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Chapter 22
By the time Mr. Brant returns, Halen has inched clear across the room, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. Or I should say longer, pink hair.
Mr. Brant stays in the doorway, pressing his palms on the frame. “You need to practice using the trident.”
That’s awesome. The weapon not only altered my appearance but made my best friend and an intimidating teacher scared of me.
He eyes me before pulling out the cabinet key and making his way to the cabinet. Doesn’t pull his gaze from me.
My heart thumps in my chest, threatening to explode out. Escaping to the surface doesn’t sound so bad again. Crazy hair colors are even in style. Nobody would give me a second look. I’d have to explain my absence, but with my parents gone, I could say it was a family emergency. It’d be doable. I just need to be able to find land and get myself home.
“Pick it up.” Mr. Brant’s voice brings me back to the present. “I’m not touching the trident.”
I take a deep breath and make my way over, my pulse racing throughout my body. I study it for a moment before reaching for it, then I pause and turn to the teacher. “What am I going to do with it?”
“You’re going to get familiar with it.” He glances over at the door.
I peek back and see several faculty poking their heads in. Great. I’m a spectacle. Even more awesome than I first thought. I stare down the weapon that chose me and changed my hair. I half expect it to speak to me, but that would be ridiculous. Not that the rest of this isn’t.
“We don’t have all day,” Mr. Brant says.
“Of course not.” I reach for the weapon before I can talk myself out of it. Not that I could try to leave with the doorway blocked.
My fingers wrap around the metal. A warmth runs through me, but it isn’t as overpowering as the first time. Strength builds in me, waves of enchanted power buzz around me, making the water vibrate.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, so I move toward the middle of the room. The longer I hold it, the more I adjust to it. Or maybe the power is calming down. I have no idea. None of this makes any sense.
“How does it feel now?” Mr. Brant asks.
I move it from one hand to the other. “Warm.”
“Manageable?”
I pull my gaze from the golden weapon and look at him. “More than before.”
“Good.” He stays next to the cabinet. “Do you know how to use a trident?”
“No. It’s not like they have classes on it up on the surface.”
“It’s most unfortunate that you grew up there. You’re going to have to learn a lot in a short amount of time.”
“Like I hadn’t already figured that out.”
“Watch your mouth.”
I take a deep breath. “Blame it on the trident. I can usually keep my thoughts to myself.”
“You’re going to have to learn self-control.”
“You have no idea how much I already use.” I narrow my eyes.
His face pales. “Okay, okay. Just something to be aware of. Swing it around and get a feel for how it works. I’ll guide you if you need it.”
I hold it up as high as I can and more power runs through me. Then I grasp it with both hands in front of me and a peace fills me, a sense of protection. I aim it toward Mr. Brant, and he jumps out of the way. The faculty by the door all cry out.
Mr. Brant glares at me. “Don’t aim that at someone unless you intend to use it!”
I press the base on the ground and study the pointy tips. “Is it like a gun?”
