The Bloom Series Box Set: Bloom & Fade (35 page)

D
EDICATION

For the Teachers.

Thank you.

P
ROLOGUE

H
igh above the churning waters on the coast of Greece were the
ruins of a temple dedicated to the many gods of the old world. Its
wide, flat foundation was carved into the rock—a flat slab chiseled
out of the towering cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea. There was a
time when countless priests and acolytes made the long journey from
ancient Thessaly to visit the sacred temple and pay homage to their
gods.

That time had long past, and now only
crumbled pillars and a few weather-worn statues remained to remind
the temple’s sole occupant how all things diminished with
time.

The temple was at the tip of a sharp
outcropping of rock—a knife that jutted out from the mainland
toward the heart of the Aegean. Its roof was level with the grass
shelf on top of the cliff and melded seamlessly with the field
overlooking the sea. Centuries ago, marble stairs led from a
sheltered path on the grassy cliff-top, down the sheer cliff wall,
and to the front steps of the temple. Years of exposure to the
harsh sea winds had eroded the steps into nothing more than
crumbling ramps. The natural rock on either side of the temple had
been left untouched, effectively shadowing the structure’s
existence from all but the passing gulls.

Over the centuries, trees had crept in
around the base of the temple and surrounded it in a cage of brown
and green, wiping the monument from the memory of man.

Nathaniel only found it because he was
immortal, and when one was immortal one had the time to search for
such things.

Fallen statues littered the cracked
floor of the temple. Aiolus, the keeper of wind, lay next to
Poseidon, god of the sea, both of them brought low during the fall
of the Greek Empire. Nathaniel stepped over the statues as he
walked to the edge of the cliff, then leaned against a crooked
pillar and looked out to sea.

The gulls cried loudly over the waves
far below in their search for food. Nathaniel closed his eyes and
breathed in the fresh salt air. The warm wind played over his face
and shaved scalp, ruffling his collar and flapping the tail of his
long coat. He felt nothing on the left side of his face, where a
long scar—one of many that covered the dark skin of his entire
body—ran from the top of his forehead, over the outside corner of
his eye, and down to the bottom of his jaw.

The nerves had been
severed with the cut of a knife after he stole a loaf of bread when
he was eleven years old.
Nathaniel
wondered what a boy who didn’t even speak the language of his new
country could possibly know of the difference between right and
wrong when his mother lay dying, starved half to death for refusing
to work in the fields one more day. The only thing he could think
to do was to steal from the very man who fed him.

Nathaniel had been halfway back to the
barn where he and his mother slept, carrying a loaf of warm,
fresh-baked bread tucked under his shirt. The screen door to the
kitchen slammed open behind him and the wife of his owner screamed
at the top of her lungs. Her husband ran out of the house and came
at him with a pearl-handled hunting knife to teach Nathaniel that
little boys shouldn’t steal from their masters.

The iris of his left eye was
permanently clouded white from the injury; the iris of his right
was a deep, clear brown.

Nathaniel felt his time on Earth
slipping away. He grew tired as the days wore on—exhausted in a way
he’d never known. He was beginning to understand that his ability
was guiding him away from this life, but he did not know where it
was taking him. Dark thoughts had plagued his mind for
months—thoughts of hopelessness and despair. The truth that nothing
he had accomplished made any real difference was driving him slowly
insane.

In his vain attempt to escape that
truth, Nathaniel had searched everywhere for the smallest measure
of relief. He went back to the village in Kenya where he was born,
hoping it would somehow quiet his raging mind—but it was not the
same as he remembered.

The whole world had
changed.

The ancient Greek temple was the only
place where he had found relative peace. It was his sole sanctuary
from the chaos. As Nathaniel stood on the edge of the cliff between
the crumbling pillars, he struggled to find that center of peace
once more.

Instead he saw the Earth as if from
space. Tiny pinpoints of lights glowed fiercely on the surface,
each one representing the beating heart of one of his brothers or
sisters. Most of them were spaced very far apart—a handful in
Europe, one or two in Africa—but there were several minor clusters
of lights, the largest in Australia, America, and Japan.

Nathaniel was connected to all of
them, as if they were extensions of his own body and mind. He did
not see details—he didn’t know their names or even what they looked
like—but he knew their very essence of being. He knew that, in some
way, they were just like him.

A light blinked out in western
Australia and Nathaniel shed a tear for his dead sister.

The lights had been fading more
quickly over the past year. The normal progression for such things
was one or two a year. With such a small population to begin with,
it was rare for a high volume of deaths in such a short
timeframe.

Usually such casualties signaled the
start of something terrible.

Nathaniel felt warmth between his
shoulder blades and leaned away from the pillar. He looked up at
the sagging boughs of a nearby olive tree and watched several of
the leaves wither and fall. The wind picked them up and carried
them out over the sea.

All things
diminish
, he thought,
except me
.

Nathaniel rested his palm on the trunk
of the tree and allowed what he had accidentally taken to flow back
through the bark. The boughs of the tree groaned as they lifted up
and spread wide once more.

He patted the trunk and moved to the
center of the temple.

There were several rows of broken
benches to one side—white marble that had been meticulously carved
with the faces of old gods. All but a faint bump of the statues’
noses had survived centuries of erosion. Nathaniel imagined a
priest standing in the middle of the temple thousands of years ago,
addressing a crowd of eager students. Teachers of science,
mathematics, and philosophy—some of the most brilliant minds of the
ancient world had lived and died under Greek rule. Their whole
empire had been only a small fraction of the world, yet to them it
was everything. It left them free to explore the mind and countless
other subjects—to advance medicine and art to unparalleled
heights.

The temple had been
plundered during the
Peloponnesian War,
shortly before the fall of ancient Greece
.
Steel bars were ripped from the hearts of the pillars and most of
the marble was carried off and integrated into other buildings. The
Greeks had been helpless to stop their culture from
dying.

Nathaniel wanted to believe that, for
the first time in history, a society possessed the capability of
defending itself from extinction. Perhaps with help, his brothers
and sisters did not have to die. He would go to them one last time.
Just once, he wanted his actions to have a positive and lasting
impact on the future.

White flames licked up his arms and
cascaded over his body. The air inside the temple bent around him
as he used his energy to manipulate his surroundings. He closed his
eyes and reached halfway around the world—reached out to his fallen
sister and to all the others who were about to fall.

One last
time
, he thought.

In a single flash of blinding white
light, Nathaniel was gone.

1

H
aven lost track of the young man she was chasing, so instead
she followed the screams of a child. A girl, no more than seven or
eight, had been pulled from her mother’s arms while Haven ran after
Lee through a grocery store in downtown Chicago. In his mad
scramble for escape, Lee grabbed up the girl with the hope that
Haven wouldn’t vaporize him if he held an innocent
hostage.

Of course she wouldn’t—but now Haven
not only had to catch Lee and find out why he had suddenly come out
of hiding to commit murder, she also had to play it safe so the
little girl didn’t get hurt in the inevitable crossfire.

Lee had run from the grocery store and
into the heart of the downtown area, leading Haven on a frantic
chase through the crowded streets. She stopped apologizing to
everyone after Lee shoved aside the fifth person—after it became
obvious things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got
better. Instead, she focused on running him down. He was fast, even
with a screaming little girl tucked firmly under his
arm.

People turned at the commotion and
some even shouted at Lee to stop, but none of them stuck out a foot
to trip him. At one point he quickly looked back and the smirk of
amusement on his face angered Haven beyond belief. It was all she
could do to keep the boiling energy inside her from ripping Lee to
shreds.

No public displays of her
ability unless it was absolutely necessary—that had been the
agreement she and everyone else living in the Dome had made once
things settled down almost a year ago. Life or
death
necessary. They couldn’t risk
being followed back to their sanctuary of the Dome, especially not
while they still housed the sick and wounded patients from Bernam’s
medical facility. And besides, it was thought that no less than two
national governments were aware of the powers available to a small
amount of the population. There were rumors that special units had
been sanctioned to detain and question anyone who showed the
slightest hints of an ability.

Haven cursed her promise to play it
safe as she reached out for the tail of Lee’s coat and grasped at
air. He spun to the side and ran down a narrow alley, then turned
the corner at the end before Haven made it halfway. When she
emerged at the other side he was already sprinting to the doors of
a half-finished skyscraper on the far end of an empty parking lot.
Plastic sheeting flapped in the wind all the way up the side of the
building, covering gaping holes meant for walls and
windows.

Lee ducked inside as Haven ran across
the pavement.

Two-thirds of the way up the outside
of the building, the firm grid-work of future offices gave way to a
skeleton of steel beams that reached toward the sky like the spikes
of a crown. Haven knew she needed to catch up with Lee before he
climbed too high—otherwise, with one false step, he could kill
himself and the little girl as well.

On the plus side, they would probably
be alone in the building, so her promise not to use her ability
quickly became obsolete—as long as she didn’t hurt the little girl.
Haven ran up the set of stairs and through the doors to the
building. She allowed the blooming heat within her chest to
manifest into the dormant blue flames—the lighter, harmless waves
of fire that preceded the more deadly focused blasts of energy.
Dancing fire sheathed her body and flowed over her skin like
liquid.

Her vision filled with electric blue
light as she ran for the nearest set of stairs. Pieces of
construction equipment lay scattered everywhere and the elevator
shaft was open and empty—not even the cables had been
installed.

The heat inside of her chest pulsed
throughout her body, straining for release. The prolonged retention
of the incredible power she wielded had been her main focus over
the past year, when there was hardly anything else to do but train
and hone her ability until she could perfectly manipulate her
energy output.

There had been some time with Colton,
as well.

Haven pushed him from her mind as she
ran up the stairs, counting levels as she went. The railing
disappeared after the fifth floor and the stairs dead-ended after
the seventh—there was only an empty shaft above her leading all the
way to the top of the building.