Alight The Peril (10 page)

Cool.
Mason’s telepathic voice carried a wistful vibration. Did he feel left out? He was kind of a loner in the pyramidal union. He could only communicate with me via a link, and as far as I knew, his only real duty, aside from fighting evil—whatever that entailed—was to make sure I didn’t get hurt.

Maybe it would be better if Mason could meet Zane. They might be able to learn from each other, or at least compare notes on what it was like to be a Shield. I shifted and drew my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. Well, it sounded like a good idea in theory, but something about the thought of two Shields in the same place made me want to squirm. Like it would break some physical law of the universe.

“Okay, all,” Aunt Dorothy called, and waved over Ang, Sophie, Mason, and Mr. Sykes. She waited until everyone was gathered around her. “I imagine you’re ready for a break. We’ve much more to do today, but let’s take an hour to eat and rest.”

We all trudged toward the cars, Ang and Sophie with similar round-shouldered slouches. Mason stared at the ground, shuffling his feet. It seemed I was the only one who hadn’t done much work that morning. That probably would change this afternoon.

When we reached Aunt Dorothy’s house, Ang and Sophie pulled into the driveway and came in with me and Mason as if there was never any question we’d all spend our break together. Maybe they’d started picking up on the deep sense of bond growing between us that I had felt earlier.

Ang helped me set out potato salad, fruit, chips, and stuff for sandwiches, and we silently filled our plates. Mason made a second plate and ran it over to Mr. Sykes’s house. The activities of the morning had been a little much for the old guy, so he’d left us to rest at his house.

After we ate, the two Guardians went to the living room and sprawled on the sofa, one of them at each end like bookends. A tiny twinge of jealousy darted through me. They needed to bond as much as possible, but seeing them so cozy didn’t exactly thrill me.

Come to the den?
Mason’s voice drifted through my mind.

I went down the hallway and opened the door to the den. My grandmother’s desk and filing cabinet stood against one wall. The lights were off and the shades drawn, and Mason lay on the long, oversized sofa that occupied another wall, his eyes closed. I shut the door behind me.

You okay?
I kicked off my shoes and stretched out next to him.

Yeah, just a little worn out. For some reason the darkness helps.

His bare arm wasn’t radiating heat like usual. It was almost cool, as if he’d been drained of the fire that usually blazed in him. I had the urge to help him, somehow, like I’d helped Ang and Sophie in the meadow, but I wasn’t sure any of the influences would give him what he needed. I touched his cheek and he turned to nestle it against my fingers.

Can I do anything? You seem like you’re running out of steam.

He opened his eyes and gave me a half smile, half smirk.
Yeah, I can think of a few things you could do for me.

I snickered.
You know that’s not what I meant.

He reached over and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me. For once, he seemed to need my body heat instead of the other way around. My head on his shoulder, I breathed him in, soap mixed with a hint of perspiration. The anxiety that spurred me to gnaw my nails all morning seemed to slide away. I closed my eyes, suddenly hyperaware of his nearness, his breath on my hair, his hands pressed into my back. My heart skittered for a few beats.

I shifted, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach.
Seriously, what does it take to recharge? Just time?

Mmm . . . time helps. Mr. S is trying to teach me how to draw energy from other sources so I can recover faster.

From other people? Or from, like, the sun or something?

Mason snickered.
The sun? Like photosynthesis? I wish. No, it’s from people. He said I should do it only when I absolutely have to because it weakens them temporarily. He’s also teaching me a kind of meditation technique that helps the recovery process speed up. It’s hard, though. I’ll have to practice it a lot before I’ll be able to rely on it.

So what happens when you use another person’s energy?

I don’t know exactly how it works. I kind of reach into the person’s body with my mind, searching for the center of heat. For most people, that’s near the heart, apparently. Then I siphon some off. I have to be careful, though. If I take too much, the person could pass out. If I take it all, they’d die.

Die? Whoa.

Yeah.

I listened to the steady rhythm of his heart for a few seconds.
So you wanna try it? On me? Just a little, to practice. Don’t suck out my soul or anything.

His lips parted and his breath came a little faster.
I don’t know . . . I’ve only done it a couple of times.

Oh, come on. I trust you.

Well . . . okay.

What do I do? Anything?

Nope. Well, maybe just try not to distract me.

Okay.

I lay as still as I could, my heart tapping away in my chest. A tingle of anticipation rippled through me from head to foot. Then, a tiny point of heat traced a darting path to the center of my chest, like a honeybee zeroing in on a flower. The point expanded to engulf my heart, and I drew a sharp breath. Warmth burst through me, swelling for several seconds, and then it was gone, leaving me with the absence of heat, as if the sun had set after a long day of sunbathing.

I panted a little.
That . . . was
not
subtle. I think people are gonna notice if you do that to them.

Mason laughed softly, a deep rumble in his chest. His arms were suddenly warm around me.
So you felt it, huh?

Um, yeah.

I don’t think it’s usually like that. I tried it with Mr. S, and he, uh, didn’t react the way you just did.

A blush spread up my neck. I tried to play off my self-consciousness with a short laugh.
I sure hope it wasn’t like that for him. That’d be . . . awkward.

He pressed his lips to my temple.
You liked it, I take it?

The heat in my cheeks intensified.
I didn’t hate it.

I heard rustling outside the door, and then a soft tap that made me jump. “You guys? Aunt Dorothy wants to go back to the cove now,” Ang’s voice came softly through the door.

I sat up, pulling away from Mason.

Be right out,
I said to Ang through our link.

“Oh,” she said, and then through our link,
Okay.
I heard her retreat back down the hallway.

I pushed myself off the sofa and slipped on my shoes, avoiding Mason’s gaze.

Thanks. I feel a lot better,
he said.

Um, yeah, you’re welcome.

It was all I could do to calmly walk out of the den. My heart was flipping around in my chest like a fish on land. I couldn’t shake the sensation of Mason’s presence darting around in my chest. Not to mention the strange draining thrill when he took some of my energy, or whatever it was he did. I pressed both hands to my stomach.

When I reached the kitchen, I grabbed a sponge from the sink and started wiping down the already clean counters while Aunt Dorothy pulled on her straw sun hat. Mason’s voice was absent from my mind, but I knew he watched me.

Back at the cove, I used the influences to coax a family and a group of high school kids to vacate the area. We all gathered at one of the picnic tables, and Aunt Dorothy stood at one end as if preparing to lecture her class. Mr. Sykes sat a few feet away at a table in the shade. I picked at the peeling red paint on the table and made a little hill of paint chips. A vague pulsing vibration swelled in my head. Maybe I’d been out in the sun too long. Should have grabbed some Advil when we were at the house.

“Now, it’s time to see how the four of you work together,” said Aunt Dorothy. I swear there was a bit of an evil glint in her eye, and my stomach seemed to drop a couple of inches as nervous adrenaline streamed through me. I sat up straighter and abandoned my paint chip pile. “You’re going to try a drill.”

She pulled a bottle from the pocket of her khaki pants and set it on the table. It was a miniature version of the
pyxis
bottles, and looked just like the bottle she’d used for the
syndesmo
rites. This one contained liquid so green it was practically fluorescent.

Wonder if this one’s going to taste like ass, too?
Mason said, and I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. I shivered a little. That other miniature bottle held something that had been powerful enough to help me and Mason create a psychic bond. What would this one do?

From her other pocket, Aunt Dorothy produced a book of matches and an oblong, knotted piece of wood with intricate cracks forming a maze over its surface. The pulsing vibration I’d noticed when we gathered around the picnic table intensified. It was coming from the chunk of wood. My vision blurred and all sound faded away as every cell in my body seemed to attune to the vibration. Just as quickly as it had come over me, the sensation disappeared. I looked at the others to see if they noticed the vibration, too. But Ang, Sophie, and Mason were still watching Aunt Dorothy with rapt attention. She was unscrewing the dropper cap on the bottle of green liquid.

Angeline opened her mouth, and Aunt Dorothy let a drop of the green liquid fall onto her tongue. She did the same for Mason and Sophie, and then it was my turn. A sweet, tart flavor spread over my taste buds, like a hundred green Jolly Ranchers distilled down to one drop.

Ang stared out across the lake, looking kind of spaced out.
Ooohhhh,
she crooned through our link, just as everything began to shimmer like a desert mirage. Colors intensified and edges softened, as if I’d stepped into an impressionist’s version of the cove. Then it all slid back into normal focus.

Aunt Dorothy put the bottle back in her pocket and picked up the matchbook. She lit a match and held it to the underside of the grooved piece of wood. It didn’t ignite, but faint tendrils of smoke began wafting out through the cracks in the top. She shook the match with one hand until it extinguished, then motioned for us to follow her back to the meadow. I inhaled the aroma of the smoke—a mix of eucalyptus, almond, and something musty I couldn’t quite place—and stared wide-eyed at the flowers, from which colors seemed to burst, so vivid they nearly trembled.

“Angeline and Sophie, back to your places,” Aunt Dorothy directed. “Mason and Corinne, over there.” She pointed to a spot at the back of the meadow, near the trees, where Mason and Mr. Sykes had been earlier.

What do you think is going on?
I asked Mason. I was picking my way carefully, trying not to crush any blooms.

I’m not sure, but . . .
He stopped, and I looked up and followed his gaze.

In the forest, under cover of the trees, the dirty gray fog from our nightmares billowed toward us.

|| 11 ||

MY HEART SKITTERED WITH PANIC. There was something worse, much more horrifying about this fog than the one from my dreams. This one seemed to pulse, even groan faintly as it wrapped around tree trunks and penetrated low brush. It moved like a living thing, and malice emanated from it in dark waves. Just as I had feared the fog leaching into my body in my nightmares, now the thought of those malevolent vibrations permeating my mind, poisoning my thoughts, made me want to scream for help.

Some part of my mind recognized that this was a drill, that what I saw probably wasn’t real, but the memory of terror chilled me to my core. I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut against it. What was I supposed to do? Aunt Dorothy hadn’t given us any warning or direction. I knew I must react, do something, but what?

A wave of heat burst across my bare arm like a blast of hot air from an oven. Mason was gathering his strength beside me. Even in full daylight, his skin glowed faint white. He raised his hand, and a streak of light shot into the dark cloud before us. An electric crackle zapped through the air as the light dissolved the leading edge of the fog. The resulting smell of ozone hit me in the face and jarred me loose of the grip of fear.

I stepped toward the forest and the dirty billowing cloud. My breath came fast and shallow, edging toward hyperventilation. I had to stay focused and stand my ground. The fog continued to spread through the trees, and Mason let loose zap after zap of crackling light.

Corinne, you have to help me. I can’t hold it by myself.

I licked my dry lips. Against every instinct that was telling me to run, get the heck out of there before this horrible
thing
could seep into me, I reached out to it with my mind. I sensed a core back there somewhere, a source from which the fog emerged. Just as Mason had probed for the energetic point near my heart, I searched for the source of the thing in front of me.

The closer I got to the source, the more I wanted to recoil. It was like reaching into a putrid, rotting corpse with my bare hand, searching for the black, swollen heart inside. My skin crawled with goose bumps. The thought of accidentally inhaling some of the fog made me whimper. I forced myself to breathe normally.

When I finally reached the core with my mind, I formed a swirl of
pyxis
influences, a rainbow whirlpool with proportions determined purely by instinct, and made it swell until I thought I’d burst. Then, with all the force I could muster, I hurled it toward the fog’s core. Stumbling back a couple of steps, I tried to watch the entire tree line at once.

The fog dissipated and dissolved, leaving only clear air and sunshine. With a shuddering breath, I sank to my knees, pressing my palms into the grass and pine needle mat covering the ground.

Someone touched the top of my head. Aunt Dorothy’s canvas sneakers appeared near my fingers.