by K. M. Fahy
“You’re learning to make the lightning do something it doesn’t want to do,” he continued, walking back to his spot across the yard. “Right now, the bands are in its way. But when we remove them, it will be your mind. It’s just like lifting weights.”
“I know, I know,” Kitieri sighed. “But lifting weights is easier.”
Haldin smirked. “Much easier. Again.”
Kitieri barely caught the electricity, throwing it to the ground.
“Again.”
The lightning whined as she forced it to move, raking down her arms like jagged claws. As it reached her fingertips to meet Haldin’s element, it surged with a sudden, intense burn.
Kitieri yelped, pulling her hands back, and the electricity threw her against the wall again. Haldin jogged to her, bending down on one knee.
“What happened that time?” he asked.
Kitieri lifted her hands to examine them, before lifting her face to the breeze. “There’s a Strike coming,” she said, pushing to her feet. “Soon. Really soon.”
With a curt nod, Haldin walked to where his Gadget rested against the Church wall.
“Remember what I said yesterday,” he called to her.
Kitieri nodded, turning at the sound of Haldin’s boots coming closer. “No, you shouldn’t—”
“Give me your hand,” he ordered.
“Haldin, I told you there’s a Strike coming any second. You shouldn’t be this close to me.”
“Your hand.”
With a deep frown, she complied. Haldin pulled his keys from his belt, sorting through them until he held the tiny pin between his fingers.
Kitieri ripped her arm away. “No, Haldin. I’m not ready for that.”
“You are.”
“No, I’m not. I could kill you!”
“You won’t. Look at me.” He grasped both of her shoulders so tight that she winced in pain. “Look at me.”
His pale eyes reflected her panicked expression, and he loosened his grip.
“It’s time to take the next step,” he said. “I told you this would have to be fast.”
Kitieri trembled as the bands fell away from both her wrists, leaving damp rings of sweat that cooled in the wind. Haldin backed away, returning the keys to his belt.
“Just remember what we talked about,” he said. “You are the one in charge. Show it no fear.”
The first warning pulled a hoarse gasp from Kitieri’s throat as her lightning thrashed. Even with the other three bands still at work, the element raced up and down her arms, throwing itself against her closed fists.
“Good.” Haldin nodded, circling her with a wide berth. “No sparks.”
Kitieri closed her eyes, releasing a long breath through pursed lips. The familiar pain thrummed in her chest, wailing to be set free.
Another deep breath. The second warning was coming, and it would try her control.
“No fear. No emotion,” Haldin coached. “You are a stone pillar, cold and empty. Give it nothing to consume.”
Just as Haldin had made her practice relentlessly over the past four days, Kitieri schooled her mind to emptiness. Her thoughts slowed along with her heart rate, and she felt the inner burn begin to cool.
The second warning stoked the fire, and her lightning screamed anew. Kitieri doubled over, gritting her teeth and pressing her fists into her chest to stop the sparks from flying.
“Not with your body,” Haldin called. “With your mind. Take the control!”
Kitieri sucked in a gulp of cool air, forcing herself to stand up straight. It hurt so badly… did he have any idea how much this hurt?
Eyes squeezed closed, she wrestled with the lightning. She pushed against it with her mind, squashing it down with the heavy weight of nothingness.
No fear. No emotion.
“Yes! That’s it,” Haldin said, but she barely heard him anymore. Her mind felt a thousand miles away, drifting in an endless black sea. Here, nothing burned.
The third warning shattered her illusion, fanning the flames to a roaring height. Even as the lightning threatened to burn her alive, Kitieri stood steadfast.
You are mine. I control you.
“Fantastic!” Haldin’s voice echoed through the abyss of her thoughts. Though her lightning bucked and seethed, its attention turned to her instead of the looming Strike. Her element quivered and hummed, awaiting her direction as the eye of the Strike locked onto her.
The Blue Killer roared down from the sky, jaws open and fangs poised to kill, and Kitieri’s element connected with the unimaginable power as she lifted her hand to the sky.
Go back!
Before it could envelop her in its hateful vortex, the Strike was gone.
A welcome chill rushed through her, soothing the worst of the burn, and her element returned contentedly to its docile state. A sharp pop made her jump, and she turned to find Haldin clapping.
“Absolutely incredible,” he said, shaking his head as he approached. “You were right, Kitieri. You do repel it. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life—and not one spark out of you! How’d it feel?”
Kitieri laughed, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. “Terrible,” she replied. “It hurts like a bitch.”
“That part will get better, I promise,” Haldin said. “The more efficient you get at controlling its reaction to the Strikes, the more your element will learn to rely on your commands instead of its natural instinct.”
“I hope it gets better fast, because that sucks.”
Haldin chuckled and clapped her on the back. “You need water.”
As he made for the Church door, Kitieri called after him. “Aren’t you going to put the bands back on?”
Haldin turned with a crooked grin. “No. You’ve graduated.”
Chapter 12
The nagging, persistent tingle dragged Kitieri from the depths of sleep, and she rolled onto her back with a groan.
“Seriously?” she grumbled, staring up at the ceiling. Ever since Haldin had removed her wristbands two days ago, the lightning had been testing the remaining three, finding the most inopportune times to prod her. Its burn nibbled at her fingertips, restless and anxious.
Kitieri closed her eyes again. She wouldn’t be able to sleep through a Strike. She needed to get up and find a safe place in case her control slipped, but her eyelids felt so heavy…
“Kitieri?”
She bolted upright in bed to find Jera standing in her loose white nightgown at the door.
“Hey,” she breathed, “what are you doing awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Jera mumbled, wrapping her arms about herself. Kitieri smiled and patted the edge of the mattress.
“What’s wrong?” She smoothed Jera’s wild, tangled hair as she climbed onto the bed and snuggled into Kitieri’s shoulder.
“I had a bad dream,” she said into the thick quilt.
“About what?”
“The lightning came, and then you were gone.”
Jera nestled closer, and Kitieri put her arm around her. “Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered. “The lightning’s not going to get me, or you. I promise.”
“And Ashes was gone, too.”
“Who’s Ashes?”
Jera rolled over to shoot Kitieri an annoyed glare. “My horse, remember?”
“Right.” Kitieri grinned. “I remember. Nothing is going to happen to me or Ashes, okay?” Jera shifted back, cuddling closer to her with a yawn.
“I just feel like something really bad is going to happen,” she whispered.
Kitieri pressed her lips into a line, stroking Jera’s hair until her breathing evened. As her quiet snores filled the dark room, Kitieri gritted her teeth against the rising pain in her hands, creeping down her arms as the charge intensified in the air.
Carefully, she inched her arm out from under Jera’s head, settling her on the pillow as she pulled free. As much as she wished to stay, drifting back to sleep with her sister nestled against her, she had to leave.
The lightning called.
Kitieri slipped from the bed and padded to the dresser, pulling out one of the soft black shirts the officers wore under their jackets and her uniform pants. She left the jacket hanging on its rack; she didn’t plan on running into anyone except maybe the sentries on guard tonight.
Hand on the doorframe to her room, Kitieri turned back to watch Jera’s sleeping form.
“I love you,” she whispered. The girl stirred, but did not open her eyes, and Kitieri left with a melancholy grin.
She crossed the common room of their apartment, skirting the plush chair and its little round table on the way to the door. The bolt slammed back with a loud click and Kitieri froze, face twisting. Snores still emanated from both rooms, and accompanied by the door’s soft whine, Kitieri slipped out into the hallway. The burn in her arms now welled in her chest, writhing impatiently.
I’m working on it, okay?
Dark stairs led her down toward the main floor, lit by the faint blue light of the moon streaming through the arched windows at every landing. Halfway down one flight of steps, a sharp clink met her ears, and Kitieri turned to peer through the shadows. She ducked her head, leaning sideways, but caught no further movement around the corner.
She remembered the flap of the dark cloak through the driving rain one week ago, and her brows furrowed. The same feeling tingled along her skin now—the feeling that she was being watched. Not just watched… followed.
Kitieri backed down the stairs with deliberate steps that rang off the stone walls, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pursuer. But upon her final step onto the landing, her sole companion remained the heavy silence of the fortress around her. The lightning flared in her chest again, and Kitieri turned to continue on with a low growl.
Two more flights of stairs brought her to the spacious Sanctuary, and Kitieri’s eyes rested on the place she’d stood eight days ago, plotting murder by candelabra with the red officer’s knife at her back. She felt the ghost of her old life lingering there in the shadows—a starving, terrified, broken girl facing death with no way to save the ones she loved. That girl had died that day, Kitieri realized… and she had no idea who’d taken her place.
She clung to the outer wall of the Sanctuary, running her knuckles along the backs of the long wooden benches as she hid in the lamps’ shadows. Their light was dim in the late hour, battling the blue of the moonlight filtering in through the tall frosted windows that lined the cavernous chamber.
Kitieri glanced down at her clenched fists, fighting her element for control. Though she would have laughed at the thought six days ago, she missed the security of the oran bands around her wrists. Haldin had been right—the longer she was out of lock, the more deadly her lightning became, and that scared her. The training was helping her control, but the element was still so unpredictable. So powerful.
Kitieri’s lightning pulsed, exploding through her body with the first warning, and she winced, ducking down behind one of the benches.
“Not with your body. With your mind.”
As she forced herself to stand, one of the Church doors creaked open, and she dropped back down behind the bench. What a great time for a guard change.
A single pair of footsteps echoed through the Sanctuary, and Kitieri frowned. Where was the other officer on duty? Where was their relief?
She peeked over the bench, squinting through the hazy moonlight. The young man’s clean-shaven face looked unfamiliar, and his black clothing masked his movements in the dim light. The only feature that stood out was the Gadget on his back.
He wasn’t one of theirs, Kitieri was sure: where his lack of familiarity did not damn him, his movements finished the job. He cast about the Sanctuary as if ghosts lurked in every shadow, ready to drag him to the hells, and Kitieri dipped lower in her hiding place.
This is wrong.
The heat and pain flared again with the second warning, thrashing against its bodily cage, and she bit back an anguished groan as her insides burned. Her thoughts tumbled through her mind, bouncing off each other in chaos as her lightning ran rampant.
Control. No fear. No emotion.
A bead of sweat ran down her nose, dripping onto the polished stone floor as she huddled in a tense crouch. In a moment, it would all be over…
Just as she braced against the third warning, a loud creak split the silence and Kitieri twisted on her boot heels to face the source of the noise—the side door through which she’d come. Sneaking from the shadows, appearing tiny in the large doorframe, was a little girl in a soft white nightgown.
Jera.
Heat rushed to Kitieri’s face, and the lightning fled from her mind as the stranger pulled a wicked dagger from his belt. He was almost at the door, almost on top of her, and Kitieri was too far away.
“Jera, get back!” she called, vaulting over the bench. Jera’s eyes flew open wide as she spotted the curved blade glinting in the moonlight, and the man turned a horrified look on Kitieri.
Even as she sprinted for him, running hard down the center aisle, the man’s eyes flicked to Jera’s crouched, trembling form. He lunged, reaching for the girl’s wrist as she screamed, and Kitieri threw her hand out.
“Don’t touch her!”
Just as her arm reached full extension, the Blue Killer struck outside and ripped the lightning from Kitieri’s hand.
The blue flash through the windows mingled with the blinding white bolt as it tore through the Sanctuary. As the searing heat left Kitieri’s body, its hollow void filled with a cold, black dread.
It was gone. She couldn’t call it back.
Pitch black fell around her, thick and heavy in the aftermath of the lightning. Silence roared in her ears, and the only evidence of her consciousness came as the smell of charred flesh.
No. Oh gods, no.
“Jera?” she called, frozen in place. She blinked repeatedly, trying to force her vision’s return to no avail. A soft whimper reached her ears, and Kitieri broke her paralysis to stumble forward. Her sister’s faint outline came into view, shaking violently.
“Kitieri.”
The small voice shattered Kitieri’s heart, and she lurched forward to pull the girl’s thin, quivering frame against her.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into her sister’s hair, rocking back and forth. Jera’s arms snaked around her neck, returning the embrace.
“Is he gone?” Jera whispered. With a shaking breath, Kitieri turned her head to the figure on the floor, vaguely recognizable as a human being, and squeezed her eyes closed.
“Yeah,” she whispered back. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Jera pulled away, examining her hands and body. “I don’t think so.”
“Thank the gods,” Kitieri muttered, holding Jera tight to her once more.
Both Church doors flew open, and the sound of boots on the stone floor filled the Sanctuary. Kitieri glanced over her shoulder, and registered the gray uniforms in the low light.
Great, now the sentries show.
“Gods, it stinks in here,” came a female voice as the lighter pair of footsteps slowed. The heavier pair of boots approached behind her, and Kitieri released Jera with a sigh, standing to face the officer. As she turned, her entire body tensed.
“Well,” Jorid drawled, emerging into a patch of moonlight. “I told them you’d kill someone sooner or later.”
Kitieri squared her shoulders.
“And where have you been?” she asked, not bothering to soften the steely edge in her tone. “If you’d done your job, I wouldn’t have had to do it for you.”
Jorid’s expression went thunderously dark, and his shoulders hunched forward.
“I was doing my job,” he growled, “investigating a disturbance at the south gate. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Who’s this?” The woman poked the blackened remains with the end of her spear, knocking off flakes of charred flesh, and Kitieri looked away.
“He was one of Histan’s,” she said. Bi
le rose in her throat, and she fought the hard gag reflex that threatened to choke her.
“Where’s your proof?” Jorid asked. Kitieri cut him a hard glare.
“Because from what I can see,” he went on, “you made sure to destroy any hope of identification by burning this poor soul to a crisp.”
A myriad of thoughts and possible responses flitted to Kitieri’s lips before she banished each and every one, and her blood started to run cold. She couldn’t prove anything, and this man would twist anything that came out of her mouth. Since Corte and his buddies had been suspended on her account, she’d faced a large-scale silent treatment from many of her fellow officers, and Jorid had been increasingly hateful with every passing interaction. This was the chance he’d been lying in wait to catch—his chance to push her down like he’d wanted to the first day they’d met.
The woman’s spear clanged as it hit metal, and she gasped.
“A PCR?” she muttered. “How…?”
Cold realization slithered into Kitieri’s gut. “It’s fake.”
“What was that?” The woman turned to her.
“Check the cintra,” Kitieri said more clearly. “It isn’t real.”
“That’s enough of your bullshit, Manon,” Jorid said, his gruff voice cutting across Kitieri’s. “I’m putting you under a hold to await the Board’s judgement.”
A chill raked through Kitieri at his last word. “You’re arresting me?” she asked. “You can’t do that—”
“I can.” Jorid cut her off, grabbing her arms. “You’re a known danger to the community. The Board will thank me.”
As he forced her around to snap Oran cuffs on her wrists behind her back, Kitieri came face to face with Jera.
“What’s going on?” the girl whimpered.
“It’s okay.” Kitieri tried to force a smile even as Jera’s eyes brimmed with tears, lip trembling.
“Don’t go away,” she begged. Kitieri bit into her lip hard enough to taste blood, and she blinked away the tears that clouded her vision.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Jera cried out as Jorid pushed Kitieri toward the door, clinging to the tail of her shirt. The woman pulled her back, prying her fingers from the fabric as Jera’s wails echoed through the Sanctuary.
