A Fractured Light (Beautiful Dark)
Once I learned to control my powers, maybe I’d be able to control what kind of weather I inflicted on people. I’d have to work on that.
Ardith met me at the door with an umbrella. “I can’t do anything about this rain,” she said, frowning. “You are more powerful than you even know. Give me your keys. I’ll drive. You concentrate on aiming the lightning away from us. Sound good?”
I grinned. “Okay,” I said. I was glad to see her. It was nice to have a reminder that this wasn’t in my head.
The drive was treacherous, with actual zigzags of lightning touching down around the car. Thunderstorms were one of my favorite things, and I remembered as a kid going camping with Aunt Jo, the terrified elation of running to shelter to avoid getting hit by a flash. This morning I leaned my forehead against the window on the passenger side and watched the light streak across the sky. I tried to do what I had done with the clouds. It was like painting with my mind, as several bolts flashed and then swirled up, back into the clouds, before they ever hit the ground.
Ardith let out a low whistle. “Asher was right,” she said.
“About what?” I asked. “What did he say?”
She glanced sideways at me. “He really believes you can do this. That you’re stronger than all of us. He thinks you’re going to change things. He’s so happy you’re on our side. Whatever comes.” She smiled warmly. “We both are.”
“He told you that?”
“We’ve known each other a long time. We don’t always have to say things out loud to know what the other is thinking.”
“Do you . . . ?” I started to say. “I mean, have you ever . . . ?” I deflected a flash of lightning from hitting the car, sending it spiraling back into the sky.
“Do I love him? No.” She laughed softly. Something in me relaxed a little. “My heart will always belong to another.”
“Oh.” I paused, trying to remember what I had overheard back at the cabin while I’d supposedly been unconscious. “Is it . . . Gideon?”
Glancing at me, she nodded slightly, then gazed back out the windshield.
“What happened?” I asked. I knew I shouldn’t overstep my careful friendship with Ardith, but I had to know. “And why did we need him specifically for this mission?”
Ardith took a deep breath. The sky churned with phosphorescent light. “When your parents fell in love and were cast to Earth,” she began, “it was the start of a great Truce. There was a tenuous peace for a long time, a balance between the Order and the Rebellion.”
“Right,” I said.
“But before that, we were at war. That’s why we’re so afraid of what is coming. Because we’ve seen the violence that can erupt between the sides when that balance shifts. And it’s never shifted like this.” She looked at me, then looked away. “The war was vicious and lasted for millennia. I was taken by the Order before I even knew what had happened. I was with Asher, and he—he only looked away for a second, but it was one second that counted. I can’t say he’s ever quite forgiven himself for it.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I just continued to stare out the window, sending bolts of lightning back into the wild morning.
“Gideon came after me,” Ardith continued. “We were young and in love. He thought he was invincible. But they caught him. They tortured him, used all kinds of mental tricks, manipulations. They wanted Asher. But Gideon wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t sell out his friend.”
“He must be so strong,” I murmured.
“He was there for a long time.” Ardith nodded to herself, and for a moment it seemed like she’d forgotten I was there, so completely was she brought back to the memory. “I don’t know how long in human time, because that’s not how things work for us. They kept us apart. Eventually he learned their ways—and taught himself to fight back. He beat them at their own game and escaped. He saved me. But it took such a toll on him.”
We were pulling up toward school. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the thunder and lightning more sporadic.
“It had been so long since we’d been together,” Ardith continued. Kids were getting out of cars, slamming doors, calling to their friends. I felt a million miles away. “And he’d changed,” she said. “He was distracted and moody. Sometimes he would vanish in the middle of a conversation, go somewhere far-off, as if his mind wasn’t truly
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