“For the bump on your head,” Andrew explained. “It will reduce the swelling.”
She slowly took the offering, trying not to show fear or that it was not, in fact, normal for a man to be a living, breathing ice dispenser. The thought occurred to her that an ice dispenser would be a wonderful idea, and she should write to her American inventor friend to see if it was something he could create. Though if Andrew here could produce it in the palm of his hands ... well, she didn’t know how to finish that sentence.
She looked around at the group as she placed the ice pack on her sore head. She was surrounded, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She preferred to live life alone, to keep her distance. Though Juliette had forced her way in with her bubbly persistent persona.
“I’m sure you have many questions, Isla?” Harold’s deep soothing voice asked.
“I do ...” She laughed, though there was little humor in it. “But I’m not sure I want to ask them.” She looked at her boss. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Harold replied, humor in his eyes. “But I assure you, nothing you ask will surprise me.”
She studied him hard for a moment and saw the sincerity in his eyes. What did she have to lose? Only her job, her reputation, her sanity ...
“I don’t know where to start.” She swallowed hard. “Sir, I feel ... confused. The events of tonight ... they don’t make sense. They aren’t logical.”
“Oh, but they are,” he replied gently. “We often dismiss what we cannot explain as myth or madness simply because we do not yet understand it. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t following a logic—just one we’ve yet to comprehend.”
Isla stared into his dark, wise eyes. “So, you’re saying that impossible things are actually possible, but we’re just too ignorant to understand how they work?”
Harold nodded and chuckled, the low warmth of it mixing with the firelight and the two human furnaces flanking her. She instinctively leaned a fraction away from Andrew before continuing, voice rising slightly in pitch.
“Right, well then, please do explain why I was in the middle of giving a perfectly good lecture when I suddenly ended up with a tattoo on my wrist—something I wouldneverget, mind you, because I’mdeathlyafraid of needles—and then some nightmare-shadow ... entity decides to hunt me down, andAndrew, whom I’ve known for years and assumed was just an annoyingly smug academic, suddenly starts controlling ice like it’s a perfectly normal Tuesday!” Hysteria wasn’t doing her any favors in her explanation.
“Hey,” Andrew said, offended. “I’m not smug.”
“But maybe a bit annoying,” Juliette added with a snort.
“And why aren’tanyof you surprised by any of this?” Isla continued, narrowing her eyes. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this before?”
She turned to scowl at Juliette, who looked sheepish.
“Okay,” Harold said, interrupting her tirade. “They were both forbidden to say anything. We all were. The government requires permission before disclosing anything to someone whose abilities haven’t awakened—and that permission is rarely granted. Usually only in matters of national security.”
“So the government, the prime minister, knows about all of this?” Isla asked, looking at them all suspiciously but feeling utterly ridiculous. She hated not understanding.
Harold smiled. “Yes, he knows that a minority of individuals have certain abilities and that it is kept quiet to avoid trouble.”
“Okay, then explain this mark and the whole ‘powers’ thing. Is it like some kind of superhero origin story?” Now she knew she was utterly ridiculous.
That made all three of them laugh. Isla crossed her arms, feeling more like a schoolchild rather than a university professor.
“Not superheroes,” Harold said. “Just people. Living ordinary lives with extraordinary abilities.”
At her skeptical look, he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as if settling in for a story. “Long ago, humanity was touched by the Aether, and fragments of its essence remained dormant in certain lineages. Over generations, a small portion of the population have inherited these Aetheric traces strongly enough toawakengifts under the right emotional or intellectual conditions. These people are called the Aetherians.
“The Aetheric Arts is the term we use to describe the gifts Aetherians develop. They’re rooted in four elemental paths: Ventus, Ignis, Terra, and Aqua.”
“And how does oneawakenthese gifts?” Isla asked. She felt that was as good a place to start as any.
“Sometimes during a moment of intense emotional or mental strain. Other times, during intellectual or physical pursuits,” Harold said. “It’s a growth in ability, so to speak, after we have experienced something difficult or challenging. You know—pressure and heat on carbon atoms make diamonds and all that. The strength of these abilities can then also beinfluenced and developed by intellect as well as emotional, social, or even philosophical reasoning.”
“So, I personally got my mark today because I felt some strong emotion while I was teaching a lecture?” She felt silly for simplifying his explanation, but simple was what she needed right now.
Juliette squeezed her arm. “The storm,” she said gently.
Isla nodded, trying not to feel exposed. Juliette was the only one who knew she was afraid of storms, though she hadn’t told her why. She cleared her throat, not liking the feeling of vulnerability as they all studied her.
“So not superhero powers?” Isla asked, trying for a lighter tone to hide her discomfort and break the silent study.
