Alight: The Peril Read online

  The harder he tried to swallow the flour, the more he coughed. Pretty soon his eyes started tearing, and I finally took mercy on him and handed him a glass of water. My great-aunt’s lips were drawn into a composed line, but her eyes twinkled.

  “Do you want me to drink all of it?” he asked, his lips caked with white powder.

  “Drink as much as you want,” I said, and I passed him a napkin. “Wipe off your mouth, too. And then fold your napkin into an origami crane.”

  He drank, scrubbed at his mouth, and then stared down at the napkin in his hand. His face crumpled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make an origami crane.” He looked up at me like he’d just told me he ran over my puppy.

  Patting his hand, I tried to keep a straight face. “It’s okay. You don’t need to do that. You can sit down.”

  “Well, I think we can call that a roaring success,” Aunt Dorothy said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Now, you should release him from the influence of the green liquid.” She put one drop of white liquid in the second bowl. I stuck my finger in it and touched it to my tongue. It tasted chalky and vaguely woody. I closed my eyes and imagined the white liquid washing over Mason, dissolving away the green vortex.

  I opened my eyes, and Mason’s accusing gaze met mine. What the heck, Corinne?

  I snickered. Got you.

  “Very good, my dear. I’m glad to see this part is coming easily for you.” Aunt Dorothy nodded. “You will need to practice again with each of the other bottles, and soon you should be able to convey the different influences without using the liquids at all. You also will need to gain the ability to attenuate them so you’re able to impart a very subtle influence or a very strong one, depending on what the situation calls for.

  “Let’s try one more today. Fetch another bowl.” I did as she asked. “How about the red?”

  I eyed the bottle filled with liquid the color of dried blood. My great-aunt dispensed a drop of it into the empty bowl. I looked down at the rusty smear of liquid, hesitating.

  “Go on, dear. Remember, you can erase the effects with the white.”

  I took a breath, slid my finger across the red liquid, and tasted it. It was sharp and floral, like metal and roses. Not an unpleasant taste, but somehow unsettling. Like before, I gathered the essence in my mind and projected it to Mason.

  His face creased in a faint scowl.

  “How do you—”

  “How could you even think I’d do that with her?” Mason’s voice held a sharp edge I’d never heard before, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know me better than that, Corinne. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain, and you still haven’t let it go.”

  I hurriedly stuck my pinkie in the white liquid and tasted it, and pushed its cleansing essence to Mason. His expression went from angry to bewildered to forlorn, and he stared at the tabletop.

  Sorry. Not sure where that came from.

  No worries. I’m sorry you have to be the guinea pig.

  My stomach rolled uneasily. Mason and I hadn’t talked about the incident since the night of the dance. The night I’d accused him of kissing Sophie before he left for Africa. It turned out Mason wasn’t the guy whose tongue she was sucking, but of course I didn’t know that until much later. And in the meantime, I’d kind of given him the silent treatment during the semester he was gone. I wanted to cringe every time I thought about it. Not my most mature decision ever.

  Aunt Dorothy’s face was unreadable. “Before I set you free with this ability, I need to know you can be trusted not to misuse it. The power of the pyxis is an enormous responsibility. Do I have your word you will use the influences only in the service of the pyramidal union and protecting the convergence?”

  “Yes,” I said quietly, and tried not to let my disappointment show. I could think of about a dozen ways I’d like to use the influences to make my life a little easier.

  Aunt Dorothy gave me a sharp look over the top of her reading glasses. “Corinne?”

  “You have my word,” I said, my voice firm. “I have a question, though. Before, when I accidentally used the influences in my petits fours, it seemed like, after a while, the effects wore off. Do they really wear off over time?”

  “They do, yes, unless you refresh the influence or figure out a way to set it more permanently. I gathered from your grandmother that neither of those methods was particularly desirable. In most cases, you would not want the effects to be long-lasting, anyway. That would be a bit unethical, I think.”

  “Did Grandma Doris ever say anything about how to ‘set’ an influence?”

  “Not that I recall, my dear.”

  I nodded, not entirely satisfied with her answer, but not surprised either.

  “There’s one more thing,” she continued. “News from your grandmother.”

  I frowned. My grandmother had died nearly a year ago. She’d come to me in dreams since then, but . . . news?

  “I know this will seem difficult to understand, to believe.” My great-aunt clasped her hands together. “But your Grandmother Doris is in contact with others like her. They watch over our convergences from their own realms. Though powerless to act or defend against an attack, some of them possess very helpful gifts. Those strong in foresight, or seeing possible futures, have foreseen visions of Tapestry.”

  “Wait,” I interrupted. A whole legion of people somewhere—wherever my grandmother was now—who could see the future? “You said possible futures. So whatever they see isn’t set in stone?”

  Aunt Dorothy nodded. “The strongest of the visions all point to one dependency. Your pyramidal union, the complete union, must deal with Harriet before summer solstice is over, or—” She stopped and looked at each of us, and when she spoke again her voice was low and solemn. “The convergence will fall . . . and no trace of Tapestry or the people who live here will survive.”

  The worry lines across her forehead deepened as she looked at each of us in turn. My throat dried up, and my mind churned.

  “Summer solstice is a little less than two months away,” Mason said, his face pale. I reached for his hand under the table, and his fingers closed firmly around mine.

  “Yes.” Aunt Dorothy straightened. “But I have every confidence you will be ready for the challenge.”

  When Mason and I left Aunt Dorothy’s, the sun had just set behind the mountains, and the evening air had cooled. I wrapped my arms around my middle. My light jacket was barely enough to keep me warm, but Mason walked comfortably beside me in short sleeves and cargo shorts.

  I opened my mouth and then clicked it shut. What could I say after the bomb my great-aunt had dropped on us? We trudged silently for a couple of blocks.

  “So you want to practice the thought projection stuff later tonight?” he asked. “I have a feeling I won’t be getting much sleep.”

  My heart jumped a little. Really, he was asking if it was okay to show up at my room late, after everyone else was asleep.

  “Yeah, me neither.” I tried to keep my voice casual and my mind blank. But I couldn’t control my heart, pattering away in my chest.

  || 3 ||

  LATER THAT NIGHT, I lay in bed staring at the barely visible square of light the window formed behind the curtain. I still had a thousand questions about what was going to happen to me, Mason, Ang, and the mystery Guardian, and it seemed like every time Aunt Dorothy told us more, another bunch of questions just spawned in my mind.

  Some things seemed urgent, like bringing another Guardian into all of it. And how exactly were we all supposed to work together? I had no idea what was coming, or what we would have to do before the solstice.

  In a matter of weeks, my life had become nearly unrecognizable. The crazy part was that day-to-day things were almost the same. I still went to school, worked shifts at the café, ate Sunday dinner with my parents and Brad, texted Angeline a hundred times a day. But the Corinne who did all of those things six months ago hardly existed now. She’d been replaced by a girl who no
longer stressed over getting an A on the next geometry test or whether her hair was doing that stupid flippy thing. Now, I had to figure out how to manage a voice in my head and stop a cloud of evil.

  Just yesterday, I bumped into Andy Jones during morning break. Literally rammed into his chest, distracted because Mason was telling me a story through our link about his brother’s antics. When I looked up and realized who I’d crashed into, I flashed back to the cove and my “date” with Andy after he’d eaten a bunch of my bake sale goodies. And his subsequent dumping of me for Sophie days later. Cringe. The old Corinne would have pretty much died on the spot. But I didn’t even mumble or blush. I kept walking like it was nothing.

  It seemed like I’d aged about a hundred years since the bake sale. At some point in the past few weeks, a vague sensation of dread had settled like a dull ache at the base of my neck.

  Hey. Mason’s voice whispered through my mind. Okay if I come in?

  Sure. I scooted over to the wall to make room for him.

  I heard the soft click of the deadbolt, and the basement door swished open and shut. Mason slipped into my bedroom, kicked off his shoes, and settled next to me. His upper arm pressed against mine, and I inhaled the spicy-wood-vanilla scent of his soap.

  Couldn’t sleep either? I asked.

  Huh-uh. Got a lot on my mind.

  Yeah, tell me about it.

  Want to practice the thought-blocking thing? he asked after a few seconds.

  Sure. I squeezed my eyes shut and formed the image of a room with foot-thick concrete walls in my mind. I figured I might as well try Mason’s trick one more time. The room in my mind nearly rang with silence; it was so well insulated from the world that no sound could penetrate. I pictured a small window in one wall, made of four layers of bulletproof and soundproof glass. Then I placed myself in the middle of the room and started chanting the alphabet in my mind.

  . . . C, D, E, F, G . . . Mason chanted with me.

  Darn it! I screeched through our link, and he winced. Sorry. . . . I really thought I had it that time.

  Nice safe room, he said, and I scowled.

  What should I do? Different mental image? I seriously needed help. It kind of sucked to try to master a skill no one else had, or would even believe if you tried to explain it. It wasn’t like I could just go search for instructions on a how-to website.

  I think you need to not try quite so hard.

  That’s . . . not exactly helpful, I said.

  No, really. Mason shifted on the bed a little, and his arm moved away from mine. My skin cooled in the absence of his body heat. When you try to be that rigid, it makes the edges of your mind . . . I don’t know, brittle or something. The more rigid you are, the easier it is to find little cracks.

  I raised my eyebrows. Huh. So you think I need a barrier that’s more flexible, maybe?

  Yeah, try that.

  I thought for a moment. What was a flexible, but impermeable barrier? My brother’s drysuit, the one he wore over his clothes to go wakeboarding in the spring when the water in Tapestry Lake was barely above freezing.

  Okay, here goes. I took a deep breath and imagined a thick layer of drysuit surrounding my mind like an insulating bubble, and I started singing the happy birthday song. When I reached the end of the song and Mason remained silent, I grinned in triumph.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” I said.

  Yeah, it must have. Nice work! Oh, but my birthday’s not ‘til October, you know.

  I smacked his arm and groaned. “Ugh, why? Why can’t I learn this?”

  “You’ll get it eventually.”

  “If by eventually you mean never, then I agree with you.” So annoying. It drove me nuts that Mason picked up thought-blocking so easily.

  “Wanna see something cool?” He asked after a minute.

  “Sure.” I looked at him expectantly in the dark room, but didn’t see anything.

  Then, there it was. Mason was glowing. It was as though a faint, warm light had illuminated just beneath his skin.

  I sat up. “Shut . . . the . . . front . . . door!” My voice sounded harsh compared to our silent exchanges through our link. “How are you doing that? It’s like you’re a human firefly!”

  Mason’s laugh rumbled deep in his throat, and I eyed the ceiling, remembering my sleeping family upstairs.

  I don’t know how to explain how I do it. There’s more. Watch.

  I stared as the light within him changed from a faint, warm yellow glow to a whiter, more intense light.

  “Wow, that’s—” The words died on my lips as Mason raised his hand, and an orb of blue-white light formed in his palm. The ball of light detached from his hand and floated up until it was level with my face. I gaped in wonder.

  Touch it, he said softly.

  I raised my hand to the light, hesitated, and then pushed my fingertips into it. A buzz of pleasant, ticklish electricity ran up my arm to my body, leaving goose bumps in its path.

  I can make it a lot more intense, but I’m afraid it might hurt you. I think it’s supposed to be some kind of defense.

  The glowing ball disappeared, and my fingers hung in the empty darkness for a second before I lowered my arm.

  Defense? Like a weapon? A stun gun? I asked. I was tempted to flip on the bedside lamp so I could really see his face. I wanted some confirmation that I’d actually seen what I thought I saw. I slowly lay back down on the bed, and curled up on my side facing him. A strange twinge of excitement stirred at the base of my sternum.

  He shrugged. Maybe, I’m not sure. I haven’t told your Aunt D about it yet. I wanted to show you first.

  Just then I noticed the heat radiating from him, much more than usual. I reached out and ran my fingertips slowly down his arm, and I gasped when residual static crackled softly between my skin and his, illuminating tiny blue sparks. His skin was as hot as the bottom of my laptop after it’s been on for a few hours. When my fingers reached his wrist, he grasped my hand in his and wove his fingers through mine. His hand was so warm, I started to sweat a little.

  He rolled to his side, still gripping my hand, and faced me. His lips hovered inches from mine, and my heart thumped.

  Hold still, he said.

  I waited, wondering what new trick he could possibly have. He drew a slow breath in through his nose, and then his lips parted and he began to exhale. His breath washed over my nose, mouth, and cheeks, and a million tiny sparks burst against my skin. Everywhere the sparks touched, my skin tingled.

  He sent no words through our link, but I could sense how badly he wanted to close the space between us. His longing stirred like a heavy, hot wind through my mind, and for a moment, I couldn’t distinguish his feelings from my own.

  He ran out of breath and leaned a fraction of an inch closer to me. I closed my eyes, anticipating the pressure of his mouth. When his lips touched mine, our emotions and thoughts seemed to twirl and twine around each other in a rush, like strands of seaweed caught in crashing waves.

  Too soon, Mason pulled back and the tide of our jumbled thoughts receded. I think I’d better go, he said.

  My eyelids popped open, and I strained to read his expression in the dark. I knew he wanted to stay. His feelings reverberated back and forth through our link. Plus, duh, he was a guy. But he didn’t want to push anything to happen too quickly between us.

  After a few seconds, he dropped my hand, pushed himself up from the bed, and exited the basement as quietly as he’d arrived.

  I rolled over to my back and brushed my index finger across my lips, which still tingled from the warmth of Mason’s kiss.

  Just before I drifted to sleep, I heard music. It was a melody I didn’t recognize, and yet it felt familiar. As it danced through my mind like a swirling breeze, I caught a whiff of something fresh and organic, dew on just-cut grass. The melody faded, and its absence seemed to leave a hollowed-out place in my heart. But I was too exhausted to explore this new sensation, and sleep claimed me.

  * * *<
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  At lunch the next day, Angeline and I parked ourselves on the bottom row of the bleachers in the volleyball gym, and I devoured half of my PB & J. I’d told her about summer solstice and Aunt Dorothy’s warning, and Ang was totally freaked out. I tried to calm her down, reminding her she couldn’t do anything until we had our other Guardian.

  We’d come to watch our friend Kaitlin rehearse with the dance team, and try to feel like normal high school students for an hour. I scanned the room while I chewed. Sophie hadn’t shown yet. She was dance team co-captain—almost unheard of for a sophomore—and I’d bet my oatmeal cookie that she was waiting until everyone had gathered so she could make a grand entrance. I imagined her in an empty classroom somewhere making out with my brother, and I grimaced.

  Dance team members and various assorted friends hung out in small groups near the bleachers. Ang and I spotted Kaitlin and waved, and she blew us kisses.

  “You have any gum?” Ang asked.

  “Is Toby coming or something?” I grinned and dug around in my bag.

  She giggled and jabbed me in the ribs. “No, I don’t think so.”

  I offered her a stick of gum. “So tell me about last weekend. You know, you and Toby.”

  She gave me a surprising amount of detail in just a few minutes, almost as if she’d been rehashing it over and over in her mind. She remembered their conversations almost word for word.

  “He’s just so sweet,” she sighed. “Oh, and his aunt is getting married this summer in Danton, and he wants me to go with him to the wedding.”

  “Wow, that’s a pretty big deal, Ang. You’ll probably be meeting his entire extended family.”

  “Yeah,” she said happily.

  “So, do you love him?” I asked. My heart flipped like a coin tossed into the air, and my smile faltered for a split second as she dropped her gaze. Huh. I was a little afraid of her answer. I knew it was selfish, but we’d been best friends since the fifth grade. Ang and I were a team, and we’d always relied only on each other.