“How did you do that? I mean, how did you move so fast?” I asked.
“Well, sometimes I do move fast, but sometimes I cannot.”
The man’s face darkened. A wave of cold air flooded the room and I wrapped the emerald blanket around my body tighter.
“I am sorry, I do not follow,” I said with a knot in my throat.
“I mean that one day I can speed up time, the other I cannot. One day I can pass through objects, the other I cannot. One day I am a speedster, the other I am not. And so on.”
“So, you have many super-powers. Or should I rather call them gifts?”
“You can call whatever you like. The fact is that I do not really know if I possess any special ability. And if I do possess one, I do not know how to maintain it and use it for more than a couple of minutes.”
He turned his face toward the fireplace and the reflection of the flames glowed in his eyes. As a shiver chased itself up my back, I perched on the couch. I was not sure I wanted his company anymore. Out of the corner of my eyes, I examined the room, only to confirm what I already knew. There was no way out.
Silence prevailed in the dark room. I tucked my body into the warm blanket and avoided lifting my eyes to the man, who was still standing with his gaze nailed to the flames of the fireplace. The icy silence was broken by an old cuckoo clock located across the room, which crowed five times.
Emerging sharply from his thoughts, the man walked towards me. His abrupt movement made me curl up with fear.
“First, let me introduce myself. It was an omission on my part that I failed to do so earlier. My name is Arthur Tyrrell,” he said and bowed slightly.
The flickering firelight shone on his beautiful features, his long straight nose, almond eyes, and thin lips.
“I am Gwen.”
“Forgive me, I did not ask you, is warm enough for you in here?” he asked.
My heart filled at once with warmth, like the fireplace had expelled the cold feeling I had since I awoke in my new bedroom.
“It is okay.” I nodded but remained perched in the corner of the couch. “To be honest I feel like I am in the middle of a dream. I cannot believe that this is real.”
“I cannot blame you. I felt shocked when I first got here too. It is been three years since then and I am still not convinced that I belong here.”
His voice sounded sweet, like an old familiar lullaby. “What is your gift, Gwen?” he asked with a kind tone to his voice.
“I am a time hopper.”
“Like Morgan. Have you met Morgan? She is one of the most talented time hopers of all time.”
I grinned. He sounded too excited about that Morgan’s achievements.
The old cuckoo clock located across the room crowed six times.
“It is time to get ready for the morning classes,” he said. “If you excuse me, I have to get back to my room and change clothes. Gwen, it is a pleasure to have you here.”
I nodded and I watched him as he moved across the library room until he was lost into the shadows.
“This place has started getting interesting,” I muttered as I walked fast to get back to my room.
CHAPTER 7
*
“Despite the common belief, black roses do exist. You might have seen them growing in our courtyard. Our ancestors were those who planted the first seeds, seeds they brought from their trips to Tibet centuries ago,” Goimar Flaura, our Professor of Magical Flowers and Plants said.
That first lesson in the Avallon Academy was not exactly as thrilling as I had expected. “What a yawn,” I thought as I tried to keep my eyelids open. The lesson was beyond boring, however Mr. Falura with his lime-green hair, pink bowtie, and his fuchsia dotted skirt (yes, skirt!) was atoningly colorful.
“In the flower language, the black rose is the symbol of hatred and death. However, the language of flowers, established in the 19th century, ignores the true symbolism of the black rose, the symbolism that was given by the first alchemists: revitalization, renewal, and regeneration.”
I could not figure out why but Professor Flaura reminded me of a fancy birthday cake.
Oh, how much I yearned for a hot cup of tea with a slice of red velvet cake.
“What’s all this crap? I just want a burger and a shake!”
A young man’s voice echoed loudly in my mind. I almost left a cry out, but I managed to stop myself from expressing my distress.
I stood still and patient, as if I had not listened to the words that had been formed in my mind by a voice that did not belong to me. Instead, I played nervously with the pencil in my hands.
“I am starving, too,” the male voice talked into my mind.
I looked around nervously and I saw a young boy smiling at me.
“You are so cute,” he continued.
“You are so cute yourself, but I don’t date,” I told him telepathically. I didn’t even know that I could do that. Apparently, telepathy was not my gift, but since a telepathic had invaded my mind, I could answer him back with my own thoughts.
I almost choked as I sensed him caressing my curves with his eyes while his thoughts were mostly concentrated on how he could ask me out.
“Where are you from?” The guy continued. He was younger than me and his ways did not impress me at all.
“I am from Mars, the planet,” I replied, enjoying his confusion. The look on his face gave away that he thought I was telling the truth. “On Mars, we used to have humans en croute for starters.” I tried to keep a serious face on as I realized that I had given him the shock of his life.
I kind of enjoyed the
