Page 426 of Shadowblood Souls
When those toxic spikes first emerged from the side of my arm during the guardians’ tests a couple of years ago, I thought they were permanent. Attached to my bones somehow, extending and contracting like Riva and Zian can with their claws.
It turns out they’re more mobile than that. A couple of weeks ago on our last mission for Clancy, I shot them straight out of my arm into a man who was about to open fire on Riva.
I haven’t mentioned that to Matteo. He believes that his special “procedures” have opened up this new dimension to my supernatural skills.
So he’s been prodding me over and over since he first discovered the change, checking how far and how forcefully I can expel them, how quickly my body can produce new ones, and how accurately I can aim them.
And I can’t pretend weakness or ineptitude, because the shitty chemical he always injects at the start of these sessions makes me nauseatingly compliant.
After trying to resist and failing every time during my first couple of sessions, I’ve achieved some kind of inner peace. I’ll accept that I can’t resist… and focus on gathering all the informationIcan about my own abilities.
Because Lord knows I’m looking forward to the day I can spear the man on the other side of that thick window with my poison quills.
I fix my gaze on the target and apply the mental pressure that I’ve learned primes my spines. The first time I launched them, it was all protective instinct.
Now I know how to control the firing. I adjust the angle of my arm and give a push that’s a combination of will and muscle.
The row of spines pierces my skin and hurtles into the target. One only skims the edge and taps against the wall, but the others thud deep into its wooden surface.
I grimace at the minor error, but behind the pane, Matteo is smiling. “Now use your telekinesis to pry them out and fling them in opposite directions. Half to the left and half to the right.”
As I automatically obey with no real say in the matter, a clammy sensation wraps around my gut.
Part of me is proud of the strides I’ve made under my unwanted teacher’s watchful gaze. I’ve honed not just my skillwith the spines but the invisible force I can inflict on the world too.
But I’m not totally sure it’s agoodthing that those powers are growing even more.
Before, it’d have been a strain to fling multiple objects in opposing directions simultaneously. Now, my talent clamps around the spines and flicks them away from each other without wavering.
Less than two weeks ago, I hesitated to heft Riva through a second-floor window. Now, I suspect I could propel her or any of the guys across a distance like that without any fear of missing my mark.
Not long before that, I shook an entire mountainside with Dominic’s help, feeding me strength. Now… I might be able to rattle the entire plateau Balthazar’s villa is perched on all by myself.
Which would be fantastic if I could count on only applying that strength when I want to. But my temper still has at least as much control over my talent as my rational mind does.
I’ve broken things I didn’t mean to before. I don’t like the idea that I could screw up even worse.
Because there are definitely no shortage of things pissing me off in our current situation.
And I still couldn’t save Sully when he was bleeding out. Couldn’t figure out how to apply constant pressure to every place he needed it without loosening my grip somewhere else.
Funny how Matteo never wants to teach me about fixing things rather than attacking them.
After a few more exercises, the mellowing effect of Matteo’s drug starts to fade. He taps some notes into his computer and then pushes a button that releases the clamps around my ankles. “Good session. You can go now.”
He doesn’t even look my way as he dismisses me. My hands clench—and the target cracks down the middle before I can catch the flare of anger.
Shit.
With shame quivering through my fury, I stride out of the room before I have to hear what Matteo will say about that slip when he notices.
The worst part about my unsteady self-control is that I could screw us over even if I only damage our enemies. If my power strikes out at anything or anyone Balthazar values, will he tear open another shadowblood’s arteries and leave them to die drenched in their own blood?
The image of Sully’s shaking, crimson splattered body flashes through my mind. I walk even faster back to the hall where we have our rooms as if I can outrun it.
Riva is there. The one supernatural ability I’m one hundred percent on board with is the fact that I can pinpoint her location through the tingling of the mark on my sternum.
She’s nearby. She’s okay.
