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I take a breath, several, my sobbing slowing until I can manage to speak. “It feels good to have that off my shoulders, actually.”
And it does. It seems every moment with these men is another moment where the jagged edges inside of me get smoothed. I don’t understand it, but I love it. Some part of me feels like I need this, or else the darkness would be too strong to ignore.
Orson clears his throat and we all raise our heads. “I don’t know if now is the optimal time,” he says, “but I figure a breakthrough warrants an interruption.”
“Breakthrough?” asks Max, his voice filled with doubt.
“I think I’ve found a way to track your brother Simon.”
So hewaslistening the entire time.I almost laugh.
EIGHTEEN
Unknown
Blood flows through me,strengthening my powers, and yet, it’s not enough. I blame that on the experiments by my creators. Each test. Each experiment was different. They were trying to make something. Something strong, but something controllable. They succeeded in one of those things. Those of us that lived, were strong, but not controllable.
But Asha is stronger than I am.
Rage courses through me and trees explode at my sides as I race through them, letting my fingers stretch out to touch more and more trees to keep the fire burning, and the death flowing. I can sense it in her. She feeds but doesn’t kill. She should be weak. Easy to break. So I must feed more. Until I can defeat her silver light.
A shriek tears from my lips at the thought of the silver light. The pain it brought and the memories it unveiled. Before that light, I was only the magic. The darkness. Living and breathing to feed and grow in power. Thriving in the pain, misery, and death around me.
The light brought memories. Crisp ones. Red hair. An easy smile. Walking with his arm around a beautiful woman who loved only him. They planned to marry. He’d ordered a ring in her size. Something simple and elegant because he was not a rich man, just a man who was loved by many.
He had his mother. His sisters. The house was filled with love. He was not lonely and bitter, clinging to his jealousy and his longing. He was not an ugly thing with an ugly soul that all saw.
The shriek comes again, reminding me of a predator in pain. I do not like these memories, but at least they brought me purpose. I will kill the Blood Mages who hurt me. Who made too many worthless creatures like me. Those that are weaker than me. Those that haven’t even been given a chance to feed or use their magic, because they could not be controlled.
I was the first they tried to train like a dog. To use like a tool. I was the lesson that killed my masters and taught the living Blood Mages that they had failed. That we were not the dogs on leashes that they imagined we’d be.
The Blood Mages will die. Then everyone else. I will use the power I gain from their lives, their magic, to finally defeat Asha. Once she is gone, and the Blood Mages are gone, there will be no one who can stop me. No one strong enough.
I will rule. There will be death. There will be destruction. I will forget the house, the mom, the sisters, and the red-haired man. I will forget what it is to be weak, pathetic, and jealous. The silver light will be gone and vanished, and I will spread darkness that will grow until there is no more light.
Then I will be the darkness. It will be me. And the pain will finally end.
But first, one more stop. One more place to erase the pain and the memories.
NINETEEN
Asha
“So it’s really rather simple,”says Orson as we crowd around his computer.
I think to myself,likely anything but. So far, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Orson, it’s that he’s a genius. Every time I look at the coding he’s doing on the computer, my head hurts. I have no idea how he can turn a bunch of letters and symbols into something… useful.
“It doesn’t look simple,” Braxton says.
“It looks like gibberish,” Max says, then adds. “But I’m sure it’ll be very useful.”
Orson either doesn’t hear them or chooses to ignore them. “After thorough analysis of the data retrieved from the various detection systems aboard the Chinese satellites,” he glances up at us, “they’re outfitted with more capabilities, but eminently hackable,” he returns to the computer, pulling up a new window, “I was able to cobble together an AI that reads the data for signs of abnormal signatures.” He swivels in his chair and looks up at me. “Namely, your brother.”
Uh, what?
I shake my head. “How?” He draws in a deep breath in preparation for a lengthy explanation until I raise my hand to pause him. “Nevermind. More importantly, how confident are you in its accuracy?”
“Completely,” he says. Then, after a beat, he qualifies that statement, saying, “It is a young algorithm, without much experience to draw from, so I have to keep feeding it instances of magic usage for it to suss out the proper wavelengths, but for example, I had it assess the town we just came from and it produced some really fascinating analysis. I think it’s going to be a game changer for our mission.”
