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Authors: Jen Greyson
Tags: Fantasy
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and glare at the wet lawn beyond the glass. The earlier storm dissipated while we traveled. Whatever this is, it’s not lightning.
Fighting through it, I kneel and tip my chin toward the room, searching. A familiar pair of polished wingtips peeks out from beside the couch.
He’s here.
I gasp and try to straighten, but a new wave of pain twists my guts again, folding me over like a giant hand controls my movements. All I can manage is a glare.
“You,” I say through clenched teeth.
He flinches and glances at his own body parts as if taking inventory, patting at his charcoal tweed suit, straightening his navy tie, fussing with the French cuffs of his pristine white shirt. If I weren’t on the verge of puking, I’d scoff at his pompousness. Seemingly satisfied, he crosses his arms and takes in the rest of the room, like I can’t see him.
Papi leaps off the top step and races to my side. Pompous Ass staggers backward.
Another wave of pain overtakes me. I grind my molars together and try not to pass out. I don’t think Ass expected anyone else here.
“Evy, are you okay? What happened?” Papi asks, kneeling before me.
I point a shaking finger toward Ass. “Ask him.”
“What? I don’t understand.” He twists around and looks over the room before turning back to me, his gentle fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I breathe through a fresh contraction.
From across the room, Ass says, “A girl?”
Papi doesn’t react.
“It can’t be a girl . . .” Ass mumbles. “A daughter? There must be other children—boys. She was supposed to be some random traveler . . . not his daughter .”
He’s freaking me out, and I don’t like that Papi doesn’t even seem to notice him. Blackness creeps along the edge of my vision, and the intensity of the pain ratchets up another notch. I moan.
From the far end of a tunnel, Ass’s voice addresses me. “I can help you.”
Papi leaps up and steps in front of me. “Where did you come from?” Finally.
I can feel Ass looking around Papi and speaking directly to me.
“It’s your power,” he says. “You must stop fighting. The lightning exists as part of you now. The harder you resist, the more painful its occupancy will become. You have already found it to travel. Find it now. Isolate the main coil and accept its residency in your body. Your lightning is as much an organ as your heart. You know precisely where your heart is, can feel it beating. Do the same with your lightning. Find it, acknowledge it, and the pain will cease.”
As he speaks, the pain ebbs and spikes with each syllable. Though I don’t want to trust him, I do what he says. Like with the power plant and our earlier interaction in Spain, my lightning responds. Now it flares bright and intense, impossible not to find. I block the television noise, Papi’s harsh breath, and my own reactions. Turning inward, I focus on the nucleus of pain. Instantly, it settles, as if only wanting recognition. It changes to a thinner, tamer version of itself, but it doesn’t vanish like it does on my hands. It feels like a bomb of adrenalin, waiting for a charge, but there’s no pain now. I unfold and stagger upright but stay behind Papi.
“How did you know that would work?”
Ass steps back and sweeps his arm toward the couches. “It seems we have many secrets to share.”
Papi’s body tenses, and his arm keeps me pinned behind him. “Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?”
The stranger meets my glare and asks, “Evy, correct?”
“Right.”
He shifts his attention back to Papi. “I had the pleasure of meeting your daughter recently.” Extending his hand slowly, as if afraid to startle Papi, he says, “I’m Ilif Rotiart. I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”
Chapter 7
The energy in the room is palpable. Shielded behind Papi’s rock-hard body, I witness their standoff. Papi hasn’t fought in decades, but we’re in the ring now and the bell just
Fighting through it, I kneel and tip my chin toward the room, searching. A familiar pair of polished wingtips peeks out from beside the couch.
He’s here.
I gasp and try to straighten, but a new wave of pain twists my guts again, folding me over like a giant hand controls my movements. All I can manage is a glare.
“You,” I say through clenched teeth.
He flinches and glances at his own body parts as if taking inventory, patting at his charcoal tweed suit, straightening his navy tie, fussing with the French cuffs of his pristine white shirt. If I weren’t on the verge of puking, I’d scoff at his pompousness. Seemingly satisfied, he crosses his arms and takes in the rest of the room, like I can’t see him.
Papi leaps off the top step and races to my side. Pompous Ass staggers backward.
Another wave of pain overtakes me. I grind my molars together and try not to pass out. I don’t think Ass expected anyone else here.
“Evy, are you okay? What happened?” Papi asks, kneeling before me.
I point a shaking finger toward Ass. “Ask him.”
“What? I don’t understand.” He twists around and looks over the room before turning back to me, his gentle fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I breathe through a fresh contraction.
From across the room, Ass says, “A girl?”
Papi doesn’t react.
“It can’t be a girl . . .” Ass mumbles. “A daughter? There must be other children—boys. She was supposed to be some random traveler . . . not his daughter .”
He’s freaking me out, and I don’t like that Papi doesn’t even seem to notice him. Blackness creeps along the edge of my vision, and the intensity of the pain ratchets up another notch. I moan.
From the far end of a tunnel, Ass’s voice addresses me. “I can help you.”
Papi leaps up and steps in front of me. “Where did you come from?” Finally.
I can feel Ass looking around Papi and speaking directly to me.
“It’s your power,” he says. “You must stop fighting. The lightning exists as part of you now. The harder you resist, the more painful its occupancy will become. You have already found it to travel. Find it now. Isolate the main coil and accept its residency in your body. Your lightning is as much an organ as your heart. You know precisely where your heart is, can feel it beating. Do the same with your lightning. Find it, acknowledge it, and the pain will cease.”
As he speaks, the pain ebbs and spikes with each syllable. Though I don’t want to trust him, I do what he says. Like with the power plant and our earlier interaction in Spain, my lightning responds. Now it flares bright and intense, impossible not to find. I block the television noise, Papi’s harsh breath, and my own reactions. Turning inward, I focus on the nucleus of pain. Instantly, it settles, as if only wanting recognition. It changes to a thinner, tamer version of itself, but it doesn’t vanish like it does on my hands. It feels like a bomb of adrenalin, waiting for a charge, but there’s no pain now. I unfold and stagger upright but stay behind Papi.
“How did you know that would work?”
Ass steps back and sweeps his arm toward the couches. “It seems we have many secrets to share.”
Papi’s body tenses, and his arm keeps me pinned behind him. “Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?”
The stranger meets my glare and asks, “Evy, correct?”
“Right.”
He shifts his attention back to Papi. “I had the pleasure of meeting your daughter recently.” Extending his hand slowly, as if afraid to startle Papi, he says, “I’m Ilif Rotiart. I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”
Chapter 7
The energy in the room is palpable. Shielded behind Papi’s rock-hard body, I witness their standoff. Papi hasn’t fought in decades, but we’re in the ring now and the bell just
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