The Holders (18 page)

We stepped out into the hall where I saw Alex had turned down the adjacent hallway while everyone else had gone straight ahead. Jocelyn gave me one final nod before following the larger crowd up toward the front of the building, while I hurried after Alex, hugging my Sciath to my chest so I wouldn’t jingle like a Christmas elf.

“Alex?” I called when I was only a few feet away. I saw him stiffen at the sound of my voice, and it seemed to take him a second too long to turn around. “Are you all right?” I asked, finding it hard to hide the worry in my tone.

He gave me something that looked like a smile, though it didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “Yeah, I’m OK,” he said, his voice dry and rough. “Just not feeling well, that’s all.”

“Can I do anything for you?” I asked, almost excited at the chance to help him after all he’d done for me these last few weeks.

He winced for a split second, almost as if my words hurt him – though it was probably just gratitude. “No, thank you. I’ll be all right.”

“OK,” I said, disappointed. “I’m sorry about last night,” I added after a silent moment, hoping he would remember that he’d said he wanted to talk to me and maybe suggest that we talk now. Cheap trick, I know, but I wasn’t ready to let him leave. Something was telling me that he needed me. Consoling, or comforting, or maybe just a friendly ear, I wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, I was more than willing to provide it. The one thing I was sure about, however, was that something was wrong with him – and that something was more than sickness.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you said you wanted to talk to me, and with the way things worked out, we didn’t have a chance.”

“Oh,” he said, barely breaking a whisper. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe later if you are feeling up to it we could–”

“No,” he said quickly, “it was nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He paused, glancing down. “It doesn’t matter now.”

He took a deep breath and looked back up at me with what I’m sure was supposed to be a smile, but was so hopeless it looked more like he wanted to cry.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked again, hoping he would decide to confide in me.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” He took step backward. “I’m going to go lie down.”

I nodded, well aware that the direction in which he gestured did not lead to his room. “OK,” I said.

It was OK. It was damn-well fine. If he didn’t want to tell me what was bothering him, I wasn’t about to beg. And I certainly wasn’t about to let him know how much it hurt.

“Feel better,” I called after his escaping form, not even sure if he heard me.

I turned back toward Jocelyn’s office, determined that I was not going to let something as trivial as the fact that Alex didn’t trust me get me down.

 

19

 

Dejected and depressed, I returned to Jocelyn’s office where I waited for him to get back with Ryland. Once they arrived, the three of us spent over two hours in Jocelyn’s office, explaining the concept of Holders to an initially very confused, then very awestruck, Ryland. Jocelyn did the majority of the talking, while I listened and watched Ry for any signs of an informational overload-induced panic, worried we might end up scarring the kid for life. Though in hindsight my concerns were pointless, as I realized that you’d probably be pretty hard-pressed to find a ten year-old kid anywhere on earth that wouldn’t love the idea of having – as Ryland called them – superpowers.

Jocelyn told him almost everything about Holders in general: the different abilities, how you get them, and all about the Awakening process. Ryland was also happy to find out that there were other Holder kids attending St Brigid’s that he would be taking classes with, in which they would all learn more about their abilities, and how to use and control them – though he wasn’t thrilled about waiting a few more years for that part. The only things Jocelyn didn’t mention were the Iris, and anything about me other than that we’d recently discovered that I was a Holder too, and of course nothing about Darragh.

Lastly, Jocelyn had made sure to explain why it was very important to keep all of this a secret, and told him that he would have Min add a special charm to his Sciath that would make it impossible for him to divulge anything crucial to anyone who wasn’t a Holder. Ryland wasn’t happy about that, swearing up and down that he wouldn’t tell anyone, but I agreed that the charm was for the best. Contrary to Ryland’s assurances, secrecy has never been his strongest suit.

On the way out of the office Jocelyn handed me an index card with a building and room number on it, as well as a day and time.

“Introduction to Irish,” he told me. “You’ll want to familiarize yourself with the language, it will make things easier for you,” he said discreetly, knowing Ryland was still within earshot. “Professor Altus knows you will be joining. Your first class will be tomorrow at ten. Then tomorrow afternoon, if you are up for it, Taron and Min will give you your first training session. They will meet you in the Inner Chamber at three.”

“Taron?” I repeated with a grimace, not disguising my irritation. But come on, did it really have to be him?

“Taron’s Discerning ability is the most subtle, it will be the best one for you to start with.”

“Yeah, all right,” I said reluctantly, and left.

I walked Ryland up to the front of the building where he gave me a quick goodbye, then ran up the walk and off toward his dorm, excited to meet with his friends for dinner. As I watched his silhouette disappear through the line of trees separating Lorcan from the rest of campus, I was relieved that he was taking everything very well. Honestly, he probably didn’t even need me there at the meeting, but still, I was glad I had gone. It would have been really easy to chicken out again – umm… I mean, decline the invitation – to avoid spending more potentially irritating or awkward time with Jocelyn, but I am proud to say that I didn’t. It may not have been the most comfortable situation, but as the focus for both Jocelyn and me had been Ryland, it wasn’t all that bad.

The rest of the day was quiet and enjoyable, other than the funk I fell into whenever I thought about my conversation in the hall with Alex. It was that prickly, uncomfortable, slightly nauseating feeling you get when you are pretty sure someone is mad at you, but you don’t know why, and are too nervous to ask. That feeling that makes you hold your breath every time you turn a corner because you are terrified they might be there, and if they are, what are you supposed to say, and what will they say, and what if they don’t say anything at all, and you think that you probably shouldn’t say anything either…?

Yeah, uncomfortable funk.

Though more upsetting than the funk, was the general gloom that came with it. I hated knowing that Alex was having such a hard time, and that there was nothing I could do to help him – or nothing he’d let me do, anyway. As horrible as it may sound, when I first realized that something might be wrong with him I was actually kind of excited. It wasn’t that I wanted him to be sick or upset, but because I was happy at the idea of finally being able to really assist. To be there for him, the way he’d been there for me so many times over the last few weeks. But now that I knew he was hurting, and that he didn’t even want to tell me what was wrong much less let me help him with it, I was left feeling sort of helpless. Not to mention terrified that I might have unconsciously caused whatever it was that had him so upset. It didn’t seem likely, but given his behavior toward me it was the only thing I could figure.

I was relieved when it came time to leave for class the next day, if nothing else for the chance to get out of the building and away from my Alex worries for a while. I donned the official green and white school uniform I’d had to borrow from Chloe, threw my notebook and pen into my bag, slid the St Brigid’s cross that Alex had woven on the rail into my pocket, pulled on my coat, and hurried out into the brisk October morning.

As I strode across campus, I let the crisp tang of the musky, pine-scented Irish air tingle in my nose, and exhilarate my already bubbling excitement. After all, what was cooler and more romantic than learning an ancient language? This would be great! And later I would have my first training session, though the fact that it was Taron definitely put a damper on my mood, but hey, it was better than nothing.

I made it to class just as everyone else was arriving and introduced myself to the professor, who gave me my book and workbook, as well as a folder filled with handouts and study guides that I’d missed so far in the term.

“It is so nice to meet you, Miss Ingle,” Professor Altus said, smiling. “I was delighted when Professor Clavish called to tell me you’d be joining us.”

“I’m sorry, who called you?” I asked, feeling as though I’d missed something.

“Professor Clavish, he’s the one who registered you for the course.”

“Oh, of course.” I smiled. So Jocelyn didn’t bother to take the ten minutes to sign me up himself as he’d implied. That was mildly annoying.

He pointed out one of the empty seats in the back of the room and I sat down, leaving my coat on so that no one would think the hideous hunk of gold on my arm was me trying to make a fashion statement. I opened my notebook, ready to dive into the beauty and elegance of the Gaelic language, until, that is, I looked up at the board and saw a huge chart analyzing the differences and uses of Class I and Class II verbs. And then it all came back to me. The reason I’d transferred out of French in high school. The reason my pitiful attempt to learn Latin on my own to impress colleges had imploded barely before it began.

Learning languages sucks.

It was overrated, complicated, and horribly boring. Sure the idea of being fluent in a foreign tongue was exciting and romantic, but the actual learning of said language was far from dreamy. I knew there were some people who really enjoyed it, and more power to them, but for me it was hell. How I’d managed to forget that on my walk over here was beyond me, but I certainly wouldn’t be forgetting it again. Give me the paintings of cavemen. That I would be happy to learn. You see an etching of a cow – it’s a cow. You don’t have to worry about whether the cow is male or female, or if it comes before or after the verb, or how many cows there are – it’s a cow. Unfortunately, there were no cave paintings or cows for me that day, only endless verb conjugation, and one excruciating hour later I was on my way back to Lorcan, more than happy to never return to Gaelic class ever again.

 

“Shouldn’t he be here by now?” I grumbled, as Cormac, Min, and I sat in the Inner Chamber waiting on Taron, who apparently had better things to do than be on time.

“I’m sure he’ll be along shortly,” Cormac said calmly.

“He’d better be. I need to go and check the potions on the cooker,” Min said, growing restless.

“Just take the Block off now and go,” I suggested, knowing that was the only reason she was there.

“It will be safer to wait,” Min persisted.

“Come on, I won’t do anything, I promise.”

“It may be beneficial,” Cormac chimed in, “to let her get reacquainted with the sensation of feeling the different abilities before she attempts to use them.”

Min looked at the pendant watch hanging from a long chain around her neck, for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes. “All right,” she sighed, reaching over for my arm. “I’ll come back to put it on again, make sure you don’t leave this room until I return.”

“Hello, there,” came a call from the Chamber door.

“Anderson,” Cormac replied. “What brings you to our little party?”

“Taron can’t make it, so here I am!”

“I get to train with you?” I asked, overjoyed at this turn of events. Not only did I not have to spend an afternoon with Taron, but I’d take Imparting over Discerning any day of the week!

“Aye,” he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “We’ll have a good time of it, we will!”

“All right, I’m off,” Min said, releasing my arm as the gentle brushing sensation of other’s abilities came rushing back to me. “I’ll return in an hour.” And with that, she left.

I took a moment to re-accustom myself to the feeling of my new sixth sense, but at least this time there were only two other abilities in the room, and not seven like the first time.

“How do you feel?” Cormac asked.

“Good,” I said, grinning. “It feels natural now, not weird anymore.”

“Excellent.”

“OK.” I hopped up off of the window ledge I’d been sitting on. “What’s first? What do I do?”

“Well,” Cormac said, smiling at my excitement, “that is up to you. Start out however you feel comfortable. Stretch your legs a bit.”

“Wait,” Mr Anderson said, holding his hand out. “What about Jocelyn? He’ll be stopping by, won’t he? We don’t want her accidentally latching on to him…”

“Don’t worry, Min has made sure that won’t happen.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, feeling out of the loop.

“We had to take special precautions when it came to Jocelyn,” Cormac said. “We have made sure that you will not be able to meld with or use his ability, even accidently, until you are ready.”

“Why not, what’s the big deal? You all worried that I’ll start reading your minds?” I laughed.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Cormac said, growing serious. “I’m not sure you realize how far-reaching Jocelyn’s ability actually is. He is one of the most powerful Holders in recorded history, and, like all Holders, his power increases with age. The vast majority of mind-reading Holders – even the fully empowered and awakened ones – can only read the thoughts passing through the average mind, and compel thoughts. Jocelyn however is in a league all his own. Not only can he read the thoughts a person thinks as they are thinking them, but can also look back into their memories, sifting through the millions of thoughts they have had over the course of their lifetime to find the exact thought or memory he wishes to see. Not only can he compel the thoughts of others, making them do anything he wishes, but he can change, create, and even erase memories, without the person having any idea it was done. And once a thought has been erased, it cannot be returned.”

“But you said he can create memories, couldn’t he just put back anything he erased?”

“The best he could do would be to recreate the memory, but it would never be the same as the original. If a thought or memory was only altered then he can set it right again, but once something is gone, it’s gone for good. So,” he chuckled, “you can see why we might be nervous about letting you have access to him in that sense, especially while you are still so new to this. You could try to read someone’s mind, and wind up accidentally eradicating every thought they have ever had.”

“And Ryland?” I asked, knowing his ability was less than a day from being fully awakened and suddenly fearing for all of humanity.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, guessing my fears. “The odds are that Ryland will be vastly less powerful than Jocelyn. At best he might be able to compel, but I doubt he will be able to cause any real damage. We won’t know for sure until tomorrow, but I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“What about me? Can I just skip that one altogether? Sounds like that safer option…”

“You will learn it in time, but that won’t come until much later, when you are ready. For now, we will keep to the abilities with a much smaller margin for error, like Imparting.” He gestured to Mr Anderson. “Now, relax, take a deep breath, and explore.”

I did as he suggested, taking a long breath in and out through my nose, and focusing on the abilities I felt in the room. Cormac’s was easy to recognize due to our experiment yesterday, and since I’d already joined with his energy once I turned my attention to Mr Anderson. Using my own ability I reached out to his specific touch against my mind, melding our abilities, just as I’d done with Cormac.

“Ho!” Mr Anderson said. “You did something there, didn’t you?”

“I’ve connected my ability with yours,” I admitted.

“What do you feel?” Cormac asked him.

“I don’t know.” He paused, looking slightly enamored. “It’s warm, comforting. If I didn’t know what it was, I might think it was only a change in my mood.”

“May I?” Cormac asked me, extending his hand. I took it in mine, allowing him to read us.

“Did I do it right?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” Cormac replied, “and quicker too this time. Was it difficult?”

“No, not at all,” I laughed, thrilled at how easy and natural it was, “but will people always know when I am connected to them?”

“Perhaps at first, but with practice you will learn subtlety.”

“Well, come on then, let’s give it a go!” Mr Anderson said, seeming as excited as I was.