Hereditary (19 page)

Nareon had stepped closer, blocking the others from my sight, but I could still smell them. I could
feel
the warmth of their vitality, the energy, the life, pulsing beneath their skin. I didn’t care so much though, because Nareon was closer, his energy stronger, his heartbeat louder. A feral sort of snarl slipped from my mouth, and Nareon knelt down, his hands covering mine.

“Easy, Spitfire. Easy.”

The cuffs had begun to dig into my wrists, and the silver chains were straining, I could feel the frail strength of the chair that had only moments ago seemed so secure, and I could feel it vibrating with the strain I was putting on it. I looked back to Nareon, and felt his hands slip up my arms, one of them settling on my shoulder, pushing me back, and unlike the chair, his strength was unwavering.

Why the chair, then
? I wondered.

His other hand slipped up the back of my neck, burying into the tangle of hair at the base of my skull, tilting my head up to his mouth, and just like that, my worry disappeared. I pulled deep as he kissed me, the energy flooding through me fast enough to make my head spin, and Nareon pressed me harder to the chair, his tongue pushing between my lips to deepen the kiss. I pulled again, drawing more of him into me, and he made a growling sound, confusing me as to whether I had hurt him or not. And then, suddenly, he tore his mouth away.

I whimpered at the loss, and he released my head, swiping his thumb across my lower lip where my cut from the night before had re-opened. For a moment, he looked as if he would kiss me again, his eyes wide and feral with some emotion—possibly the same hunger as mine—and then he stepped back.

“Your glamor,” he reminded me, his voice rough.

I felt like some kind of animal, my mind intent on draining him dry and then moving on to the other two, but the longer Nareon stared at me, the more I began to slip back to myself. I don’t know how long it took me to pull out of the predatory need that had me posessed, but when I did, I wrenched my glamor back down, and somewhere, someone sighed in heavy relief. It might have even been me. Nareon waited until my glamor was back in place and then he turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door. Both Cale and me cringed, but Grenlow jumped forward and began freeing me from the chair. Easing my hands out of the shackles, I noticed that my wrists were raw. A few more minutes in the chair and the skin would have broken—I would have started bleeding. I looked to Cale, shame burning hot on my face, and he held his arms out for me, his expression achingly sympathetic.

My guardian angel
, I thought as I ran to him and let him fold me into his arms.

“The King requests that the boy leaves now,” said Grenlow.

Cale set me gently from him and I turned to look at the guard.

“Absolutely not,” Cale said.

“I’d rather he stays,” I added, a little more politely.

“It’s not up to you. The King makes the rules around here, and you have a job to do. The King has been patient this last week, but now you must fulfill your end of the bargain.”

I nodded; the steady flow of newly stolen energy that coursed through me prevented me from feeling the weariness that settled in the spot between my shoulder blades at his words. I turned back to Cale and gave his hand a squeeze.

“It’s alright, I made a promise and he’s right, it’s about time I did my part. I’ll be home tonight.”

“Come to the castle, we’ll wait for you there.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but ended up nodding. If I didn’t make it back, at least someone would notice. Grenlow led us both out and back to the beautiful fountain room just inside the castle doors. Nareon waited there, once again coolly detached, and he watched as Cale was lead out the doors before turning back to me.

“Come, Spitfire. There is much to do.”

Three hours later, there was still apparently much to do. We had sat in one of the castle gardens—not unlike the gardens in the Read Castle—and I had opened the connection, trying to search for the things that Nareon urged me to. First he had me close my eyes and locate where he stood, which had taken the most time. Once I learnt how to sense the things that weren’t growing from the ground, it became easier to seek the things he asked me to, given that I had seen or felt them before. I didn’t know how long it would take me to progress enough that I would be able to locate the Force users, but Nareon assured me that it was only a matter of time. Once darkness threatened to fall, I insisted that I needed to return, and he walked me back to the stables and saddled the same horse that was supposed to be tethered to a post outside my cottage.

“How’d it get back here?” I asked in surprise, as Nareon helped me up into the saddle.

“A common inheritance ability among the synfees is an ability to communicate with animals, the stronger your power is, the more that communication leans toward persuasion.”

Once I was atop the horse, Nareon paused, holding the reins as he looked up at me.

“Don’t wait so long next time, Bea. My people need you, and you need me.”

I nodded, not knowing what else to say to that, and he handed me the reins. The ride back to the other castle was tiring, because the journey was a long one. It would have taken less time to return to Sparrow’s Settlement, but the books that I would need for classes in the morning were still in Rose’s room, so I resigned myself to the task of getting there without falling asleep in the saddle. Hazen must have sensed me coming even before I reached the gate, for he was waiting for me when I arrived, leaning up against the wall, talking to one of the guards. Their conversation dropped off when I slid off the horse, and the guard stepped forward to catch the reins, giving me an easy smile. I recognised him by now, and smiled in return, hoping that the surprise stayed off my face. Hazen looked me over, and then gently began to lead me through the gates.

“Cale and Rose are both waiting, they’ll be relieved to see you’re alright.”  

“Does Cale live here or something?”

He laughed. “Cale’s father is like your own, Bea. His mother died when he was younger and his father is barely here. My own mother practically raised him, and his father keeps a house here in the Market District.”

“I see. So are you going to tell me what this thing on my neck is?”

I hadn’t even remembered it until I once again saw Hazen, and I drew away Rose’s shawl now, seeing his eyes flick to my neck and then just as quickly look away.

“It’s something I have feared since I first sensed the darkness in your mind.”

“And?”

“And Joseph’s reaction on Friday confirmed it. You’re marked.”

“What?”

“Your father is too, you never noticed it?”

I shook my head mutely and then paused, my step faltering as we began to ascend the staircase leading up to the first floor, almost causing me to fall over.

“Wait, you’re not talking about that sun on his arm, are you? The tattoo?”

His lips pulled into a humourless smile, and I felt an image flash through my mind, one that didn’t belong to any of my memories. It was a detailed sketch of a mark very similar to the one my father had on his forearm. It was shaped almost like a sun, but the beams were diamond-shaped and regimented in their evenly spaced positions, with straight, spiky lines between each. Right in the centre of the sun likeness was a straight, simple dagger, the steel somehow managing to glint wickedly even in black-and-white.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “That’s it. He said got it at some travelling carnival.”

“And most people wouldn’t know any better.”

“I’m not following, Hazen.”

“It’s the death mark. Your father has a killing ability.”

A year ago, I would have slapped him, or maybe even laughed in his face. But now I considered what he said. Because only this afternoon I had pulled away my glamor and confronted the driving need to kill the three people that stood nearby. And my father was commander of the Black Guard. If anyone had a skill for killing, it was him.

“When Joseph mentioned the
push
of your strongest power to act without your consent the more time you went without feeding, I read his mind and saw what he meant. He wasn’t talking about your darkness. That mark means something very dangerous, Bea—more so in your position.”

We had reached the door of the chamber that I had slept in the last time, and I quickly put my hand on his arm before he went any further.

“What do I do?” I asked him, trying to remain calm.

“Go back to Joseph. I don’t know what his problem is, but you need him.”

I need a lot of people, it seems
.

I released Hazen and he pushed open the door, revealing Rose, who was asleep in an armchair beneath the window, and Cale, who stood up and strode straight over to us, assessing my appearance just as Hazen had. I gave him a forced smile, and went over to wake up Rose, who gave me a relieved hug and then went off for bed, telling me that she’d leave out something for me to wear tomorrow. Hazen left with her, and Cale ruffled my hair before he turned to go as well.

“Cale?” I called out, before the door closed behind him.

He paused, his head re-appearing.

“Thank you for today.”

“Anytime, Little Synfee; you’re one of us now.”

Chapter Fourteen

Offensive Training

I slept very badly that night, taunted by dreams of a lurking man at the edges of my consciousness, ambiguous stabs of pain and panic wracking my mind in intervals broken up by a foggy, debilitating confusion. So when I got to the Academy the next morning, dressed in a thin, lilac cotton dress with a ruffled hem and a v-neckline that had me wearing my hair down in a vain attempt at modesty, I felt almost depressed enough to seek out Joseph as Hazen had told me to. I planned to do it after classes, when there wouldn’t be so many students around to witness me being thrown from the top of the watchtower, if it came to that. However, as I sat in Coercion Ethics that morning, Hazen once again by my side, an unexpected surprise had me abandoning my plans.

A knock at the door interrupted Professor Mont mid-sentence, and she glanced toward the offending sound, apparently considering ignoring it altogether, until it sounded again.

“Enter!” she snapped.

A scared-looking first year poked his head into the room and scurried over to Mont, handing her a small roll of parchment, and then bolting again for the door before she could use the parchment to beat him for interrupting her class. We were all somewhat dumbfounded, I think, because the mechanical birds were usually the message-carriers around the Academy, but Mont unrolled the parchment, looking more annoyed than anything else. After she finished reading, she tossed the scroll to her desk.

“There has been a mandatory class introduced for all senior students and above. It will take the place of your last lesson every Monday, and will be held in the Sand Theatre off-grounds. And, I will repeat, this is mandatory.”

Her announcement was met with a flurry of whispering speculation, which she quelled with a narrow-eyed look, before turning back to the graph she had been explaining, which depicted a circle of reactions that stemmed from influencing a person’s thoughts or behaviours. Before she could speak, however, a girl in the front row shot up her hand, and Mont sighed.

“Yes, Castlebury?”

“What is the class?”

“I have not been given that information.”

I wondered if it were just me, or if the others could also tell that she was lying. I snuck a look at Hazen, whose eyes were narrowed.

“What is it?” I whispered to him, just as the girl shot up her hand again.

“Oh what now?” Mont asked.

Hazen leaned toward me, his voice low as the girl asked who would be teaching the class.

“Her mind has been open the whole lesson, but now it’s suddenly closed off.”

I looked back to Mont, awaiting her answer just as the others did, and could see that she was considering answering this question honestly, her lips pursed, clearly impatient to get on with her lesson.

“Professor Harbringer,” she finally said. “Now no more questions.”

The room erupted into sudden chaos, and Mont’s face grew red. I couldn’t even make out what people were saying, as there were too many voices trying to talk over the top of others, so instead I watched Mont, who walked into the middle of the classroom and sliced her hand through the air in one sharp, belligerent motion. Momentarily, the breath left my throat, and my lips pressed together, refusing to open no matter how much I urged them to. Looking around in a slight panic, I noticed that everyone else was the same.

“Now,” said Mont, moving back down to her diagram. “As we can see here, controlling the bodily functions of a person can sometimes lead to that person having severe panic attacks, if done for too long.”

She waved her hand again, and I found myself once again in control, but the classroom stayed quiet this time. When the lesson finally finished, I found that I wasn’t the only one in a rush to escape Mont.

“She’s a nutter.” I muttered to Hazen as we walked out into the sunshine, heading for the table beneath the cherry-blossom tree, where I had begun to sit with the rest of their group.

He chuckled and Cale, who was already lazing on the table, playing with the petals of a fallen flower, perked up.

“Who’s a nutter?”

“Professor Mont. She literally took our breath away for a few seconds and compelled us not to speak.”

“Ah, Mad Mont. She was penalised by the Academy board for that last year, she’s supposed to be on her last warning, but they’ll never fire her, she’s insanely powerful, and insanely smart, so it kind of outweighs the fact that she’s just plain insane.”

I sat down next to Cale as I saw Kaylee approaching, and fell back to stare up at the web of branches above me.

“I suppose you already know about Harbringer’s lesson this afternoon?” I asked him, watching as a blossom began to float down, fluttering through the air until it came to rest on the gentle rise-and-fall of my stomach.