Page 4 of Stormbreaker

The room descends into chaos as people simultaneously try to squeeze closer to the body and also move away. I push through the crowd, sliding between the spaces until I find myself at the door.

I look back. I shouldn’t be leaving at a time like this, but someone will deal with it. We have sweepers for these types of incidents, and too many people are already in the way.

After quietly slipping out, I pound up several floors and toss open the door to my parents’ penthouse, only to find it empty. They must have gone out to one of their favorite swanky restaurants with their friends. At least I don’t have to explain why I’m home already.

I head for my bedroom, still decorated like it was when I was ten years old, with frilly white sheets and pillows and a ruffled canopy. At least I donated the stuffed animals, though I kept my favorite brown bear, Teddy, to sit on my dresser to watch over me.

I just turned nineteen, but he makes me feel safe.

I lock the door behind me and kick off my shoes before tiptoeing carefully across the plush white carpet. Even in my own home, I try never to take up too much space.

Clinging to the window frame, I focus my gaze on the distant spot where I know General Sol will be waiting.

The wind howls, shaking the foundations. I spot a figure scurrying across the plaza far below and press a hand to the glass, urging them to run for cover.

A moment later, another cloudburst illuminates the sky. Lines of energy radiate out, coalescing as they hit the pavement and rebounding into its characteristic plasma arc. It spreads, engulfing the figure in a hailstorm of Spark before they stumble, landing face down on the pavement, dead.

I choke on a quiet sob before looking up to witness General Sol gilded in amethyst light.

She stands atop the Citadel, her long hair tossing in the wind.

She’s too far away to make out the details, but I know she’s wearing her usual uniform. Fitted black leather from head to toe with tiny buttons running up the sides of her boots and a crisscross tie cinched at her back.

Her darkened silhouette reveals her standing with her arms spread and her face tipped up, as if she’s offering herself to the sky. Bursts of Spark slam into her outstretched hands and crackle over her body, briefly illuminating the vibrant streak in her hair.

She is New Manhattan’s only official Spark Keeper. Centuries of evolution living in a world plagued by violent electromagnetic forces have immunized people like her to its deadly effects.

More Keepers like her once lived within our borders, but their connection to Spark drove them to madness and violence. They proved too dangerous to exist.

Without General Sol, we would be lost.

Any time the weather turns, she races to her perch, gathering the storm’s power to fuel the city’s generators.

Another cloud bursts across the sky, but the general is ready. I watch as she gathers the next strike and then touches the dozens of glowing nodes surrounding her in a circle. Lights power on in a distant part of the city that doesn’t enjoy the luxury of constant electricity.

Here in one of the House Fiama towers, we receive steady power until the generators run out. But it never takes long before the next storm comes along.

I open the window, bracing myself for a gust of wind.

It tugs at my hair as I lean forward, peering down at the illuminated windows of the Ardens’ apartment, but here I’m safely concealed in shadows. Reaching forward, I hold out my hand and stretch my fingers to the sky.

I peer up, waiting, hoping. The wind burns my cheeks and makes my eyes water, but I must be patient.

Then it comes.

Another bright flash sends a burst of Spark careening toward me, almost as if in slow motion.

It strikes my palm, and I attempt another deep breath as my body absorbs the charge. A transparent plasma arc engulfs me as Spark crackles up my arm, circling my shoulders, chest, hips, and legs.

My eyes flutter closed, while electricity rips through my body, cooking my organs, burning my veins, searing my nerves. My mind warps and my teeth rattle, thoughts muddling as I hang on, willing myself through the pain.

I never know how long it takes. Sometimes it feels like hours. Sometimes years.

But no more than a minute or two passes before I can open my eyes. My bones and skin throb. The roots of my hair and the backs of my teeth ache.

The bubble is gone, but I’m still trembling as I look down to admire the purple sparks dancing over my clothing and skin. I approach the mirror on unsteady legs to enjoy the effect. It’s like I’m surrounded by dancing fireflies. Like I’m a faerie from another world. It isn’t magic, but it feels like it.

Twisting left and right, I continue watching the sparks dance up and down my arms and twinkle in my hair. Eventually, my breath evens out. I stop shaking as the effect melts from resonant pulses into the euphoria I crave. I’m floating now.