The Hierophant (Book 1 in The Arcana Series) (13 page)

I decide I don't want to talk about it. It's not a real part of my life. It may be a huge reason why I don't trust people, why I refuse to get close to anyone, why I prefer to be alone than in groups, and so on and so on. But it's not a part of
who I am
. I'll be gone soon, and then I'll be in a world where people have better things to do than make fun of you for your hair color, height, or heritage. Mostly, anyway. I hope.

“Are you okay?” Trebor asks after a moment.

“Fine.” I smile. “So, are you any closer to finding what you're looking for?”

He hesitates before answering, seeing that I'm intentionally avoiding discussing what happened. “I think I'm closer to finding someone else who knows where it is, so yes.”

“And you think it has something to do with me? I mean, I'm just trying to figure out why you were asking everyone about me...”

Trebor steps out in front of me and stops me. “I'm sorry, Ana. I didn't mean to draw their attention. I didn't realize—”

“Forget about it, Trebor, it's not your fault.” I frown, really not wanting to get back on that subject. “But, what does your
quest
have to do with me?”

Trebor looks into my eyes, and if he had any less mastery of himself and his composure, I think he might have sighed. “You're a power hub, Ana. The same way the Sura are drawn to you, I was drawn to you. Things like us, and others like you, will also be drawn to you.”

“How come I'm not drawn to others like me? That would have been helpful these past few years.” I step past him, and we keep walking.

“You're growing into what you are. You're getting stronger. But you don't know how to use your power—it's unfocused and scattered. You see, and you can't stop seeing. You feel, and you can't stop feeling. It's here.” He reaches over and touches my stomach, just below my solar plexus.

I fall back, reeling from the touch, from the explosion of hummingbirds at my core.

Trebor catches my arm before I actually fall. “Ana?”

“You—what did you do that for?” I ask, wide-eyed and shaking with the aftermath, leaning against the cool tiles on the wall.

“Do what?” His brow furrows.

I reach to touch my stomach, but his hand follows mine back there. He flattens his palm against me, and I whimper, eyes rolling back and closing.

“Ana?”

My guts squeeze and twist—the air leaves my body—my head swims. The electric current in my veins thrums and surges, vibrating through the marrow in my bones. I feel as if I'm racing through time, as if I'm falling up, screaming through the rabbit hole.

“Ana,” Trebor says my name, firmly, and just loud enough to cut through the roaring of my own blood in my ears.

I open my eyes, and find him hunched over me, concern written on his face. I'm sitting on the ground—I must have slid down the wall.

“What happened?” he asks.

“You didn't feel it?” I whisper.

He shakes his head.

“You didn't...” I frown, and even though it seems presumptuous, and even though it feels forward and frightening, I put my hand on his stomach where he touched me.

He covers my hand with his own, holds it there, stares back at me, as if this is perfectly natural. “Are you okay?”

“You don't feel anything?” I feel a vibration under my fingertips that I know is not really there, but my own explosion of energy has subsided.

Trebor shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “This is what I'm talking about, Ana. These things you feel, if you had more control over your awareness, your power, you wouldn’t be so thrown by each little thing.”

“Little?” I snort. “You didn't feel it. It wasn't little.”

He studies me, and nods. “I know. Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. “I’m going to help you. Do you know somewhere we could go, where we could have privacy?”

I take my hand back, dust off the back of my pants. “What about your search?”

“I can do both. Besides, this is just as important.”

“Really.” I don't believe that. “Training me to control my power is as important as finding this universe-breaking key thing you're looking for.”

He hushes me as a handful of other students pass by, leans closer and murmurs. “Better not to talk about it here. I'll meet you after school.”

I almost don't hear him, because when he leans close, his head next to mine, I can feel the warmth of his breath on my ear, and see his neck muscles working his jaw, and everything alive in him feels alive in me. I don't understand his words until he's backing away and blood is rushing to my face.

“Where should I meet you?” I ask, blinking.

He smiles, hands in his pockets, hair tousled and smile crooked—perfectly normal. Perfectly human.

“Don't worry. I'll find you.”

— 29 —

“I heard what happened in the cafeteria with John and Kristen,” Kyla says in the parking lot after school. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. It's not the first time I've been called names. It's not the last time John Cassidy calls me names, I'm sure.” I roll my eyes. “I was just really embarrassed it happened in front of Trebor.”

“Yeah, what happened with him?” Kyla snickers. “Word is he put John and Kristin in their place.”

I grimace. “I'm sure he upset them, but it didn't exactly save the day.” I sniff. “That's fine, though. I don't want some dude to come along and save me. I'd like to be able to solve my own problems.”

“Yeah,” Kyla agrees. “Meanwhile, what's going on with you and Andy?”

“What? Nothing. Nothing ever was going on.”

“Right. So you weren’t planning on telling me you two went for coffee yesterday?”

“Of course I was going to tell you, but it was nothing—”

“Ana!” Andy calls to me from across the lot. John is at his side, hands shoved deep inside his coat pockets.

“Shit. What now?” I breathe.

“Hold up,” Andy calls, jogging over with John in tow. “John?”

He looks at me, eyes like firebrands. “Sorry for being a dick earlier.”

I stare at him, then at Andy—who is smirking. I don't trust this. I don't trust that this isn't a setup for something worse. Even though Andy has been nice to me, this is
beyond
nice. This is suspicious.

“Uh,” I blink, look to Kyla for support, but she only raises her eyebrows. “Um. Okay. Thanks.”

John nods, looks at Andy, and stalks away, over to his hand-me-down SUV. He had hideous blue flames painted onto its sides over the summer, but they look like tentacles at this distance.

I turn to Andy. “What did you say to him?”

Andy shrugs. “Just that his behavior was rude and immature and totally uncalled for.”

I cock an eyebrow. “And he willingly agreed and decided to apologize?”

“Maybe.” He smiles.

I’m not sure I like it.

“Hey, A,” Kyla says, unobtrusively. “I’ll see you later.” She waves to Andy and runs off towards her Vespa before I can stop her.

I sigh and turn back to him. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but it is the second time today I’ve had to say it. “It’s not like he means it, anyway. The guy has been harassing me pretty much since I had my first growth spurt.”

Andy smiles, shrugging. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he won’t really change. But he’ll at least think twice about harassing you from here on out.” He hesitates, then looks at his feet. “Listen…I was wondering…”

I brace myself for something awkward to happen.

“I came across some research on modern nomadic North American tribes that talks about your clan.”

“The Ouros? Really?” I’m shocked.

“Yeah. Evans-Pritchard spent some time with them in the early twentieth century. So, I was thinking if you wanted to get coffee again tonight, we could check out what I found. I figured you might be interested.”

I think about it, eager and hesitant all at once. Andy makes me nervous, no doubt about that. But doesn’t Trebor make me nervous, too? I guess the difference is that with Trebor I feel excited. With Andy, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Still. He’s being
nice
. He’s being
helpful
. He
might
have ulterior motives, but until those are revealed I can at least take him up on his offer to help me better understand where I come from. I have to
try
to trust other human beings besides Kyla, don’t I?

“I actually have this thing going on like right now, after school—I’m not sure how long it’s going to go till.” I bite my lip, thinking—probably over-thinking.

He nods. “That’s cool. Later this week maybe? I mean, if you have time.”

“Yeah. I’ll be in touch, we’ll figure something out.”

“Awesome,” Andy says. “Talk to you later then!” He jogs off in the direction of his car, waving at me with his keys in his hand.

I try to decipher the jangles nerves he leaves behind, but I can’t quite understand it.

— 30 —

When I get home, I'm horrified to find Trebor is already there, chatting with my father in the kitchen.

“Ana, you didn't tell me you were getting tutored in chemistry?” My father says, smiling. He and Trebor have been getting along well, it seems.

“I'm not,” I say, cocking my head at Trebor.

“This is our first session,” Trebor elaborates. “We'll see how it goes.”

“Great,” Dad says, slapping us both on the shoulder. “Love the initiative, Ana. More tutoring, less detentions. Well, I'll let you get to it! Ana, I'm heading out for second shift at the fire station, so I’ll see you later.”

I nod, fall into his familiar, lopsided hug, and watch him grab his keys and go, beaming.

“Thanks for setting him up for a huge disappointment.” I turn back to Trebor when my father is gone. “I'm pretty sure I’m failing chemistry.”

“Well, depending on what kind of ethics you have in regards to institutionalized learning and standardized testing, we can fix that.” Trebor smiles.

I raise my eyebrows, considering his offer.

“In the meantime, your father trusts me, is maybe even
glad
to see me, and is willing to leave us alone together in your house, where we have the privacy we need to get started.”

I nod, impressed, leading Trebor into the living room. “Fathers, lock up your daughters. You really are a sneaky bastard. Is this part of being an Irin, or something you're trained to do?”

Trebor shrugs. “Who knows? It's one and the same. Irin are literally made for this work.”

“Sneaking around, watching people, saving them from Sura?”

“We're soldiers in an angelic army, defending humans from dark forces.”

“Poetic.”

“Naturally. Now, let's discuss a few things. Your mother.”

I sit down on the couch, heart limping for a moment.

“Tell me what she taught you about magic.”

I nod, and tell him about protection spells, simple divinations, reading tarot. I tell him about runes, and celestial alphabets, and amulets. Simple things, really—all things that you can learn about from any book in the New Age section at the book store, but with slight twists unique to her clan, the Ouros.

“She never gave you any instruction on how to control your power?”

I shake my head. “It never came up. It wasn't even an idea. In the Ouros tradition, we have no power—we're just conduits.”

Trebor ponders that. “That's true, to a degree. But your power lies in your will, in the strength of the current of magic that flows through you.
It
doesn't belong to you, but your ability to access it does. Like a city with a port has greater access to waterways.” He pauses, gives me a funny look. “Humans Fall all the time, but most of you have very weak access to waterways, even if the water itself rushes faster than normal.”

I consider his analogy and look down at my hands, palms up, like his hands were in my dream last night. What kind of power could I possibly have? Even when I feel that maddening surge in my veins, I'm impotent. There is no channeling—only bursting.

Trebor surprises me by taking my hands in his, holding them, thumb-in-palm, a current of electricity running from his thumbs to my throat—it's all I can do not to gasp. And it's not just his touch—it's him. It's something in him.

He breathes evenly, focused, analyzing. “What does it feel like?”

With the current thrumming in me, his voice sinks its hooks into my guts again, and I shudder. “Now?”

He nods.

“Like you're jamming live wires into my hands and they're coming up my throat.”

“Hmm. Visceral.”

“Very.”

He puts my hands palms together and holds them between his own, and looks me in the eyes. “Is it less harsh now?”

I nod. “It's still there, but turned down a notch or two. It's worse when you—well.” I stop, because it sounds awkward.

“When I touch you?” Trebor finishes, still holding my hands between his own.

I nod. “But not right now, for some reason.”

“Only certain places.” He nods. “Are you familiar with the human energy meridian system?”

“What, like they use in acupuncture?”

Trebor nods. “Ancient human cultures were much closer to the subtle energy systems of your world. Meridians, lay lines, the effects of planetary alignment on the physical and mental world—these are all real things, all still present. Most of your race has just blinded themselves to it, in favor of rationalization. For centuries, humans have been trying to parse their world into categorical definitions and a predictable, controllable science, when the truth is, no such thing exists.”

“Oh,” I say. “So you’re saying humans are control freaks. So, what, do Irin not have science?”

“Magic is the only science we need.” He smiles. “Back to you, though. Ancient Hindu culture discovered energy centers within the human body that, when blocked, can affect your physical and mental state. They call them chakras.”

“I know about chakras,” I tell him. “I just...never appropriated it.”

“Appropriated?”

“It's another person's culture, I figured I wouldn't understand it properly.”

“It's your culture, too, Ana. You're human.”

“Oh. I’ve never thought of it that way. So, why do you know about all of this then?”

He grins. “Because I'm fascinated by how much humans have in common with us and have no idea.”

“So, then, the chakras in my hands—and the one at my solar plexus...”

“Your personal power center.”

“So, all of them would feel like live wires if you touched them?”

Trebor reaches out, not too swiftly, and brushes my hair away from my neck, making me shiver in a very different way. He touches under my ear. “Feel relatively normal?”

“Um, sure.” Absolutely not.

His fingertips move to the front of my throat, and I want to scream. Not because it hurts, but because there's such an explosion of energy there that my vocal chords want to tremble and roar. I yelp instead, and swat his hand away.

“Sorry,” we both say.

“I see what you're saying.” I rub my throat, hoping it will help the energy dissipate. “So, why is it that you make my chakras go all supernova?”

“It's probably just because of what I am,” he says quickly. “I'm sure any Irin would have the same effect. Our composition is different from yours—magic is in our bones. It's probably just a reaction to that.”

“Okay,” I nod, even though he sounds like he’s still trying to convince himself of what he’s saying. “So, again, why is it that I'm experiencing this? I see Sura. I see your kind, even though you didn't think it was possible for a human to see an Irin in hiding. And I have this need to explode with an energy that you think is magic.”

Trebor takes a deep breath and considers me, brow furrowed. “I honestly don't know. There must be something different about you that we're unaware of. There are nomadic clans in Sheol, like your mother’s—down there they're called Zee. It could be that your clan is descended from them. But they aren’t exactly human.”

“You think they might be descended from Sura? But then why would they pass on traditions that scorned them?”

“Maybe the Zee are descended from
your
clan. Members who have Fallen.”

“I thought Fallen humans all burn themselves out?”

“They do, but sometimes they survive in Sheol in a
changed
form. No longer human.”

I feel a pang in my chest, but it doesn't make sense. “I don't think that's true. The Ouros are proud of their fight against the Sura. They're one of the only clans left that has kept the old stories alive. Their magic is earth-based, archaic—almost all of it is about protection against dark forces.”

Trebor raises his hands. “Hey, you don't have to convince me. It was just a theory. In other words: I don't know why you have the abilities that you have. But does it matter at this point?”

“No, I guess not. Sorry.” I sigh and shake my head. “Sorry for a lot. I've been pretty rude to you, and I know you're just trying to help.”

Trebor shrugs and looks sheepish. “I wasn't going to help, actually. I’m taking a huge risk by telling you all of this. But it dawned on me that if I don't help you understand what's happening to you, the Sura are going to get to you first.”

I nod. “And kill me.”

“Not exactly.”

“That's what it looked like in the creek the other night.”

Trebor frowns. “Do you know about the different kinds of Sura?”

I shrug. “Only a little.”

“You have Zee, like I mentioned. And there are the chimeras, and shadow people. Wraiths. You’ve seen plenty of them, I assume—they have the easiest time slipping through the cracks in the veil when it thins since they aren’t fully tangible themselves. And of course you met one of the water demons. And then there are skinwalkers. Right now, they're your biggest threat. Skinwalkers are incorporeal—they don't have bodies. What they do is take over bodies of humans who are either willing, or dying. At the brink of death, they funnel into your body and bring it back to life. They cut the thread of your spirit when they take over. Your spirit goes on, to wherever you believe spirits go.”

“So they want to kill me to take over my body? Why?”

“Not kill you.
Empty
you. Because your ability to use magic is a physical manifestation. It's something in your genes, or something you've developed maybe, like a muscle—but whatever it is, it’s tied to your body. If you're a powerful human witch, then the skinwalker will be, too. Only, skinwalkers have been alive for thousands of years. They will know how to wield your power as a weapon more dangerous than you can imagine.”

“Huh.” I bite my lip. “So, you're just training me because you don't want that to happen. Because that would be bad news for the Irin and the Malakiim.”

Trebor cocks his head, thinks about it longer than I like. “I would be lying if I said that was true. But, yes, that is what I should say.”

“Why?”

Trebor shrugs. “We're not supposed to get involved with humans. Just protect them.”

“No, I mean why would you be lying?”

Trebor scratches his head, smiles a grimace of a smile. “Well, just because I'm not human doesn't mean I'm a monster. You'd do the same for me.”

“Hmm, maybe.” I smirk. “So, aside from keeping your hands off me, what do I do about this mysterious power surge thing?”

He laughs, and grabs my left hand, thumb in palm.

“What are you—” I can't finish the sentence.

“Time to learn, Anastasia.” Trebor puts two fingertips over my heart.

My insides take flight. There is nothing but a gale howling through the empty cavity, whistling through my bones, singing under my skin. A light explodes behind my eyes, building a pressure that pushes against my ears. My heart beats once, hard and long, as if inflating. My throat itches to scream—my fingertips are on fire, my feet feel rooted to the ground even as my legs burn to run.

“Stop trying to hold onto it,” Trebor instructs me, his voice sinking into me like a fist through wet plaster. My whole internal framework begins to crumble. “You can't contain it—it's a force beyond your understanding—beyond mine, beyond anyone's. You have to let go, and let down your guard.”

“How?” I hiss between gritted teeth, wondering if the word even came out of my mouth or just bounced through my head.

“Let go. Give up. Stop fighting.”

That voice wraps around me, runs its fingers through my hair, holds me tight enough to know that I will be caught if I should fall. I feel my hand shaking, squeezing Trebor's so hard I'm afraid I'm hurting him.

“Let go, Ana. I've got you. It's okay to let go.”

I take a breath, feel his palm over my heart, heat searing my skin, and just like the night I almost drowned, when I could not stop shivering except for when I grew too weak to use those muscles—I find a moment where the clenching stops, where I breathe out and my shoulders drop, my stomach relaxes, my hand lets go of Trebor's, and a light huge and beautiful consumes the confusion inside my head—

I'm screaming—

I'm floating—

I'm going to throw up—

“Ana,” Trebor's voice travels down my spine, and I discover that I'm still sitting—quite silent—in my chair, and that I'm vibrating.

When I open my eyes, the world has changed, softened and sharpened at the same time, like putting on 3-D glasses and blunting the focus. “Everything is...shiny.” I look at Trebor. He smiles at me. I blush and smile back. “What's going on?”

“I think you're high on magic.” He laughs. “It won't last, don't worry.”

“Oh, that's too bad. I feel better than I have in years.” Tears well up in my eyes, of happiness, or beauty, or sadness, I don't know. “What the hell.” I wipe my eyes, and feel an ache in my chest.

Trebor flinches, removes his hand from my heart, and touches his own.

“Are you okay?” I ask.