, but hesitated when I saw the way he was gawking at me. “Lord have mercy…” he said under his breath. “Alex, is this…?”

  Alex stepped forward and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Um, yes. Mr Anderson, this is Ryland and Rebecca Ingle.” He motioned to us each in turn. “Becca, Ryland, this is Mr Christopher Anderson, one of the teachers here at St Brigid’s.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, lass, a pleasure indeed. I dare say I think I’d have known her anywhere,” Mr Anderson said with a wink, offering me his hand. “She’s the very image of her father.”

  Knowing that he meant that as a compliment, I forced myself to smile – though I couldn’t quite manage a thank you – and shook his outstretched hand.

  “Why didn’t you say she would be joining us as well?” Mr Anderson asked Alex.

  “Sorry,” Alex said, glancing at me. “I didn’t have a chance. Actually, can I speak with you a moment?” Alex led Mr Anderson off to the side, and I smiled slightly, relief calming my nerves. Alex kept his word.

  As the two of them talked out of earshot, Ryland pulled on my sleeve. “Can I look around?”

  “Yes, but stay where I can see you.”

  As he went running to the other side of the van, Mr Anderson and Alex finished their conversation and parted, Mr Anderson joining Taron to assist with the luggage, while Alex came over to stand beside me.

  “I asked Anderson not to say anything,” he said quietly. He didn’t explain, but I knew what he meant.

  “Thanks. He doesn’t mind?”

  “No, not at all. I just told him you didn’t want him to know until you had a chance to talk to him yourself. Sorry, I know that isn’t the plan, but I was worried anything else would seem odd or raise questions. But he said he understands, and promised to keep quiet. He’s a good man, you don’t need to worry.”

  “Thank you,” I said again, truly grateful that he was willing to do this for me.

  “No problem,” he said. “Though I should warn you, there is one person that I had to tell so that you would have a room ready for you while you’re here. I gave her the same explanation that I gave Anderson, so there won’t be an issue, I promise.”

  “It’s fine, don’t worry,” I assured him with a smile, hating that he actually looked guilty. “I understand.”

  “And sorry,” he added, giving me a sympathetic smile, “about what he said.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, its fine.” I shrugged. “He meant well.”

  “He did, but just to warn you, you’ll probably get that quite a bit at first. You do… well, you do look a lot like him.”

  “Really?” I asked, a bit taken aback. “That’s weird, I didn’t used to.” But then, I guess a lot can change in ten years.

  “But anyway,” he said in less hushed tone, “this is it.”

  As he gestured I took my first real look at our surroundings. We had pulled up in front of a large gray stone building that looked to be as ancient as the ground it was built
on, while still being in remarkable condition. There were several other similar looking buildings scattered nearby, all with the same stately elegance. I turned to look down the road we had arrived on, and saw a large gate that appeared to be wrought iron, about a quarter mile back. It was connected to a high wall on either side of it that ran off in opposite directions, probably encompassing the entire campus. Everything, from the stone battlements of the buildings to the beautiful landscaping, had a strange look of nobility and grace to it. It was as if the campus itself was aware of some proud, ancient secret that we mere mortals were not privy to. Even the gray evening sky hung above us like a misty canopy, casting a shadow over the grounds that was haunting yet lovely at the same time.

  “What do you think?” Alex asked, as I was taking it all in.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  As I turned back to examine the main building we had parked in front of, something yellow caught my eye. A young woman with bright blond hair was bounding down the large front steps with a huge smile on her face.

  “You’re here, you’re here, you’re here!” she squealed, as she came barreling towards us.

  “That’s Chloe,” Alex informed me, “the one I had to tell about you. She is one of our graduates. She’s been… ooff!” He was cut off as Chloe slammed into him, throwing her arms around his waist in the process. Why I suddenly had the urge to throw her off of him, I had no idea.

  OK, maybe I had some idea…

  She released Alex and began chattering a mile a minute, in a thick Irish accent, “I’m so glad you’re back! I’ve been waiting all day! Is this her? It has to be her! Hi.” She skipped over to me and grabbed both my hands. “I’m Chloe Quinn, it’s so nice to meet you!”

  “Chloe,” Alex said rolling his eyes, embarrassed, “take a breath.”

  “Sorry,” she mouthed, sliding away from me, and trying to look casual.

  She was a good six inches shorter than me, and had a fuller figure while not being overly large, with more freckles spread over her nose and cheeks than I’d ever seen on any one person. In any event, she seemed sweet as could be and totally harmless. Though why she was so excited to see me, I couldn’t figure.