She introduced herself as Lizea before saying she needed to fetch something and leaving through a gap in the curtains.
In the bed next to her, Jo sounded like she was getting worse. She had basically collapsed onto it and was clutching her head, moaning in pain.
Sunny herself felt as if she had twenty other bodies shoved inside of her own and that she would explode at any moment.
When Lizea returned, she approached Jo's bed with a look of determination. She lifted her hand and laid her palm on Jo's stomach, closing her eyes in concentration. Sunny watched the woman’s hands carefully, the smooth, dark skin at odds with the wrinkles on her face. After a few moments, Jo opened her mouth, and a small cloud of black mist escaped her lips as Jo relaxed back against the cot. Sunny stared for a moment in shock before attempting to climb to her feet.
"What are you doing?" she demanded. But the woman said in a soothing voice,
"Calm down, child. Look. See."
Sunny looked back at Jo and saw that she had stopped trembling, the color returning to her cheeks. However, she still clutched her head, groaning.
"What else is wrong with her?" Sunny asked. "How did you do that?"
The woman just walked over and laid her hand on the side of Sunny's head where she soon felt a soothing warmth radiate through her wound. Her pain had disappeared, and as she watched in amazement, the scratches on her arms began knitting together.
Though her outer wounds no longer hurt, Sunny's headache remained, random voices and phrases shooting through her thoughts too fast for her to focus on. Her skin still felt hypersensitive and she was aware of everything that was surrounding her, inside the room and out.
Poor girl, she heard Lizea say through her mind. She has no idea.
"No idea of what?"
Lizea's eyes widened. "Sorry, I'm not used to having Murmurs around."
"What's that? Why do I feel this way?" she asked in a panic.
The old woman gave a kind smile. "You are a wily one." Then her face turned serious. "I'm sorry you're feeling this way. It's normal. I don't want to load you with a bunch of information just yet. You can barely concentrate on what I am saying now.
The problem is you and your sister are overwhelmed by the thoughts of all the people here. You've gone from zero exposure to being overexposed, and it is a shock to your system.
You're having a hard time managing it."
Sunny let that sink in. Maybe later she would wonder why Lizea seemed to know so much about her and her sister. But, for now, she was too overwhelmed by the idea of reading minds. “But. . .I still don’t understand.”
Lizea grabbed Sunny's chin and looked directly into her eyes. "I am Gifted," she said, “That is how I healed you. You and your sister are Gifted, as well. You both appear to possess the ability to hear the thoughts of others. You are both overwhelmed because it is new and you have no control, but I can help you to manage it with one of these."
She turned around and pulled up the back of her shirt to reveal an intricate tattoo between her shoulder blades. The dark blue ink made a ring about the size of a baseball, formed by different geometric shapes.
Sunny frowned, reaching out to touch it, then pulled back at the last second. "It's beautiful," she said, "but how will a tattoo help me with what's going on in my head?"
"These markings are unique. Each one is different for each person, the colors determined by your Gift. They are given to us as young adults when our powers start to bloom," she said, with a nostalgic look on her face. Sunny saw in her mind that she was remembering the time she got her own Mark. "If the power grows too much, too fast, it can be harmful to the host, sometimes causing death.
They are given by individuals—Quellers, we call them—whose Gift is to recognize and suppress the
Gifts of others. By their birthright as Quellers, they are capable of inking magic Marks onto the skin.
Those Marks create a balance within the person that makes it easier to control one's abilities and therefore easier to learn to use them. The more powerful the ability, the larger the Mark."
Sunny tried to digest that information and, thinking Jo had been awfully quiet, she looked over to see what her sister thought. But Jo was barely conscious, still gripping her head in pain. That was what made the decision for her.
"How quickly can we get one?"
Lizea grinned, "You're making the right choice."
She hurried from the room and came back with a middle-aged woman with flame-red hair braided to the side and a spattering of freckles across her face. There was a pale orange Mark on her right cheek that flickered over her features like a flame. She sat on a stool next to Jo's bed, hands hovering over her back.
“Wait!” Both women stopped in their tracks and looked over at Sunny. “That’s not going to hurt her, is it?”
“Not at all,” the woman said confidently. “The name’s Jessalyn, by the way.” Sunny saw in her mind that she was telling the truth, and told her her own name in return. Jessalyn nodded and got to work.
With Lizea's help, they turned Jo over onto her stomach. Taking a pair of scissors, she cut Jo's shirt in half up her back. Jo was going to be so pissed. She loved that shirt.
After flipping the halves to the side, Sunny watched in fascination as the woman closed her eyes and, with a serene look on her face, held her hands over Jo's back once more. She had elegant hands with long slender fingers. Artist’s hands.
Orange light flared from her palms and Sunny jerked back in surprise.
Jesslyn's hands moved in elegant sweeping motions over Jo's back, gliding from the nape of her neck to her lower back. After a moment, a diamond about two inches long formed at her nape.
At first, Sunny thought that was it, the process was over. But the woman’s hands continued their graceful movements over Jo's back, forming another diamond directly below the first. She started moving her body the way one does when stroking an instrument, as if Jo were a piano being played.
She continued doing that for what felt like an hour but was probably only fifteen minutes.
When she finished, Jo had a line of diamonds down her spine, starting at the nape of her neck and ending at her tailbone. The left half of her back had a design of swooping swirls, dancing over her shoulder blade and down over her hip.
"Wow," Sunny breathed. "I didn't think it would be that big." She looked to Lizea, to see what she thought, but the look on her face stopped her from speaking.
Jessalyn and Lizea both looked terrified. . .of Jo.
I'm glad she at least got a Mark to help control it, she's going to need it, she heard Jessalyn's thoughts.
Then Lizea’s, Hopefully, she doesn't abuse her power.
Sunny crossed her arms. "Jo would never hurt anyone," she said fiercely.
Their heads whipped around.
I hope she's not as powerful as her sister.
"I heard that."
Jessalyn's face reddened. In anger? Shame?
Sunny didn't know.
"Look," she said, raising her hands. "There's a reason the Lorleans don't get involved in the politics of who's the most powerful. If you just turn over, I'll get yours done and be out of your hair."
Come on girl, just let me leave.
Sunny stared at Jessalyn for a moment. She wanted to lash out at the women. She needed an outlet for her anger, but when it came down to it, she needed that tattoo, too.
Sighing, she said, "Hurry up."
Jessalyn didn't say anything, she was too afraid.
But Lizea’s gentle voice spoke through her mind. Your type is to be feared, child. We cannot help what we cannot control. We feel vulnerable. You can read our deepest darkest secrets without anyone knowing. I hope you can understand what it means to possess such a Gift.
Sunny's gaze landed on Lizea's, and she nodded reluctantly. She could understand that, but with all the pressure she was under, it was hard not to bite everyone’s heads off. She was on the defensive, couldn't they understand that
?
She didn't know how to handle this. It was all too much: the world, the people, the powers, magic tattoos. Sunny was worried about her and her sister’s future. Where would they end up? She felt such yearning for their small, two-bedroom apartment that it was like an ache in her stomach.
Sure, life was hard sometimes, but it was their life. They'd had jobs and a roof over their head. They had a purpose. Now their purpose was to try to survive a world they hadn't even known existed.
Back home, things were predictable, but here they might not even survive the evening. Hell, Sunny wasn't even sure if she could trust these people, it was all a hunch.
As she felt the soft glide of Jessalyn's fingers on her back, completing her mark, she heard a gasp. Then, Jessalyn’s thoughts whispered in her mind.
A Thief!
Chapter 9
Jo
Writhia, 5219
The Lorlean Lands
Jo came awake slowly. She expected to feel aches and pains after all she’d been through, but instead she felt. . .fine. Like she’d gotten a full dinner and a good night’s sleep. Jo was thankful for the rest, she didn’t know when she was going to get it again.
She rubbed her eyes as she looked around. She seemed to be in some sort of hospital room, the bed she was laying in sectioned off from the rest of the room by long white curtains. Medical equipment beeped quietly on the wall while small white lights floated dimly around her. There was a black band around her wrist and, when she looked closer, she saw that it had a small screen that displayed her vitals.
As expected, she was not alone on the bed. Sunny was curled up beside her, clutching pieces of Jo’s shirt. Jo dimly wondered why her shirt was cut in half. The last thing she remembered was being carried into some sort of small, desert village. After that, the pain had overwhelmed her until she couldn’t focus on anything else.
While things were quiet and Sunny was sleeping, Jo took the time to collect her thoughts.
As everything replayed in her head, she felt numb. Detached. It wasn’t a foreign feeling, and Jo felt the sort of distant panic that always accompanied the experience.
Not again, she thought. I was doing so well before.
When things got stressful at school, or life became too monotonous and meaningless, she would spend days at a time in bed, barely leaving her room. Her thoughts circled and pestered her, telling her to give up before she even tried. She could feel that darkness trying to capture her again, a feeling that was much scarier to her than the strange world she had found herself in. Even when she felt terrified, it was a relief. Terror was a feeling that would eventually fade, but the numbness was all-encompassing, and she never knew how long it would last. She told herself she needed to fight this, that Sunny needed her as much as she needed Sunny. But it didn’t help that she had forgotten her medication at home. It always helped more than anything else.
Jo looked down at Sunny and brushed her hair out of her face. When her fingertips made contact with her sister’s skin, Jo saw a vivid memory of their mother playing with them as children. They were having a tea party, and Eleyna told them they were her princesses.
Little Sunny sniffed daintily and said, “Excuse you, Mom, but I’m a queen.” The whole thing was surrounded with that sort of fuzzy quality of dreams.
Jo yanked her hand back and the memory faded.
Had she just witnessed Sunny’s dream? Sunny lay still, smiling slightly in her sleep. Jo flushed as she suddenly remembered that she had passed out at one point, probably in front of everyone. That was just Jo’s luck. She was willing to bet Sunny hadn’t passed out.
As she scanned the room, Jo sensed a presence. She wasn’t sure if it was her instincts, but she feared it was probably her newfound ability to read minds. At least, that’s what she hoped it was, and that she wasn’t losing her mind.
Looking for the source of the feeling, Jo's eyes were drawn to the silhouette of someone standing on the other side of the curtain. The shadow looked to be swaying back and forth, their hands flapping slowly at their sides.
Keeping her eyes on the figure, Jo gently shook Sunny awake. She was up within a second, as Jo knew she would be.
“Jo! What is it, are you alright?” Sunny asked, eyes darting around. Her shirt was also sliced open up the back and started to slip down her shoulder until Jo put it back in place.
Slowly, Jo nodded her head over toward the shadow of whoever was guarding their room.
As if they had sensed their eyes or heard their fervent whispers, the figure straightened. Their hands stilled and Jo saw the shadow's arm reach for the curtain.
Jo tensed as the fabric was slowly drawn aside. . .
And a man's cautious face appeared.
His eyes flicked quickly over them before flitting back to his hands, his silky black hair falling over his brow to brush the golden brown skin of his cheekbones. He was wearing a heavy, woven green vest and black cargo-style pants tucked into sturdy boots. Burrs and twigs were stuck to his clothes as if he'd just returned from the woods.
Now that Jo knew he was there, his thoughts rushed into her mind.
Look at their eyebrows so they think I'm making eye contact.
Those light brown eyes lifted once more, and if Jo hadn't heard his thoughts she would have believed he was looking into her eyes. But, because she had read his thoughts, she could see the way his gaze was locked ever so slightly above hers.
“Hello,” Jo called softly. “Is there a reason you’re standing guard over us?” She hadn’t realized she wasn’t speaking English until partway through the sentence. When she realized she was speaking a different language, the words became thick in her mouth, and her tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar sounds. She knew what she was saying, but she wasn’t sure how she was saying it.
Orrin said to tell him when they wake up.
One of his hands lifted to fidget with the charms on his leather necklace as he took out a small device that looked like a cell phone. He typed something on it before returning it to his pocket.
Jo was shocked to see something that resembled the technology of home. It was a small piece of familiarity in a world that held a new surprise at every turn.
He looked back at Jo and Sunny when they continued to stare at him and shifted, uncomfortable.
He motioned to a pile of cloth on the bedside table. "Those clothes are for you."
"Thank you," Jo said sincerely. It would be a relief to get out of her dirty, torn clothes, even if they were the last things she had from home.
"You're welcome," he told her. Then he thought, Smile.
And he did, a pleasant smile that gave no hint to his inner monologue.
Sunny jumped up from the bed and walked over to the clothes. As she bent over them, her torn shirt parted, causing Jo to gasp.
“Uhh, Sunny, what happened to your back?” she asked, this time making sure to use English.
“Oh boy,” Sunny muttered.
Down her back was a large, colorful tattoo. Starting at the nape of her neck and ending at her tailbone, there was a trail of different symbols, interlocking and overlapping down her spine. The color scheme seemed to be a gradient that held every color known to man, shifting and changing as it descended down her back. Some symbols looked almost like flowers, while others looked more geometric. One sort of looked like flames, one like waves, and one was made of swirls. The overall effect was extremely intricate and beautiful.
“So, long story short,” Sunny drawled, “We can read minds and we had to get magic tattoos.”
Jo frowned at her and Sunny sighed. “Apparently, the people here have Gifts, capital ‘G,’ and we have them now, too. You are what’s called a Murmur. You can hear thoughts and manipulate them—that’s what the tattoo is for. It helps you to control it because, apparently, we are really powerful.”
Jo looked at Sunny as the knowledge that she was right, she hadn’t imagined those thoughts, ran through her. What kind of place existed where people had superpow
ers? Sure, on Earth some people claimed to be able to do these things and there were people who claimed to be psychic, but Jo had never bought into any of it. And she’d never seen proof that they were telling the truth. But this. . .she could feel that this was real, and that scared her almost as much as the numb feeling.
Jo swallowed. “So, are you a whatchamacallit, too?” she asked.
“A Muhr-muhr,” Sunny emphasized. “At least that’s the closest word for it in our language. Get it? Like a murmur in your mind? And no. I can use other people’s powers when I’m near them.
They call it a Thief. That’s how I was able to compel the Swarog at the pond. I guess I was using your Gift.”
“Oh," Jo frowned, lost in thought.
Then her head jerked up. “Wait, I got a tattoo?”
She shoved her way past the curtains looking for a mirror.
"Privy," the man said, pointing to a door to the right.
Jo frowned at the word but nonetheless followed his direction.
She found herself in a restroom with a sleek toilet and sink. In the corner was a showerhead, the tiled floor sloping down toward a drain. The textured vermillion walls were decorated with embroidered pictures and shelves with artistic clay pottery. At the back of the room was a floor length mirror.
When she got a glimpse of her back, she gasped. “Holy shit, Mom would kill me.” Her expression sobered quickly. “Wait, wouldn’t Mom know about this? I mean, wouldn’t she have noticed if we had superpowers? Wouldn’t we?”
“I don’t know the details yet,” Sunny said in a soft voice, handing a bundle of clothes to Jo that she’d brought along. “But we need to get dressed and go ask for answers.”
Jo and Sunny changed out of their dirty, blood-spattered clothes and into the ones that had been provided for them.
They both were given loose, linen pants and short-sleeved shirts. Sunny’s were dyed a pale pink and Jo’s were a faded blue. Sunny’s were slightly too long and Jo’s slightly too loose, but at least they were clean and not too hot for the pressing heat they felt even inside. Jo’s plastic sandals were destroyed, but she found a pair of much sturdier leather ones that tied around her feet when they got back to their bed. Sunny kept on her dance shoes, unwilling to part with them.
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