“It means most people can’t do what you do,” Abi said as we sat down. “I didn’t catch all of your technique, it happened too fast. But I did see you fill your aura with aspects faster than I thought was possible. That’s a unique gift you have.”
Abi’s voice was low and grave. I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me with suspicion, concern, or admiration. He was hard to read, and my paranoia didn’t make it any easier to decipher his thoughts. He could have easily been congratulating a friend on learning something new.
Or, as a member of the Portal Defense Force, he could have been telling me that he knew I was an Eclipse Warrior and should watch my step.
“It’s probably because I had to teach myself so many things,” I said. “Being a camper and all, you know how it is.”
I felt a twinge of shame at using my background to deflect the conversation. Campers made Empyreals very uncomfortable. Most of those who lived in the overcities would just as soon pretend the poor people in the slums beneath them didn’t exist. Rachel said it was because they couldn’t reconcile the fact that they lived in luxury only because most people couldn’t.
“Oh, no,” Eric said. “Don’t look now.”
I glanced up instinctively and saw Clem and Rachel headed in our direction. They walked side by side, their trays of half-eaten breakfast balanced on their hands, their faces carefully neutral.
“We should go,” Abi said.
“Please don’t,” I pleaded.
“Hey guys,” Clem said, her voice so pleasant I was sure she was being sarcastic. “Room for two more?”
“Yeah,” Eric said uncertainly. “Sure.”
Clem sat across from me, between Eric and Abi.
Rachel took the seat next to me.
That division felt a little too much like taking sides for my comfort. I traced aimless lines in the syrup on my plate and waited for the hammer to fall.
“We were talking,” Rachel said with a nod toward Clem, who shot me a smile so wide and bright I thought she might bite me. “About us.”
“Us,” I said noncommittally.
“You know,” Clem said, her grin growing wider by the second. “About your picnic.”
“Yes,” Rachel confirmed. “Clem’s fine with everything. She says you were just good friends. And I want you to stay good friends.”
There was a glimmer of pain in Clem’s eyes at the words. Her smile tightened, just a little, almost impossible to notice.
But I saw it.
And it hurt.
“Yes,” Clem confirmed, her smile painfully wide. “We’re all going to be great friends, from now on.”
Eric and Abi glanced at me with sympathy in their eyes.
Oh, man. What had I done?
As it turned out, things weren’t nearly as bad as I’d worried they’d be. Clem and Rachel really did seem to get along. I didn’t catch even a whiff of argument between the two of them after that. Clem never mentioned Rachel during our scrivenings tutorial sessions, which was both a relief and annoying. I was glad Clem hadn’t been hurt by my choice but couldn’t help but wonder why she wasn’t at least a little upset.
But, as the days of January passed, the last of the tension between Clem and me faded and our group of four grew to five. We ate our meals together, helped each other with our classes, and spent more time goofing off at my cottage than we probably should have.
The only dark spot on those weeks was that Abi was gone more often than not. The Portal Defense Force kept him and the other students hopping, and more than once he and his fellow cadets all missed class on the same day. When that happened, I was surprised by how many students were working for the PDF.
It also made me wonder which of my classmates were secretly working for their clans or other, darker, forces. If Rafael, Hagar, and I were all working for our clans, it was very possible that there were other students who’d decided they wanted to be heretics when they grew up. I’d have to bring that up to Hagar.
Not that I saw much of my handler. She was out of classes far more than she attended, and I wondered how many of the professors and staff the Shadow Phoenix clan had paid off to keep her absences quiet. As days without Hagar turned into weeks, I threw myself into my studies and martial arts practice.
That, at least, turned out to be a good use of my time.
Professor Song started us on a new kind of meditation that involved the repetition of modified martial arts forms in a fluid cycle. It was supposed to bring our bodies and minds into closer unity, and I was surprised when it actually worked.
My Thief’s Shield technique had shown me the key to integrating my serpents, aura, and core. What it hadn’t done, though, was push my core to the next level. I’d been stuck at initiate all year, and the meditation techniques I’d tried seemed to make my dark urges more dangerous and forced me to back off before I lost control.
Professor Song’s new meditation style changed that.
The regimented motions opened a new understanding within me. I suddenly understood how my core worked with my body to harness and direct the sacred energy that was the key to all life. The sweep of my arm wasn’t just muscles and bones moving according to the demands of my mind. It was an extension of the natural flow of jinsei through the universe. When I was in tune with what the jinsei wanted to do, everything was easier, simpler.
That revelation allowed me to harness more spiritual power without enticing the dark urge to surface. On one crisp Wednesday morning in the middle of February, I found myself so deep in Professor Song’s guided meditation that my core ached with the power it contained. The rest of my class disappeared from my thoughts as I
