“Did Yoda tell you not to leave?” Daniel asked.
“Did you just make a Star Wars reference for my sake?” I asked.
“Yep,” he agreed.
“That’s sweet,” I said.
“Well, did she?” he asked, a mischievous smile on his lips.
“No, she didn’t,” I admitted.
“So, let’s go somewhere with warm water,” Daniel said.
“Together?” I asked.
His smile turned wicked.
“Any ideas of a place?” I asked.
I held out my hand and his thoughts of a place where we could shower in warmth and privacy filled my brain. It was his penthouse in New York. The location firmly in my mind, our bodies merged in to the darkness and beyond.
I was almost late to meet the historian that night. Being with Daniel made me lose track of the time...it was another way of thinking of nothing, beyond him. When I got to her cave, she was waiting for me. She was standing over the rose, looking at it with a lost expression on her face. When she looked up, her eyes were no longer ‘lost.’ She was serious – and had the look of someone who had been disobeyed. The look in her eyes told me she knew I had left.
“Don’t leave again,” she warned. “Not until I give you permission to do so.”
I frowned at her command but didn’t argue with her. I figured there was a good reason for it – at least, I was trusting there was. That faith made me stifle my normal rebellious tendencies.
“Okay,” I said.
She went over to the area with her books and picked up the sword I had given her. The silver glinted back at me as her hand touched the metal – it was the glint of coming violence.
“You’ve thought of nothing, now you must think of everything,” she said.
She didn’t give me time to respond. She swung at my head. I ducked. A small piece of my hair was cut by the sword. I stepped back.
“Are you crazy?!” I asked.
She didn’t reply. She swung at me again. This time, the sword caught on my shirt. It tore the fabric and came within inches of my stomach. I moved out of the way and pulled my knife from my boot. The size of the knife felt ridiculous compared to her sword, but it was all I had. It would have to do. The look in her eyes suggested she would hurt me if that’s what it took to get her lesson across. All I knew was that I was not eager to be stabbed by a sword older than the United States. She swung the sword again; this time I blocked the sword with my dagger and tried to follow through with a jab at her face. She hit me with her spare hand and sent me flying on to my back. She didn’t give me time to catch my breath, she moved in for the kill. I had to roll to avoid the downward slash of the sword. As I found my feet again, my dagger held low in front of me, my knees bent, she had more advice.
“Do not just think of the attack,” she said. “Get a feel for what I am going to do. Use the talents you have used in the past. Do not limit yourself to the physical. Move before I move. Don’t just react.”
As she said it, she made another jab for my lower body. I jumped out of the way of the sword and tried to do as she asked. I tried to focus on fire, on strength, on moving through the darkness, but all I could think of was her sword and not letting it find me. It was a singular focus I had a hard time letting go of. I did my best, but my best was not good enough. An hour later, the historian finally stopped trying to kill me. She lowered her sword.
My lip was bleeding, my whole body was hurting and I had a sharp, throbbing headache. Sweat covered my body; I was in desperate need of another shower. The historian’s eyes were slightly disappointed as she looked at me.
“I had expected more,” she said. “Now sit, and think of nothing.”
I groaned, but did as she asked. I sat on the hard floor and stared at the white rose in front of me.
It took me the rest of the day to clear my mind from the fight and the disappointment I held in my brain at letting the historian down. I thought mastering her lessons would be simple. I had thought it was just about doing whatever she said and working hard. I was wrong. I lacked certain innate abilities; control being one of them. I wasn’t as strong as I had thought.
It was easy to get lost in the doubt and the self-pity, easier than I was used to. But, as I stared at the rose, I promised to not let my limitations get in the way of what we were trying to accomplish. The world depended on it.
Once I had made that choice, letting go was easy. It was still dark, however, before I found the peace of mind to think of ‘nothing.’ My breathing slowed and my mind cleared of the doubt and worry.
“You may go,” the historian said from behind me.
I got up, realizing my knife was still in my hand, and passed her without speaking. I was too tired to talk or ask her how she always knew when my brain was at peace.
Daniel met me outside the cave again. His face was pale in the darkness. I could only vaguely see his features, but I sensed his worry without having to see his face. It was in every shift he made; it made me think something bad had happened.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he lied. “Are you tired?” he asked.
“A bit,” I admitted.
“Alex and Spider started a bonfire, but if you want to rest…” Daniel said.
“I could sit at a bonfire,” I said.
He smiled and took my hand. “I thought you would say that,” he said.
“That’s because you’re a know-it-all,” I said.
His smile grew. He led me to where the others, minus Serenity and Eli, were gathered around a large bonfire, next to the house we had restored. Spider was staring at the flames, while Alex was tending to the fire by adding sticks and branches. Margaret and Jackson were also staring at the fire, but I sensed a different pensiveness on their brains. It wasn’t the same distraction that had Spider’s forehead twisted like a melted truck on pavement, at least. Spider’s problem seemed more personal. Margaret and Jackson were probably feeling the weight of the isolation and the desire to be alone. It was an easy desire to have when they had spent so long wrapped up in our adventure. Reaper sat a bit removed from the others. His dark features were darker with the twilight upon us. The normal happy, teasing I had grown accustomed to around them was gone. The mood around the bonfire reflected their worry; it was repressive and didn’t help my own personal darkness and the fear that I was un-trainable.
“Is this a party or a funeral?” I asked them, stepping in to the flickering light of the fire.
As one, their expressions changed to a more upbeat one. The lie was touching; it was one they endorsed for my benefit alone. It reminded me that they were living in an abandoned farmhouse for me – to stick by my side as I endured the historian’s training. It was a move that didn’t come without sacrifices on their part; especially to Watchers so used to action.
Spider moved over to give Daniel and me room to sit. I sat and looked in to the flames, letting the rhythm of the fire bring its own peace. It was a different peace than thinking of nothing, but peace all the same. The air around us was cool and frosty with the weather, but the fire was warm. It gave off flickering warmth that went straight to my bones. I felt some of the stress of letting the historian down dwindle away. Everything would be okay as long as I could look at the fire and enjoy the good company around me.
“We were just contemplating your face,” Jackson said in response to my question. “It made us a little sad...”
“Ha. Ha,” I said dryly. “You should do stand up.”
“He wouldn’t last,” Daniel said. “He’d kill the first heckler he met.”
“He would,” Alex agreed.
“You should learn to take criticism,” I said.
“By definition what you just said is criticism,” Jackson pointed out. “And, look, you are still alive.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re too lazy to get up and do something about it,” Daniel said.
“I’m all settled in,” Jackson said gesturing at his surro
undings. “Got a babe on my arm, a fire in front of me…no need to ruin a good thing just for a minor irritation.”
Margaret whacked Jackson on the arm at calling her a babe, and we all smiled at his response, which was overdone and more than a little dramatic. He did his best to try to get Margaret to apologize, but she wouldn’t. The others watched their argument, welcoming the distraction. But as I stared at the fire I couldn’t help another familiar feeling that assaulted my senses: time was running out. More than that, it was chasing us. The gentle tick-tick-tick was becoming more rapid, more intense. I had a destiny, but was I ready for it? My heart was full of fear – fear because I didn’t know the answer to that question. I was afraid that there was no answer. Was anyone ever ready for a destiny that had little say in?
Daniel’s hand tightened on mine at the thought, and I realized he could hear me. He was as bothered by the idea as I was. I remembered that he had a fate he was scared of – a vision that hadn’t changed since he had inherited his gift. It was the vision of turning in to a Nightstalker. His destiny – if we could hold true to such lofty terms – was just as unknown as mine was. Only I could prepare for mine; I could train. Daniel had nothing but fear and expectation that he would one day turn in to a monster.
Feeling sobered by the thoughts –and wondering if thinking of ‘nothing’ was turning me morose – I stared at the fire and let the talking of the others surround me. Though their conversation was happy, for my sake, I allowed the dark thoughts. There would be time for happy laughter later – when I was feeling better, when my training was taking hold.
At least, I hoped so.
Chapter 11
Days passed by in a blur of training and activity. As the days passed, the wind stopped being chilly in favor of a fierce cold that cut through anyone brave enough to go outside. The season was changing to winter, just as my body changed with the training.
There was no sleep, despite the historian’s lessons wearing me out. I would not allow my body the weakness. More, I did not want Marcus to hunt in my dreams when I was so determined to improve. Dreaming of him would only sow the seeds of doubt more completely. He would point out how worthless I was – I did not need the extra doubt in my head.
There was no time that I was not thinking about training, even when I was around my friends. It wasn’t just the historian who kept me busy. It was a personal dedication to overcome my limitations, so that I could change the future. Every day was a struggle to be better – to learn the lessons the historian put before me. I did my best to do exactly as she asked, including thinking of everything, thinking of nothing, sparing with her, long runs, lowering and raising my mental shield, testing the limits of what my shield could do – I pushed my body to the limit. It was a limit that increased every single day. I was growing stronger; the days counting down to my birthday made me more confident that the change would mean something. I could feel it as much as the training.
My first successful attempt at using my skills while fighting was an accident. I had my dagger, while historian fought with the sword. She moved around me in a fluid dance of attack, retreat, repeat…I was tired, pushed beyond my limit. I couldn’t move in time. Her sword came toward my face. I was too slow to get out the way in time. I couldn’t block, I couldn’t roll. She would stab me. Instinct took over. I felt the pull of darkness before I realized what I had done. My trip in the darkness was brief. I appeared on the other side of the historian, feeling disoriented. My father’s necklace glowed with dull warmth. Was it the necklace that had brought me in to the dark or my own skill? It was difficult to tell.
The historian didn’t let me have a moment to appreciate the win. She spun and came at me with her sword again. I barely managed to block it in time.
It was impossible to tell if she was pleased with that moment – her face did not give away her emotions – but it made her push me harder. The next time I managed a talent, it was not on accident. It was by force of will. The moment was a turning point for my talents.
Slowly, but surely, I built up a strength I never knew I had and I felt my body and mind change. I was still Clare, but the abilities I had long harbored no longer frightened me; they were no longer foreign. They were a part of me. For the first time in my life, I was learning control; control of my thoughts, emotions, even my abilities. My abilities were no longer a byproduct of fear or anger.
The most free time I had was a couple of hours a day. I used those hours to steal private moments with Daniel and my friends. Whenever I did get a moment free, I noticed the slow decline of my companions’ good cheer. I wasn’t sure if it was the barren landscape or the waiting that was the biggest challenge for them, but their struggle was obvious. I harbored guilt and even tried to convince them on several occasions to go back to the ship, to carry out missions, anything that would bring them some relief from the monotony. They all scoffed at the idea and went back to enduring the weather and the boredom. Spider, more than anybody, seemed to decline in to a state of irritation. He was used to cities and places were things were happening all the time. Not to have a pocket to pick or a house to break in to was something close to torture. Too, I sensed that whatever secret Odette had told him weighed him down as much as the boredom. The weight of it was too much for him to carry. He didn’t mention his burden, but talking to him as the days wore on became as productive as talking to Margaret.
The only two who seemed as determined and as tired as me were Alex and Daniel. I was not sure if they had taken to their own training when I was not around or were wasting all their energy worrying about me. They didn’t say and I didn’t ask. My training had made me unable to focus on them in ways I normally would have.
The days passed into weeks and, before I could catch my breath, it was the morning of my birthday. The training had forced me to not dwell on what was coming – I didn’t have time for it. I only remembered my birthday because of Daniel.
It was barely dawn and the historian had just released me from a training session that had begun the previous evening. Daniel had a smile on his face as he met me at the entrance to the cave.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
“Birthday?” I asked.
“Yes, the day you were born…most people celebrate it. Yours happens to be today. What would you like to do?”
“Oh…” I said. “I don’t want to do anything.”
“Why not?” he asked.
My expression was sarcastic. He knew ‘why not.’ I wasn’t eager to celebrate a day that held so many uncertainties.
“We’re celebrating your day,” he said firmly. “There will be no argument.”
“You can’t make me,” I said.
“Want to bet?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Serenity stepped out of the shadows as we passed a row of buildings. The movement did not startle either of us. I had felt her presence before we had even come close – one of the many benefits of the historian’s training. Awareness of everything all at once was a novelty, but I was learning to enjoy the benefits. Instead of a prickling awareness of being watched, I had learned to pay attention to the way people felt in general. That feeling gave me insight to my surroundings.
Daniel was obviously aware of the same training.
“Speaking of ‘your day’…We need to talk,” Serenity said.
“Oh, are you still around?” I asked.
Serenity smirked. “Patience isn’t normally my strongest of qualities, but I have been patient these past weeks…more than my share.”
“And what have you been so very patient about?” I asked.
“It’s time for you to speak with Odette again. She needs to tell you what you must do to prevent Marcus from ruining our world with his corrupted vision.”
“I already know what I need to do,” I said.
“Really?” Serenity asked.
“Yeah, I was thinking I would find Marcus and fight him to the death,” I said. “Problem solved.”
&nbs
p; Serenity’s expression was playful. She put her hands on her hips in a characteristically seductive fashion.
“And how shall you find him?” Serenity asked. “Do you know something we do not? Do you know what he will do next? Because Odette does…she has seen it.”
Daniel was looking at me for an answer. His expression was neutral. I sensed his disproval of seeing Odette again, but he did not try to persuade me either way. Her information about the historian had been useful, but Odette was still a mystery – her reasons were unknown. He wanted to go another path, one that did not include her, but he was willing to let me make my own decision about my future.
“When does she want to speak with me?” I asked Serenity.
“She said to bring you before your birthday,” Serenity said. “So, I think now would be an appropriate time.”
“Fine,” I agreed. “I should probably talk to…”
“You may go,” the historian said.
She stepped out from a different shadow than the one Serenity had been hiding in, her presence not nearly as noticeable as Serenity’s had been. Daniel and Serenity looked startled, but I had grown accustomed to her sudden appearance.
“Do not speak of me, however, or what you have learned,” the historian continued. “I do not wish that fortune-teller to know how I have trained you.”
“Of course,” I said. “I wasn’t planning on telling her anything.”
“The others will want to come,” Daniel pointed out.
“Odette only wishes to speak with Clare,” Serenity said.
“I don’t care about what she wishes,” Daniel said hatefully.
“We’ll ask them,” I said.
“They’ll say they want to go,” Daniel said.
“Then we’ll all go,” I said.
“It is your choice,” Serenity demurred politely.
“I know,” I replied.
The others did not take long to deliberate. As soon as I told them about Serenity’s request, they all stood as if I had asked them if they wanted to go. Their faces were expectant. It was the expectation of something beyond blowing wind and the creepiness of an abandoned mining town. There was finally movement, a sense of doing something. I also knew that they were expecting me to be the one to take them.
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