Page 5 of The Discovered
“Well, then how am I supposed to trust you?”
He snorted, and the dirty look I gave him only seemed to make him more amused. “Maybe by judging my words and actions like everyone else?”
Yeah, I wasn’t so sure about that.
“Can I get more of an explanation on whatever the hell energy vampires are and why they’re after me?”
He leaned against the wall by the windows as he faced me, mirroring my crossed arms. A flicker of disgust rolled through his features. “Well, they’re not after you, specifically. They’re just after power, and you have a lot of it. They take from others as a way of life, living on the outskirts of society and getting high off the act of stealing energy. Or some seek to use others as kinds of power batteries, because they weren’t born with much ability for channeling themselves. So they steal. Some of them were banished to the human realm for their crimes, so they prey on human energy instead. They’re the scum of Aradia and Earth.” He spat out the last words like they were spoiled.
I thought of my friends, and anger swelled in my chest. “What happens to the humans?”
“Fatigue. Depression. Insanity. They grow weak. Or ill,” he said softly. “To witches it’s a grave violation. Syphoning away power and gifts without one’s consent. I’d imagine many would seek to use you as an infinite power battery. Or the greatest high of all time.”
My heartrate picked up, the tightness in my chest growing heavier. How did I know that wasn’t what Daelon was doing?
“Well, thank you for saving me. But I can’t be here. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back,” I said.
My mothers died protecting me from this realm. I wanted nothing to do with it. I was an orphan from Northern Ireland who lived in New York City with my friends, my anthropology degree, freelance writing, and doing normal, human things. This power suddenly felt like a sickness, pressing up against me from all angles and squeezing the air from my lungs.
Daelon walked closer, his hands raised in the air in a silentdon’t shoot. Wind bore down on the cabin’s foundations, the furniture beginning its haunting rattle once more. My palms grew hot, begging for release as I struggled to gulp down air.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I need you to listen to me.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, his features hardening into the air of someone with authority. Someone who knew all the answers. “I know you’re scared. But I will prove to you every day that you can trust me. You can’t go back. Going back now would only put you and everyone around you in grave danger. You belong here. I know you can feel it.”
He was right. The energy of this realm was different—less stifling, less rigid—like it was where I was always meant to be. Like it washome. But I wasn’t ready to admit any of it.
I also knew I didn’t want to put my friends in danger, which meant I was stuck here with a stranger in a realm I knew nothing about.
Daelon’s unwavering gaze and steady, assured voice pulled back my focus, enough to halt the panic for the moment. “Right now, you’re free-channeling. Your power is bound up to your emotions, which makes you kind of a wild card. It will burn you up from the inside out. But if you learn to detach your power from your impulses, urges, and feelings, you can use and direct it exactly how you want. I can help you.”
“Why? Why do you want to?” This power felt like a storm, and I was caught in the eye of its hellish cyclone. The idea of control didn’t sound too bad at the moment, but I couldn’t let go of the feeling that it was more curse than gift. It had only brought me pain.
It stole away my parents and now it had taken away my chosen family of friends, too. A tsunami of grief began to build in the periphery, reminding me that I was alone, again—just like the day I arrived in America—and maybe this power would mean I would always be alone in the end.
He sighed, his jaw tensing. “Because I think we have common enemies. And… it’s just something I was called to do. I heard your cry for help, and I came. I can’t explain it.”
Can’t or won’t?Common enemies… the image of the cottage door blasting open—a recurring nightmare reconstructed from memory—was still fresh in my mind’s eye, along with the cacophony of screams that followed.
I shifted positions, wincing and gritting my teeth as pain shot through my ankle.
“I set a couple pills for the pain on your nightstand,” he said. A flash of anger flitted across his features as he inspected the blue and black bruises on my swollen skin. “They’re more magick than medicine. And you’ll heal much quicker than a human now that you’re connected back to so much power.”
I glanced down at my once-scabbed wrist, marveling at the healing that had already taken place. Only a faint red line encircled my skin now. I grabbed the two blue pills on the wooden table, noting the mark of their energetic makeup, as if they had a slight aura of their own. The aura of painlessness. I took them with a gulp of the accompanying glass of water, and the relief was instant.
Daelon and I stared at each other for a few long seconds.
“Okay. I will stay here. For now. But I’m going to need a lot more answers, and if I find out you’re lying to me in any way, I will unleash this untrained witch curse on you so fast,” I warned.
He blinked. “You think being one of the most powerful witches in the realm is a curse?” he asked incredulously, ignoring my threat. “We’ll have to work on that.”
I pursed my lips. I wasn’t ready to talk about my mothers with this stranger. “I just want to take a shower.” As my power simmered down like the hiss of steam from an extinguished fire, all I could feel now was exhaustion. My mind raced, but my body was as heavy as lead.
“There’s a bathroom attached to your room there.” He gestured to the double doors across from the bed. “But you need to stay off your ankle if you want it to heal right. Which means you need help. And I would be more than happy to oblige.”
My stomach fluttered as his eyes moved from my ankle, up my body and back to my eyes. I might as well have been naked already given the state of my dress. I narrowed my eyes.
“Áine,” he said. “Let me help you. I promise not to peek.” The faintest tinge of mischief clouded his eyes as he cocked his head.
I let out a breath, the smirk he was biting back doing little to assuage my unease. It was hard not to get lost in his steady, controlled voice, which seemed to consistently teeter on the edge of commanding.
