by Dawn Jansen
“I know you’re going to give it everything you’ve got, and I do feel safe with you,” she says, trying to calm me down, “but it’s not gonna be just us... Damion and Tristan are a part of our team too, and right now we’re not acting like one at all. There’s no reason the four of us shouldn’t be here right now all bonding together...” She notices the look I’m giving her. “Okay, maybe that’s asking a little too much, but still, we should at the very least all be friends. You know, like you and Tristan used to be?”
She’s right—Tristan and I were good pals before my first Test. Maybe this is something I can get over?
“I’ll try, Mazzy,” I say, taking the plate of grapes from her and placing it back on the desk so I can wrap my arm around her. “Really—I mean it. In the meantime, however, you’ve been nudging your ass against my cock for quite a while now, and I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose,” I add with a grin.
Mazzy gives a faux gasp. “Me? I wouldn’t dare be so bold...” Then she lets the robe fall off her shoulders, revealing her freshly showered breasts just waiting to be sucked on. “Oh dear,” she says in a mock old-fashioned tone, “my robe seems to have fallen down.”
Already I feel my heart beating hard with passion, and I have a feeling that despite everything that happened today, tonight’s going to end on a pretty good note.
Chapter 22
Mazzy
I knew it wasn’t going to be easy juggling three boyfriends, but I guess I underestimated just how complicated everybody’s feelings would be.
It’s been more than a month since I started officially seeing Damion, Tristan, and Paul, and while my powers have grown a ton from the emotional energy they each supply me with, keeping all the boys in check can be a little overwhelming at times. It doesn’t help, of course, that they’re all such confident (well, cocky, let’s be honest), independent, strong-willed guys that are absolutely head-over-heels for me.
I’ve tried nearly everything I could think of to get them to become true friends together, and the farthest I’ve gotten is that they’re willing to all sit together at the same lunch table with me—but even that sometimes ends in them snapping at each other’s throats.
I don’t feel like I’m asking for much, either. A threesome would be nice, of course, but I’d just be happy if we could all hang out together like one big family. What’s more, I know their powers would benefit from the connection too.
As if my boyfriends aren’t enough to keep me worried, I also have to worry about why the Architect called me in for an “unscheduled meeting.” None of the senior students I asked like Crash or Overcharge had ever heard of her doing this, so I have no idea what to expect when I arrive at the big double doors that lead to her office.
All it takes is one light knock and, after I hear a clicking sound, the doors open smoothly on their own. This is the first time I’ve been in here at night time; on all of my previous visits, the Architect has been scribbling away at something on her desk when I walk in, but tonight she’s out on the balcony behind her desk, and a nippy early winter breeze greets me as soon as I step into her office.
“Come here, Mazzy,” the Architect says without turning to me or even moving at all in a voice that somehow sounds very distant.
I make my way across her office, passing by the various taxidermy specimens and gadgets which are now lit by little display lights. The Architect is leaning against the railing of her balcony, and I now notice that she has probably the best view on campus. The woods across from her balcony dip into a slight valley, sinking just low enough to offer the Architect a view of the Atlantic. It looks black and massive, but occasionally the pale moonlight reflects off its incessantly undulating waves.
“It’s time,” she says bluntly.
I’d been expecting this, but it’s still a bit of a shock.
“Okay,” I say, putting my hands in my pockets as the winter air seems to bite a little bit colder after hearing the Architect say that. “I’m ready,” I say confidently.
“But your team isn’t,” she adds quickly, finally turning her head to look at me. “Judging by the results of your recent test chamber simulations, you’re all going to die next week.”
She never was one to mince words, was she? For some reason, I always feel at a loss for what to say when I’m around the Architect.
“You have the strongest pineal activity of any EMP we’ve ever measured, including myself, and yet you’ll probably end up dying in the Test,” she says coldly. “Your relationship metrics are a mess, but we can’t delay the Test any longer. Unless you figure out a way to pull your squad together, all your training here will have been for naught.”
Relationship metrics? I knew they tracked our relationships, but I didn’t realize they really had it down to a science.
“But I’ve tried everything,” I say. “I just can’t get them to cooperate with each other...”
“It’s because the bond they share with you individually is too strong for each of them,” the Architect explains, “so they all see each other as competition instead of companions. You need to find a way to bring them together, and you need to do it within the next seven days.”
It makes sense; my ability to connect with each of my boyfriends on an individual level is fantastic. The problem is between the guys themselves.
“Don’t you have, like, some kind of gadget that can make them get along?” I ask sheepishly.
The cold stare that the Architect gives me—which I can feel even through her sunglasses—reminds me of why I usually stay quiet around her.
“Right,” I say, “I’ll figure it out.”
The Architect turns back to the view and I start making my way out of her office, but the Architect stops me midway.
“A lot of people in the Empowered Bureau have high hopes for you, Mazzy,” she calls to me from the balcony. “Don’t disappoint them.”
━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━
I was originally planning to grab dinner after my meeting with the Architect, but I don’t have any appetite after what she just told me.
Why the hell does the Test have to be life or death anyway? Isn’t that kind of counterintuitive to the whole project of cultivating EMPs? I guess I understand they don’t want any inferior EMPs going out into the field, but still, why am I the one who might get killed because my stupid boyfriends can’t get along?
I fall back onto my bed and let out a big, frustrated sigh. I’ve been racking my brains about what I could possibly do in seven days to suddenly get my boyfriends to trust each other, but none of the ideas I came up with seem feasible.
I even thought of getting somebody like Frankie to link us together psychically, but all that would do is make us understand each other on a logical level—they need to feel that we’re all connected and fighting for the same thing.
Not willing to just give up, I do the one thing I do every time I need to think of a great idea: I paint my nails.
I’ve been so busy with class, training simulations, and dates with my boyfriends that I haven’t painted my nails in a long time, and the acrylic odor of the paint actually brings back some good memories of my time before the Academy. Even though TV, music, and anything else fun is banned at the Academy, it’s actually surprisingly easy to get beauty products here.
I get absorbed in the simple process of dabbing the paint carefully onto my nails. This might be my last week on earth, so I at least want to go out beautiful. I’ve chosen red in honor of my Honda Interceptor that’s been wallowing in the Academy’s garage for the past half year. That’s when I realize the date—December 17. The Academy has to be playing some kind of sick joke scheduling my Test on Christmas Eve.
Christmas has always been a touchy subject for me. While my classmates growing up would all be excited in the weeks following up to Christmas, I’d be lucky if I got even a hair scrunchy from one of the horrible foster families that the state stuck me with, and oftentimes I’d have to watch as my foster siblings opene
d box after box of perfectly wrapped gifts.
As I let the paint on my nails dry, I try to distract myself for a bit by reading the newest Stephen King novel—something about haunted burial grounds—but I can’t focus on anything. The looming threat of the Test and our group’s terrible performance is bothering me too much, so I instead decide to call it an early night and burrow into my covers, hoping to find some comfort in the soft embrace of my bed.
When I wake up tomorrow, it will be six days away from the test, and so far I haven’t thought of any way to bring my guys together. My stupid brain better think of something good while I’m sleeping.
Chapter 23
Mazzy
I take back everything bad I said about my brain—she’s actually a genius.
Looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this yesterday. Maybe I was still in shock from the Architect basically telling me I was going to die in a week?
At any rate, though, I think I’ve figured it out. Trying to convince the guys about something rationally is never going to work, because that’s only ever going to appeal to the logical part of their brain; what I need to do is shock them with pure emotionality. And who is the one person at the Academy that can put anybody’s guard down and get them to open up emotionally—whether they like it or not? Damion.
But that’s not all. I also remembered how emotionally charged things were the first time I entered the shadow realm with Tristan. It was like everything affected me ten times more than normal, which was what helped me see how much I really wanted Tristan at the time. It might be a long shot, but I think with Damion’s help, Tristan will be able to bring all of us into the shadow realm together, and with all of us emotionally linked up through Damion, it should be enough to get everybody to see that we’re all on the same team. It will be a lot to ask from Damion, but he’s shown me on more than one occasion just how brave he can be, so I know he’ll be up to the task.
Getting the guys to my room tonight will be the easy part, but in the mean time I have to think about how I’m going to convince them to give my plan a shot.
━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━
“So, do you always need a candle for your powers to work?” Tristan asks Damion sarcastically.
“That was my idea,” I interrupt before they can start bickering. “I thought it would help us concentrate.”
Damion, Tristan, Paul and I are all in my room. It’s totally dark, except for a bit of ambient evening light coming in through the window and the big flickering candle that we’re all surrounding. Like setting up a fancy tea party, I’ve actually put a lot of thought into our spots around the candle. Paul and Tristan are the most at odds with one another, so I’ve made sure that both Damion and I are separating them on either side.
I’ve framed this as a “powers exercise,” thinking that’s the only way they would agree to try this. I told Tristan about how much my powers were amplified after connecting with Damion, and suggested that his powers might improve similarly if he tried it. It helps that he’s still distraught about how the assassin was able to control him like that in his own shadow realm. My real motive, however, is to have Damion use his powers on us to pull the guys out of their heads and into their hearts; and I’m hoping that will be enough to get them to all accept—and possibly even like—each other.
“How do we know he’s not gonna manipulate us. Isn’t that his power?” Paul asks, and I actually can’t tell if he’s joking or serious.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Paul,” I say with a sigh, giving him a nudge. “Do you think I’d let him do that to you?”
Paul grumbles a bit but doesn’t say anything else.
“Besides, if the Architect thinks this can work, we’d be stupid not to try,” I say, trying to reassure them one more time.
That was another part of my plan—telling them the little white lie that this is what the Architect wanted to talk to me about during our “unscheduled meeting.”
“Let’s go over this one more time,” Tristan says, the dim candlelight illuminating the sweeping angles of his gorgeous face. “The Architect said Damion should be able to use his powers on the three of us if we all make contact, and that emotional boost will give me the power to let me bring all of us into the shadow realm?”
“That’s the gist of it,” I say.
“That would be a useful skill to have during the test...” Paul comments.
“Right?” I say, latching onto any signs of enthusiasm from them that I can.
“So, what’s it gonna feel like?” Tristan asks, seemingly more curious about the exercise now.
“I’ve never tried with more than one person,” Damion says, “but it should feel natural.”
“It should feel good,” I say with a smile, remembering back to the first time Damion used his power on me.
“Let’s do it then,” Paul says confidently. “We’ve only got six days, right? If it works tonight, we’ll be able to practice it a few more times before the Test.”
Everybody seems to grow a little more serious as soon as Paul mentions the Test. We all look around at each other and nod, indicating that we’re all ready. I’ve made sure that I’m on Paul’s left side so that I can hug him from the left while he holds hands with Damion to his right. Tristan is to my left, and as soon as we all hold hands, I feel it instantly—Damion’s power.
Part of me can’t believe that it actually worked, but even through Paul and Tristan on either side of me, I can feel Damion’s power spreading through me; I can feel him touching me. I also feel the tenseness in Paul instantly dissipate, and his breathing becomes heavier as we all sink deeper into the connectivity that is flowing through us.
I hear Tristan let out a barely audible “Whoa,” and that’s when I notice there’s something different compared to when Damion usually uses his powers with me. I’m not just feeling Damion, I’m feeling all three of them—Paul’s possessiveness and fear that even though he’s grown stronger, he still might not be strong enough to protect me; Tristan’s jealousy and confidence that he’s the only one good enough for me; Damion’s desire to protect me and ensure that nothing bad ever happens to me. These were all things I knew of or had guessed at before, but now I’m feeling them intuitively, and each sensation is accompanied by something distinct that lets me know which person it’s coming from.
At the same time, I’m sure they’re also feeling my emotions too, so I try to focus on how much I love them and how great each of them is, despite their differences—Tristan’s suave playfulness; Paul’s warm strength; Damion’s staunch reliability.
Aside from the sense of touch and the interplay of emotions, there’s a third factor in effect too: our powers. I’d never noticed it before, but as our powers are stoked by the four-way connection we’ve made, I notice how different the essence of each person’s power is. Tristan’s is svelte and billowing; Paul’s is solid, like an immovable mountain; Damion’s is agile and playful. My own power stands out more in this context, and I now see how immense and combinatorial it is; it never stops to moving, and it craves new things to interact with.
There’s no doubt this first step was a success, and even might be enough on its own to bring the guys together, but I want more.
We’re falling deeper into an overwhelming trance-like state as Damion continues to facilitate our four-person bond, but I’m still aware enough to give Tristan’s hand a squeeze.
“Now, Tristan,” I tell him, my voice quivering with emotion and excitement.
Tristan doesn’t respond, but I hear him gasp and then take a deep breath, squeezing my hand back.
Since we’re all connected through Damion’s bond, I can now feel exactly what Tristan—and his power—is doing as he attempts to bring us into the huge shadow on the floor cast by the table upon which the candle is placed, and I try my best to aid him, adding my power to his. Now I understand how Tristan’s power works; or rather, what it feels like for it to work. His power extends out from his core and,
with plasma-like tendrils, hooks into the shadow and brings us closer to it. Of course, none of this is observable normally, but since we’re connected at this level, I can feel how his power operates now.
To my amazement, I feel Paul’s power reaching out too—he’s helping! The steady firmness of Paul’s strength merges with the lithe grace of Tristan’s shadow power and, working together, tempering strength with resilient suppleness, I feel us sink into the shadow beneath us. It’s slower than normal, but it’s working!
As my emotions surge, we plunge more and more quickly down into the shadow realm, and once we’re fully submerged, I open my eyes again to see Tristan, Damion, and Paul all down here with me.
We’ve now let go of one another and are floating within the shadow realm freely. There are big smiles on some of our faces; I guess they’re all just as shocked as I am that this actually worked.
“This is amazing!” Paul exclaims, twisting and turning in response to the shadow currents passing by. The whole shadow realm is vibrating with energy.
“Rad...” Damion says breathlessly. He’s laughing as he looks around this strange dimension.
“I can’t believe I did it,” Tristan says with a huge grin on his face.
I reach out my arms for him—besides Tristan, the rest of us are not very mobile in the shadow realm—and Tristan effortlessly glides over to me. We embrace one another with even more excitement than the first time he brought me here.
As soon as we touch, I can feel the linger effects of Damion’s bond coursing through us. I want to feel that connection again. I reach out to Damion, who’s drifting a few feet away, and to my surprise, Tristan brings both of us over to him.
The two of us collide into Damion and we all start laughing. I feel like the luckiest girl on earth. This is what I’ve wanted for so long—to be able to spend time together with all of the men I love so that we can all share the happiness we create for one another.
Being pressed between two hunks with the currents of the shadow realm caressing my body and Damion’s touch stimulating my entire nervous system is almost too much for my senses, and I’m suddenly overcome by a feral desire to feel their bodies on a much deeper level.
