Page 171 of Shadowblood Souls
A little shiver passes through her body, and she catches my eye just for a second. “I don’t really want to torment even them.”
I offer what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I guess it’s worth it in the long run if it makes sure you don’t torment anyone youreallydon’t want to hurt later?”
“Yeah.” She bites her lip and then wanders off across the grit-strewn yard, scanning the ground.
I have a similar task ahead of me. I need to see if I can just kind-of kill something… get the high of stealing its energy without sucking it dry.
The thought makes my stomach list queasily. I don’t like tapping into that side of my powers at all.
But that’s exactly the problem Rollick is trying to help us tackle. If we shy away from the parts of ourselves we’re afraid of, how can we learn how to master them?
I might not trust him, but I don’t think he’s wrong in suggesting this strategy.
Whether bugs can feel pain or not, they can definitely die. And avoiding taking enough energy to kill them will definitely require particular finesse.
I meander forward, not in the exact same direction as Riva but keeping her within view from the corner of my eye.
As much as I hate the vicious aspect of my powers, I’ve at least had to face it dozens of times in the past under the guardians’ orders. This is all totally new to her.
She might not want me getting physically close to her, but I’ll guide her through any emotional trauma that might rise up as well as I can.
Assuming I can keep a handle on my own. Memories flicker up—the nervous squeal of a pig, the death groan of a golden retriever that’s etched on my soul—and I flinch inwardly.
I didn’t want to. I never would have if our jailers hadn’t made the consequences of refusing their orders worse than the orders themselves.
But always, in the end, some part of me couldn’t get enough.
We’ve crossed about half of the sprawling yard before I spot a fat beetle trundling along looking lost. My gut clenches tighter, but I know it’s perfect for my purposes.
I pluck it up and tuck my hand under the flap of my coat so one of my suckers can rest against the hard-shelled body.
When I’m not already trying to heal, it takes a certain amount of concentrated effort to start siphoning energy. Especially when my initial impulse is to balk at the idea.
I drag in a slow breath and focus on the soft twitching of the bug’s legs against my unwanted flesh. On the faint tickle of life I can sense inside its form.
Take just the smallest sip. Only the minutest of tastes.
Let it be stunned but not killed.
Let it recover.
I hone my attention even more and then give the slightest tug with my talent.
A jolt that’s barely larger than a splinter shoots through my nerves—a split-second tingle that’s so temptingly exhilarating I’ve grasped for more before I’m even conscious of it.
I catch myself an instant later with a mental slap. It’s too late.
With a sinking heart, I bring my hand back around and peer down at the beetle. It lies stiff and still in the middle of my palm.
I don’t need to wait to see if it’ll snap out of a trance. I already know it’s dead.
That fact becomes even more obvious when I move to set it down, and its desiccated body crumbles into dust.
Guilt tangles tight through my chest. I swallow thickly, forcing myself to step forward, to look for another target to try again.
But deep inside, all I really want to do is strangle myself with my own fucking tentacles.
Maybe this is pointless. I’ve neverneededto use this part of my power outside of the guardians’ experiments. Who knows if I ever?—
