Edaline rested her hand on his shoulder. “But those losses might not have happened if Brant or Fintan had been taught proper restraint.”
“Are you defending them?” Grady snapped.
Edaline took a slow, steadying breath. “Jolie did. I’ve read the journal she left. Twice. And it’s clear she saw the best in Brant, right up until the end. She went there that day hoping to make him realize he needed help. And she understood the impossible situation he’d been in.”
“And that mistake cost Jolie her life!” Grady practically shouted.
“I know.” Edaline blinked her watery eyes. “But haven’t you ever thought about how much it would’ve changed things if Brant had been afforded the same privileges that others receive when they manifest? If he’d had training and education from a stable, reliable Mentor? If he hadn’t been told to deny who he was and forced to live with the brand of Talentless? Think of your own struggles as a Mesmer. Where would you be if Bronte hadn’t shown you the treacherous path you were on—and spared you the consequences that you technically deserved for wrongly mesmerizing him?”
“The truth,” Mr. Forkle added when Grady stayed silent, “is that many of our abilities have the potential for harm. And while some of us have rules and restrictions to keep us better in check, none—besides Pyrokinetics—are forbidden from using their talent. Our Ancient Councillors let their fear and grief lead them to be unduly harsh—and it has resulted in all manner of catastrophes. I don’t know how to ensure that this new child will not be led astray by the power. But I do know that forbidding the ability will lead to ruin.”
“Even if you’re right,” Sandor said—and it didn’t sound like he believed that to be the case, “you’re seriously suggesting we allow a brand-new, untrained Pyrokinetic into an enclosed fortress with what sounds like very few exits?”
“I’m suggesting we bring the person who offers us the best advantage. I’ve worked with this child personally. I’ve seen them demonstrate both impressive power and tremendous restraint. And if we know the gorgodons submit only to fire, it seems wise to have flames in our own arsenal—especially since there’s a chance Fintan might be there.”
“Pretty sure a newbie is no match for Fintan,” Fitz pointed out.
“I don’t expect them to be—though should the need arise, let’s not forget that Sophie could choose to enhance the Pyrokinetic’s ability. But Fintan would never expect us to have a Pyrokinetic on our side, so the first sight of flames would throw off his guard and give you a chance to subdue him by other means.”
“And we’re sure we can trust this person?” Sophie asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Forkle promised. “You should also keep in mind that this Pyrokinetic has far more to risk by revealing themselves than you do for accepting them.”
Sophie glanced at Tam, Biana, and Fitz. “What do you guys think?”
“I wish I knew who we’re taking about,” Fitz told her.
“Yeah, if it’s someone like Stina Heks, that’s a whole other thing than if it’s someone like . . . I don’t know—Jensi,” Biana added. “And yeah, Stina already manifested as an Empath, but you know what I mean.”
Tam nodded. “I never trust anyone until I read their shadowvapor, so . . .”
Sophie turned back to Mr. Forkle, “Is there a way to meet the person before we decide if we should include them in the mission?”
He stroked his chin. “I suppose—but if I bring her in, I need your word that you’ll protect her secret.”
“Her?” they all asked at the same time.
He waited for them to promise before turning to address someone who must’ve been standing just outside the doorway. “I’m assuming you heard all of that? Up to you if you’d like to come in and join us.”
Sophie ran through a list of names, trying to guess who might be about to walk through the door. But never in a million years would she have expected to see a pixielike girl with huge ice-blue eyes, nervously twisting one of the tiny braids scattered throughout her straight blond hair as she made her way into the living room.
In unison, Sophie, Fitz, and Biana gasped, “Marella?”
Forty-three
YEAH,” MARELLA MUMBLED, still twisting her braids. “So . . . I guess I don’t need to bother saying that I didn’t manifest as an Empath when Forkle triggered me.”
Sadness dripped off every word—and Sophie’s eyes welled up. She knew how desperately Marella had wanted an ability that would help her mom battle her mood swings—and then to manifest this instead?
“You’re really a Pyrokinetic?” she whispered.
Marella snapped her fingers, and a small tongue of flame appeared in her palm, dancing across her skin with flashes of red, orange, and yellow.
Everyone scrambled back.
Marella’s lips twisted into something that was half smirk, half grimace. “Don’t worry, I know how to keep it under control. But yeah, this is what I can do now. And apparently it’s not going away.”
“It’s not,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Once an ability manifests, it cannot be switched off.”
“That’s the part that gets me,” Marella admitted quietly. “If I hadn’t forced him to trigger me—”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “I may have given you a more powerful surge of mental energy than any of your Ability Detecting Mentors would have, but your pyrokinesis is strong. I can’t imagine it would’ve stayed dormant.”
Marella went back to twisting her braids. “I guess it doesn’t matter. This is me now—in secret, at least. Officially . . . I’ll have to be Talentless. No Elite Levels for me—but hey, who wants two extra years of boring sessions, right?”
Mr. Forkle rested a hand on her shoulder. “Change will not happen overnight. But you have a long life ahead of you, and it is my sincerest hope that the stigma will be lifted someday.”
“Yeah, well . . . I’m not going to hold my breath,” Marella told him.
“What was it like when you manifested?” Sophie asked to break the silence. “Did you know right away, or . . . ?”
“I thought I had a fever. So I took a few elixirs and went to sleep, hoping I’d feel better in the morning. Instead, I woke up in the middle of the night surrounded by flames. I bolted out of bed, thinking the house was burning down and I had to get my parents out. But after a few seconds, I realized the fire was only on me. And no matter how much I rolled around, it wouldn’t snuff out.”
“Did it hurt?” Biana whispered.
“No. But my brain kept telling me it should. Even now, when I look at this”—she held up her burning hand, letting the flames curl around her fingers—“I have to remind myself that my ability protects me. I wish I could say the same for my house. I scorched my room and part of the hall before my dad got to it with quicksnuff. And it was a good thing my mom was having one of her more clear-headed days and thought to tell the Emissaries that the fire was her fault. Of course they believed her, since it was ‘Crazy Caprise Redek.’ ”
Her hand curled into a fist, snuffing out the flame.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie told her, not sure if they were the right words. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. Both of my parents have been way cooler about this than I ever would’ve expected. My mom stayed by my side the whole first day, in case I lost control again. And my dad went to the library in Eternalia to get any books he could find on pyrokinesis—not that any of them were helpful. The third night I woke up in flames, I decided to reach out to Forkle.”
“I’d left her a way to contact me after I tried triggering her,” Mr. Forkle explained. “In case she ran into anything unexpected—though I never prepared for this.”
“Me neither,” Marella mumbled.
“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Biana asked her. “I know we don’t hang out as much as we used to—”
“Uh, we never hang out,” Marella corrected. “You all pretty much forgot I existed??
?until you realized my mom knew something about what happened to Cyrah. Then suddenly we were BFFs again.”
“That wasn’t the only reason,” Biana argued.
“If you say so.” Flames sparked to life across both of Marella’s palms, and it took several slow deep breaths to snuff them out. “Sometimes my mood affects the ability,” she admitted. “But Forkle’s been giving me daily lessons for the last couple of weeks—”
“He has?” Sophie interrupted. “So, while we thought you were dead, you were—”
“Yes,” Mr. Forkle told her. “The necessary secrecy of Miss Redek’s lessons meant I could continue them, even before I felt ready to fully reveal myself to you and others. I realize my actions were far from ideal—but you already know why I delayed coming forward. Would you rather I abandoned Miss Redek during a time of dramatic adjustment?”
“No,” Sophie begrudgingly admitted. But that didn’t calm the anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach.
“Did you know we thought he was dead?” Fitz asked Marella.
“I had no reason to tell her,” Mr. Forkle interceded. “But I filled her in before I brought her here tonight, since I fully expected this reaction.”
“And I’m still not totally sure I get it,” Marella added. “So . . . you were dead, but not dead, but still dead, and somehow also alive?”
Mr. Forkle winced, looking smaller somehow as he said, “Yes, I suppose that does sum up the situation. It’s all very complicated.”
“Most things are,” Edaline agreed quietly.
“But how are you training her in pyrokinesis?” Grady asked. “I don’t see what fire has to do with telepathy—unless having a twin brother wasn’t your only secret.”
“I have many secrets, Mr. Ruewen. But being a Pyrokinetic isn’t one of them. And it’s a good thing, because I would never be able to maintain the level of restraint that Miss Redek manages to hold. Nevertheless, you might be surprised by how many similarities there are between our abilities. Both require us to put barriers around ourselves in order to limit the power. And both can happen consciously and unconsciously. It’s not a perfect fit, but it gives us a starting point to build on—and I’m hoping to eventually have her work with either a Guster or a Hydrokinetic, since there are stronger correlations between abilities that affect the elements.”
“If you want a Hydrokinetic to help,” Tam said, “why did you make me promise not to tell my sister?”
“I only made you promise not to tell her without Miss Redek’s permission.”
“I don’t care if Linh knows,” Marella said. “And I’ll tell Dex at some point. But please don’t tell anyone else. I can’t end up on the Council’s watch list. If they start monitoring me all the time, I’ll never be able to practice—”
“That’s starting to sound an awful lot like what Brant did,” Grady interrupted. “I assume you know how that turned out?”
Marella paled. “Forkle’s told me the story, yeah. But that’s why I’m training. Denying the ability only seems to make it worse.”
“And you’re sure you can keep it under control in Nightfall?” Grizel asked. “Fear and adrenaline are powerful things, and you already lost your cool during this discussion.”
“Only for a second,” Marella argued.
“That’s all it takes,” Sandor snapped back. “One spark in the wrong place.”
“That’s why Forkle has me carry this.” She pulled a fist-size pouch from under her shirt and loosened the strings to show them a green-toned powder. “It’s a super-concentrated form of quicksnuff.”
“A small sprinkle goes a very long way,” Mr. Forkle assured everyone. “Kesler Dizznee made it, and we all know how brilliant his alchemy can be.”
“I still think sending her to Nightfall is like lighting a fuse and tossing it into a room full of kindling,” Grady warned.
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you won’t be making the decision.” Mr. Forkle turned to Sophie. “It’s your call.”
Sophie glanced at Tam and Biana. “What do you guys think?”
Biana chewed her lip. “Will you be able to hold my hand without burning me?” she asked Marella. “Because I can’t turn you invisible without contact.”
“Can you hold on to my wrist instead?” Marella asked. “My wrists rarely light up.”
“Wrists work,” Biana said.
“And her shadowvapor seems to be at a normal level,” Tam added.
Marella glared at Tam’s shadow. “Uh, I don’t remember giving permission for a reading.”
“You heard me say it was a deal breaker before you came in here,” he reminded her.
“Fine—but don’t push it, or I’ll burn the bangs right off your forehead.”
“Oh good,” Sandor grumbled. “They haven’t even left yet and she’s already making threats.”
Marella shrugged. “Now he knows not to mess with me.”
Tam’s answering smile seemed to say he was up for the challenge.
“So do we have a decision, then?” Mr. Forkle asked. “Because it’s getting quite late.”
“I have one last question,” Sophie said, waiting for Marella to turn to her. “Are you sure you want to be involved in all of this? I know you got mad at us for leaving you out a while back—but I also remember you telling me that you didn’t think you were cut out for dangerous things. And you won’t get anything more dangerous than this. Especially since, if you use your ability around the Neverseen, Fintan may come after you.”
Marella struggled to swallow. “Forkle gave me those warnings when he asked me to come here. And at first I was thinking, ‘Uh . . . hard pass.’ But then I thought about how I’d feel if my parents were trapped like yours are. And I knew you’d probably be willing to do anything to help me get them back.”
“I would,” Sophie promised.
Marella nodded. “So . . . might as well find out if the whole ‘almost dying’ thing is as miserable as you guys make it look, or if you’re just being babies about it. Besides, what good is being able to shoot fireballs if you can’t fling them at freaky beasts every once in a while?”
“To be clear,” Mr. Forkle jumped in, “adding Miss Redek to the group will not change our original plan of using ash to sneak past the creatures, nor our aim to evade the Neverseen and focus on the most crucial victory.”
“And you’re not to create a single spark unless you’re in immediate and inescapable danger,” Sandor told Marella. “Understood?”
Marella’s “Fine. Whatever” didn’t exactly fill anyone with confidence—and Sophie could tell Sandor, Grady, Fitz, and Grizel were all ready to go back to arguing that they should go instead.
But weren’t people always saying you had to fight fire with fire?
She dipped her hand in the sticky, freezing ash and swiped a gray-white streak down Marella’s arm. “Time to get ready. We’re going to Nightfall!”
Forty-four
DO I WANT to know why you have a blood-soaked piece of Keefe’s cape? Or is that, like, a normal thing for you guys to have?” Marella whispered as their small ash-covered group shivered outside the massive silver door that Sophie had previously only seen in Keefe’s memory.
Howling winds whipped through the night air, making the gray-white powder on their skin zing as if they’d been drenched in ice water. Sophie could barely distinguish their forms from the shadows and snow. The only thing that stood out was the faint blue flash of the starstone hairpin that she’d retucked into her bun after the leap—and the red-stained fabric in her hands.
The iron smell made her gag, but she sucked in a freezing lungful and reminded herself that Keefe was safe—which was more than she could say for herself at the moment.
“My theory is that Keefe made one too many jokes about Fitzphie, and Sophie finally threw him off a cliff,” Tam told Marella, careful to keep his voice low.
“I could see that,” Marella agreed. “By the way, how long has Fitzphie been official?”
So
phie choked on her next breath. “It’s not.”
“Seriously?” Marella asked. “Then what was with that hug?”
“That was just . . .” Sophie wasn’t totally sure how to finish that sentence.
If she was honest, Fitz’s goodbye hug had been a pretty big surprise—especially since she was already covered in ash, so he’d totally ruined his clothes.
He’d hugged Biana too, of course.
But . . . not for as long.
And he hadn’t leaned down and whispered anything in Biana’s ear—though all he’d said was that he wanted Sophie to be careful, and Biana didn’t end up in the Healing Center as often as she did, so that was probably why.
Still, every time she thought about it . . .
Marella giggled softly. “Aww, I can see you blushing, even with the ash.”
“I am not!” Sophie whisper-hissed.
“Careful,” Tam warned Marella. “She might toss you off this ledge.”
“I might toss both of you,” Sophie told them.
Marella rolled her eyes—which looked especially huge now that her hair was swept back into a tight bun. “Are you afraid Biana’s going to go all megabrat on you again because she’s weirdly possessive of her brother?”
“I’m not possessive,” Biana corrected, lowering her voice before she added, “I just don’t like when people use me to get closer to him. I’m sure Linh knows how annoying that is.”
Tam snorted. “Trust me, she doesn’t.”
“Doubtful,” Marella whispered. “Have you seen you?”
Tam pulled his bangs over his eyes. “Yeah. I’m a twin. And a Shade. And a Wayward. And up until a couple of months ago, I was banished—sorta.”
Marella shrugged. “You’re talking to a Pyrokinetic, so . . .”
“Okay, can we focus?” Sophie asked, pointing to the door, which seemed to glint in the moonlight. “There are gorgodons waiting to shred us on the other side. And who knows what other fun surprises?”
She bent and patted the melder tucked into the top of her other boot, making sure it was still concealed. Sandor had insisted they each carry one—and he’d had Tam carry an obscurer as well. None of the gadgets could match the power of their abilities, but it felt good having a layer of technological backup. Just like it felt good knowing she had a flat packet of ash strapped to her stomach. They’d all worn them, to make sure they’d have enough for her parents.