Earthbound

I’m so screwed.

Maybe Benson will lend me some.

No. I can’t. I can’t ask him for anything else.

Maybe I shouldn’t even stay with him. What if they decide to just murder him too?

“I’m going to see if Reese and Jay have any money sitting around in their room.” I should just say what I mean: I’m going to see if I can steal some money from Reese and Jay.

What else can I do?

I guess if I had to, I could magic myself some money when I went to buy something, but when it disappeared five minutes later, wouldn’t I still be a thief? I can hurt people and steal stuff. Why the hell is this happening to me?

If I have to take something from someone, at least I know Reese and Jay are the bad guys.

So why do I still feel guilty?

Maybe because I know my mother wouldn’t be proud of me at this moment, and that thought makes me want to die inside.

After a quick glance down the hallway, where I can still hear Elizabeth yelling, I go and stand in front of Reese and Jay’s bedroom door. When I reach for the knob and turn it, it gives easily.

They didn’t lock it.

They trust me.

It’s a thought so jarringly dissonant from my actions that I stop, hand still poised on the knob as I try to think clearly. Why should they trust me? Do they think I’m that ignorant? Or do they think I’m so under their control that I couldn’t possibly be dangerous?

Do they control me? Even after everything that’s happened, the fact is that I don’t know what I am.

And they do.

The door skims across the carpet as I push it open, a whisper in the silent bedroom. They have a chic, deco-style room with a sleek black king-size bed and square silver bedside tables. Wondering if I’ll leave foot prints on the carpet—and then deciding it doesn’t matter—I stride first to Reese’s side of the bed, then Jay’s.

The top of Reese’s table is empty except for the lamp. I’m not surprised. Bedside tables tend to reflect a person’s personality more accurately than any clinical test, in my opinion. Sparse, elegant, and organized. That’s Reese.

Still, a peek into the table’s shallow drawer nets me seventeen dollars, crisply folded.

Jay’s side is more profitable—forty-six dollars—but also a thicker, more crumpled wad. It’s probably been weeks, maybe months, since he cleaned up the pile of junk he’s clearly been emptying from his pockets each night.

I have about a hundred dollars.

That won’t last long. But it’s a start.

I turn and Benson is waiting for me in the doorway. His eyes are concerned.

Of course they are. I just used my supernatural powers to incapacitate a grown woman and now am stealing things and running away like a crazy person.

I slide past him without looking and stuff the cash in the small pocket of my backpack. I look around my room, wondering what else to bring. Is it stealing to take the laptop they gave me? That seems worse than the money I just filched. But the computer technically is mine.

I pause. What if it’s bugged?

Not bugged exactly, but what if they can find me through it? You see that kind of stuff in crime shows all the time, and I honestly don’t know if that’s one of those “facts” they’ve grossly exaggerated or if it’s actually true.

Still.

Making a split decision, I grab it and shove it into my backpack, then yank the zippers closed before I can change my mind.

I can’t look at my art supplies. They feel important again. Necessary—like I can’t find Quinn without them.

And I have to find Quinn if I want answers.

But I can’t take them. There’s just no room.

And now I have to decide: Phoenix or Camden?

Quinn told me to meet him in Camden, but Reese seemed to think there was something important in Phoenix. Something to do with me. But … Phoenix is a big city. I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve never been there before.

I sigh. Somehow I always wind up forced to trust Quinn. Quinn who never stays, who never answers questions.

Who makes my heart leap and my blood warm.

Camden it is.

“I’m ready to go,” I say to Benson, and I hate that my voice wavers. I feel weak, confused. I can create things out of nothing—I should feel strong and in charge.

But I don’t.

“Tavia, we …” Benson pauses and licks his lips nervously. “We should get out of the house,” he finishes, though I know that’s not what he was going to say.

We walk out into the hallway and Elizabeth yells, “I think they’ve found you, Tave. You’re not safe out there. The Reduciata will get you—they want you more than any of our other Earthbounds. They—”

“Earthbound,” I whisper, not hearing the rest of Elizabeth’s sentence. I’ve heard the word before—in Elizabeth’s phone conversation with Reese. But it’s something more. A word that echoes in whispers in my head. Earthbound … Earthbound …

Benson is tugging lightly on my hand. “We have to go.”

“Please,” Elizabeth adds in a softer voice—but one I’m obviously meant to hear, “you don’t know how to use your powers well enough to truly protect yourself.”

I gasp and whirl around to face her. She knows.

A phrase rises into my mouth and spills off my tongue before I can stop it. “Sum Terrobligatus; declarare fidem.”

Elizabeth’s eyes grow so wide I can see the whites all around them.

But she says nothing.

Anger boils inside me and I stoop to pick up the gun she dropped and turn it around on her. “Declarare fidem!” My hand shakes—a hand that doesn’t feel like mine. What are these words? What am I doing? I choke back a sob as everything I thought I knew about myself blows away.

I’m a monster.

“Curatoria,” she gasps.

“What did you just say?” Benson whispers.

“I have no clue,” I whisper back.

And I don’t. But I should! I’m sure I should! The same way I ought to know the meaning of all the words Elizabeth just said. Pushing those thoughts away, I cock the pistol, letting the eerie click fill the office. “You want me to trust you; why were you pointing a gun at me?”

“Because I didn’t know how much you knew about your powers,” Elizabeth answers instantly, her neck craned awkwardly to look up at me. “How much control you had.”

I don’t like it, but what can I do? I might have been dangerous. I probably could have killed her. I wonder if she kept that gun in her office too—if she got nervous every time I walked into her waiting room.

Her empty waiting room.

It’s always empty.

I am such an idiot.

Why is it that I always see everything after it’s too late?

The waiting room has been empty every single time I have ever come in to see