A Fractured Light (Beautiful Dark)

couldn’t lift them anymore. They were too heavy . . . and the calm washed over me, obliterating all other feelings in the world. I was floating on a cloud, blissful, oblivious. . . .
    Someone had taken hold of my arms, and I heard a voice. “Skye. Skye!” The peaceful tranquility washed away, and as I opened my eyes, I found Asher, Ardith, and Gideon staring at me. A cold, empty unease sat in my chest.
    “Are you okay?” Gideon asked, still holding my arms. “Was that too much for a first try?” I blinked several times, trying to refocus my vision. The cold pit in my chest began to soften, breaking into fine pieces and scattering away with each breath I took. I continued to breathe deep, steadying myself.
    “Skye,” Asher said, looking concerned. “Answer us. Are you okay?”
    “Yes,” I said faintly. I felt violated, used, manipulated. I understood now how Gideon couldn’t endure a constant stream of this and fully make it back. It took something from you. Maybe that was the way to recognize when the Order was influencing your mind. This—this was abuse.
    “You did well for your first time,” Gideon said. He looked like he was trying to focus his own eyes, too. I wondered if it was hard for him to see me go through it, if it brought back memories he’d rather bury. “You came very close.”
    “It’s easier now than it will be when you’re up against a real Guardian,” Ardith said, coming up to me and putting her hand on my back. “He learned from the Order, but he’s nowhere near as strong as they are.”
    My palms had begun to sweat and nausea was sweeping through me. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. Somewhere, in the far reaches of my mind, I heard a car pull up in the driveway and cut the engine. There were footsteps on the gravel leading up to the house. I opened my eyes and sat up quickly.
    “Aunt Jo’s home.” The footsteps were now walking through the house. Asher glanced uneasily at the door to the deck. Gideon and Ardith shifted as the door slid open and Aunt Jo walked out. Her eyes moved from Asher to the Rebels and then landed on me. Something was raging in her eyes, but I had no idea what.
    “Skye,” she said. “You’re still grounded.”
    “I know,” I said quickly. “But I figured—if we were at my house—”
    “Everybody out,” she interrupted. The quiet in her voice was almost scarier than when she really got mad and was yelling all over the place. This was a side of Aunt Jo that I’d never seen, and I didn’t like it.
    “These are my friends,” I said, my voice rising. “You can’t—”
    “It’s my house,” she said. “I can.”
    “It’s okay, Skye,” said Asher quietly, putting his hand on my back. “We’ll leave.”
    “No!” I shouted, turning to Aunt Jo. “Why are you doing this? You would never kick out Cassie and Dan.”
    “I don’t know these new friends of yours,” she said. “Why have I never met them before?”
    “They’re . . . new in school,” I said, glancing at Gideon and Ardith. “They’re friends of Asher’s.” Aunt Jo met Asher’s eyes. Something passed between them—so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it.
    “Leave,” she said, her voice like cold steel.
    Asher bent in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll be here,” he whispered. “Outside. Around. All night, okay? If you need me.”
    “Thank you,” I whispered back. I wanted to squeeze his hand, but Aunt Jo was watching me in a seriously unsettling way.
    Asher nodded once, politely, to Aunt Jo as he left the deck. Ardith and Gideon followed him.
    I stood up, too, facing her and crossing my arms.
    “I don’t understand what I did,” I said, totally aware of the fact that I sounded like a little kid. “Why do you hate me all of a sudden?”
    “Hate you?” Her eyes softened, and she looked so tired suddenly. “I don’t hate you.”
    “Then why are you being so mean to me? What did I do? I said I was sorry about leaving. But you can’t stop me from leaving again, Aunt Jo. I’ll be eighteen in less than a year, and I’m going to go to college soon, or . . .” I trailed off, wondering, for the first time, if college was still possible for me. What if my powers got stronger? What if war really was coming again?
    What if I don’t make it to eighteen?
    I shook off the thought. “I’m not a kid anymore,” I continued. “You can’t keep treating me like I’m still that six-year-old you have to take care of. I can take care of