Ava fought the urge to snatch it away, instead watching as he took a bite.
“S’good,” he said and licked his lips. “Try it.”
Ava took a piece, offering some to Emma and Audrey before taking a bite. The skin crackled, and juice slipped out the corner of her mouth before she caught it on her thumb.
“Does it taste like your mom’s?” Audrey asked, her green eyes appraising.
Ava took another bite, swallowing before she answered. “It does. It . . . is, isn’t it?” She couldn’t believe what she was asking.
“I think so.” Audrey took a bite, nodding in approval.
“But . . . how?”
Emma finished her chicken and tossed the bone over the fence before wiping her fingers on her jeans. “You manifested it.”
“Manifested? Like . . .” She waved a hand in the air. “Abracadabra? Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat?”
Caleb laughed. “No. Like, you realigned the atoms around you to create your mother’s fried chicken.”
Ava’s mouth dropped open. “But—but that’s impossible!”
“Rare,” Audrey said, holding up a finger and eyeing the chicken. “But not impossible.”
Ava’s mind raced with the possibilities as she gnawed on a chicken wing. She stopped mid-gnaw and asked, “How does it work?”
“I don’t really know,” Caleb said, reaching for another piece. “I’ve only met one guy years ago who could do it, but all he could manifest were ice cubes.”
“Ice cubes?”
“Yeah. He could pick water atoms out of the air and condense them.” Caleb took the plate from Ava and set it down before her. “Nothing this complicated, though. This is . . . well, it’s extraordinary is what it is.”
“You think you can do it again?” Emma asked, rolling over until she was lying on her stomach, her chin propped on her fists.
“I have no idea.” Ava couldn’t take her eyes off the half-empty plate. “I don’t know how I did it in the first place.”
“Well, if it’s like shifting, it’s a matter of visualization,” Caleb said as he switched into teaching mode once again. “You were thinking about your mom’s chicken. Your memories must be particularly vivid—maybe that helped.”
“It’s like using your Race sight.” Audrey leaned forward to emphasize her words. “Try to see all the details. Look within as you imagine it.”
“You also seemed pretty relaxed,” Emma said. “Don’t think too hard about it.”
Ava took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Remember. Focus. Look within. Relax. Got it.” She lay back down in the grass, laced her fingers together over her stomach, and closed her eyes. After a moment, she popped one back open. “What should I try?” she asked Caleb.
He shrugged. “Maybe try to make the chicken disappear?”
“Disappear?” Ava frowned. “Isn’t that the opposite of manifesting?”
“Not really.” Emma shifted her weight to one hand, waving the other dramatically. “You’re just putting the atoms back where they were.”
Ava wrinkled her nose. “Just like that.”
“Just like that.” Emma frowned. “Well, except for the pieces we ate.”
She looked to Audrey as if wondering if the pieces in their stomachs would disappear, too, but the other woman shrugged. Apparently, this was new to all of them.
Caleb crawled over to sit by Ava’s shoulder. “Don’t overthink it,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder.
She could feel his gift mingling with hers, boosting it, and she sighed into his touch.
“Imagine the spot where the plate is,” Audrey said. “Then imagine it . . . gone.”
“Gone?”
“Gone.”
“Okay.” Ava sighed, closing her eyes again and ignoring her persistent headache. “I’ll try.”
In the end, it wasn’t as difficult as Ava thought it would be. It only took about half an hour before she was able to make the chicken disappear . . . and reappear . . . and finally transform it into a football, of all things.
She found she could only manifest things she had personal experience with—things she could imagine in precise detail. She tried, for example, to manifest a copy of Moby Dick, but although the cover looked realistic, the pages were covered with gibberish.
It excited her, though, to explore her new abilities. In addition to the manifesting, her telekinesis had strengthened as much as her body, and Ava’s control had grown exponentially. By midafternoon, she found herself standing in the middle of the training field, weight blocks and pieces of the obstacle course whirling in the air around her. She laughed, her arms spread wide, manifesting balls and chairs and whatever popped into her mind. Her gift surged forth, and it felt like it swept out to encompass everything around her.
“Ava!” Caleb shouted.
She was vaguely aware of a pulsing in her head—the headache wouldn’t go away, but she couldn’t be bothered with it. She spotted a bench across the field and picked it up into the air, stacking it on top of a pyramid of weight blocks. She heard a rattling sound and realized the fence surrounding the training field was vibrating—the roof of the common building, no, the building itself shaking as well.
“Ava, stop!” Caleb ducked under a flying rock and ran toward her, but she barely noticed.
The ground quaked beneath her feet, and she looked down in surprise as a narrow fissure opened up beneath her. Power rushed through her, lifting her off the ground, her toes barely brushing the grass as the earth cracked beneath them.
Caleb slammed into her, grabbing her around the hips and tackling her to the ground.
With her concentration broken, the blocks and boulders fell to the ground and the tremors stopped abruptly. Ava’s breath grew harsh in her ears—now that everything else was silent—her chest heaving with every inhale, her skin tingling with the aftershocks of her power.
“Holy—” She sat up, untangling herself from Caleb. “Did you see that? It was incredible!”
“Ava—”
“I felt so amazing . . . so alive—”
“Ava!”
She blinked at Caleb, confused at his look of concern, a similar expression on Audrey’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you all right?” Audrey asked.
“Of course I am. I’m great! I don’t understand—”
Caleb cut her off with a look. “Ava, look around.”
She did, then, getting to her feet and turning in a slow circle. The training field was . . . well, a mess, actually—rocks, balls, and various other things were scattered haphazardly around, the bench overturned and lying on a broken section of fence. She spotted Emma watching from a distance, half hiding behind a storage shed; the shed itself was slightly crooked, one wall crumpled by a wayward rock. Her eyes dropped to the cracks in the ground, for the first time realizing the extent of the damage she’d wrought.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I—I didn’t realize.”
“You’re bleeding,” Caleb said quietly, handing her a handkerchief.
She pressed it to her nose, a headache suddenly pounding behind her temples. “I don’t feel so good,” she mumbled, dropping down to sit on the grass while she put her head between her knees.
Gideon and Tyra burst through the gate, followed by a half dozen armed Guardians.
“What in the world happened?” Gideon shouted as he stepped around an upended weight block with its corner stuck into the ground. “We thought it was an earthquake at first.”
“No, no earthquake,” Audrey said. “Believe it or not, that was Ava.”
“I’m sorry.” Ava started to get up but sat down heavily again, overcome by dizziness. “I’ll fix it. I can fix it.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Gideon asked, crouching down next to Caleb.
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s nothing,” Ava said, rubbing at her temples. “It’s normal. Emma said it’s probably an aftereffect of the block. It’ll be fine.”
Emma had finally left her hiding place and stood on the edge of the circle, and they all looked to her for confirmation. “It should go away as she gains more control,” she said.
“See?” Ava tried to get up again, leaning heavily on Caleb. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I just need more practice.”
“I think that’s enough practice for the day,” Caleb said, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“But I should clean up—”
“It can wait,” he said.
Gideon reached out to touch her shoulder. “Caleb’s right. You should get something to eat and rest. We can deal with all of this tomorrow.”
At the mention of food, Ava’s stomach growled. The few bites of chicken had long since worn off and she was tired and hungry, so she didn’t put up a fuss. She let Caleb take her into the kitchen, fix her a sandwich with a side of R-cubes, and tuck her into bed.
She fell asleep almost immediately, too exhausted to notice when he left the room.
“Got a minute?”
When Gideon looked up from his computer, Caleb entered his office, taking in the sparse furnishings and simple metal table and chairs with a disinterested glance.
“How’s Ava?” Gideon asked, pushing the laptop aside and folding his hands over a pile of maps and papers on the tabletop.
Caleb rubbed at his eyes and drew a heavy breath. “I don’t know.”
“Did the R-cubes help?”
“She said they did.”
“But?”
“I think she was lying. Or she didn’t want me to worry.”
Gideon waved toward an empty chair, and Caleb hesitated only a moment before sitting down.
He was tired, he had to admit. The past few days—weeks, really—had taken a toll that was catching up to him. He never thought he’d be sitting with his father, of all people, about to pour out his thoughts and worries. But really, there were very few options. Tiernan. No, not going to happen. Tiernan wasn’t really a talk-out-your-feelings kind of guy. Emma thought he was overreacting and said Ava would be fine. She just needed time. It made sense, but he couldn’t help worrying. Still, he wasn’t exactly sure how to start the conversation.
“She’s very powerful.”
Gideon huffed out a laugh. “That’s putting it mildly. From the state of the training field, I’d say she’s one of the most powerful people I’ve ever met. And that’s saying a lot.”
Caleb cleared his throat and scooted closer to the desk. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You’ve seen it all, pretty much. But have you ever . . . it seems like there’s something . . . wrong, doesn’t it?”
“You mean the nosebleed.”
“It’s more than that,” Caleb replied, unsure exactly what he meant. “There’s just something wrong. Her gift—it feels . . . too much, maybe? I don’t even know.”
Gideon eyed Caleb. “You’ve bonded with her.”
Caleb flushed, not meeting his eyes. “To an extent, yes.” This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his estranged father. Still, he couldn’t see an alternative.
“And her gift feels wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Caleb stood up quickly, the chair scooting back along the floor in his haste. “It feels . . . different.”
“Well, that’s understandable. The block—”
“It’s not just the block,” he said. “If it was only that, I wouldn’t be so concerned.” He paced a few steps and back again. “She got a headache.”
Gideon sat back, crossing his arms. “Really.”
“I think it was worse than she let on. And there are the nosebleeds.”
“Nosebleeds? As in more than one?”
Caleb nodded. “One when Emma initially lifted the block. Another today.”
Gideon seemed to consider that as he ran a finger idly over a map on the table. “What does Emma say? She’s young, but she really has more experience with this than any of us.”
“She’s lifted other blocks and says it’s normal.”
“You disagree.”
Caleb sat back down and adjusted his chair so he could lean forward on the table. “What do you think? Like you said, you’ve met a lot of people—Race, Half-Breeds—have any of them had headaches after using their gifts? Nosebleeds?”
Gideon puffed out a breath. “Well, no. But Ava’s kind of a unique situation.” He propped his elbows on the table, his fingers laced against his lips. “If she’s part of this Rogue conspiracy, basically bred to be some kind of super Race, it could account for the problems she’s having.”
Caleb’s heart sank. It was what he’d been thinking as well but was too afraid to put it into words. “You think she’s in danger?”
“It’s too soon to say that, I think. Maybe Emma’s right. It could pass.”
“So what do we do?”
He turned back to his laptop and clicked a few keys. “I’ve put out some feelers. There are some out there who might know what’s going on—or at least more than I do. We can run some tests.”
“She’ll love that.”
“Well, she’ll love this even more,” Gideon said with a wry twist of his mouth. “Like I said, we can run some tests, but we’re not set up to do much more than the basics here. If she doesn’t improve, you’ll have to go to someone with more resources.”
It was irritating how Gideon kept putting Caleb’s fears in front of him—stating what he already knew but didn’t want to face. “You mean the Council. Ava will never agree to that.”
“She might not have a choice.” Gideon stood up, rounded the table, and leaned on the edge next to Caleb. “Look, you don’t have to do anything right now. We can help her train, keep an eye on her, like I said—run a few tests and see if we can figure out the headaches. Hopefully, in time, she’ll be fine.”
“And then there are the Rogues.”
Gideon laughed humorlessly. “And then there are the Rogues. Yes. But, given Ava’s little demonstration, it seems we have a pretty good weapon in our corner if it comes to that.”
“She’s not a weapon,” Caleb said with an irritated glance.
“I know she’s important to you, son—Caleb,” he said when Caleb stiffened. “But given what you’ve told me about the Rogue plan—and seeing with my own eyes what she can do?” He exhaled heavily, a concerned frown on his face.
“I’m beginning to think a weapon is exactly what she is.”
Chapter 14
Ava wasn’t certain what woke her. She jerked a little, disoriented for a moment until the feeling of warmth along her back and the arm wrapped around her waist reminded her of where she was. Something was off, though, and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Slipping quietly from the cozy bed, she tucked the blankets back around Caleb and went to the window to peer through the metal blinds.
Night had fallen, the full moon high in the sky and casting the area in a cool, blue glow. Ava’s eyes swept the grounds, searching for—she didn’t really know, but something. She felt unsettled, waiting . . .
There.
Movement off to the left caught her attention, and she had to move over to the edge of the window and press her cheek flat against the wall to see what it was.
“Emma?” she whispered.
What is Emma doing outside at this time of night?
Ava watched the girl walk purposefully into the forest until she lost sight of her in the trees. Biting her lip, Ava felt for her gift, her instincts on high alert and urging her to act. To do something. In a quiet rush, she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her coat, and left the room, with Caleb sleeping peacefully behind her.
She hurried out of the building, no one awake to intercept her now that the immediate Rogue threat had passed, and jogged in Emma’s direction, entering the forest where she’d seen the girl disappear. She kept to a narrow path, unsure what else to do—unsure what she was doing at all, if she were to be perfectly honest—simply following the flutter of Emma’s gift, which felt familiar now that Ava had b
ecome so intimately acquainted with it.
Ava walked deeper into the forest, the branches overhead cutting off the light from the moon, but she had no problem seeing, her vision sharp and clear, even in the darkness. A flash of red—Emma’s coat—caught her eye, and Ava quickened her steps, feeling an urgency she couldn’t quite explain. The brush grew thick and tangled, the path barely visible, and she fought her way through, ducking under branches and stepping over fallen logs. Her instincts led her to a twisted mass of branches—almost a wall of greenery—and with a determined breath she shoved her way through, stumbling as she came out the other side.
Brushing off her clothes, she straightened to find Emma standing in the middle of a small clearing, her hands tucked into her red parka. The girl smiled as if she’d been expecting her.
“Emma? What are you doing out here?” Her breath drifted through the clearing on the breeze, carrying her words.
“Waiting for you.”
“Waiting for—” Ava took a few steps closer, a strange tingling sensation starting at her toes and slowly drifting up. “Why?”
“To help you, of course.” Emma’s mismatched eyes grew dark, her pupils growing to consume all but a sliver of green in one eye, and the other, completely black.
Ava could feel a prodding at her gift, a gentle tug. The tingle grew stronger, and warmth suffused her body.
“Help me . . . what?” Her whisper floated through the clearing as her power responded to Emma’s call, filling her, up and out . . . reaching into her surroundings.
“That’s it,” the girl said, encouraging her. “That’s it. Let it go.”
Ava’s gift swelled, flashing through her like a wildfire, and instead of trying to contain it, she let it flow—out from her fingertips and down into the ground beneath her. It burst forth from her skin, invisible but hot and electrifying, filling the clearing and not stopping.
How far can it go?
In response, the rocks and branches around her flew into the air and began to circle above the clearing. Emma walked toward her slowly, her eyes still focused on Ava, who could feel the girl boosting her gift, prompting her . . . urging her to keep going . . . to push it as much as she could. To test her limits.
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