No Peace for the Damned

then.”
    Everyone looked at the ceiling.
    My breath caught when Theo turned to me. It’d only been a few seconds. He didn’t say it out loud, but I knew. He had dissipated the illusion. Not because he had the ability to see past thepower, but because
I
did. Our eyes held and the butterflies in my gut grew into a painful swarm.
    Silently he mouthed the words,
We need to talk
. Something low heated up inside me as I watched his lips move. So warm, so soft against the dark stubble along his jaw. He seemed to almost glow as the heat inside me spread. I nodded.
    Heather gasped. I took a shaky breath.
    “H-how did you do it, Heather?” I asked.
    “I don’t know, really,” she said, practically bouncing in her seat. “I just knew it wasn’t really there so I thought about what
was
really there. Like the cracks in the ceiling that make out the shape of Bill Clinton’s head, and the cobweb that’s been hanging over the doorway to the kitchen forever.”
Man, I really needed to clean this place
. “And once I focused only on what was real, the chandelier was just, gone.”
    “OK, good,” I said. “Now everyone else try to do that.”
    They squinted hard at the ceiling this time. I made a point to focus on each one of them. “I did it! It’s gone!” Cordele yelled after another minute.
    “Me too!” Jon said then sat back in satisfaction.
    Another two or three minutes later everyone had erased the chandelier.
    …
    “OK, let’s try something different,” I said, fanning myself. We’d been practicing for over an hour. The house had turned into an oven and the warm cross breeze from the open windows felt more like the night’s sweaty breath than anything helpful.
    I reached behind my ottoman to the floor next to me and conjured a stack of twelve-inch candles as if they had always beenthere. I handed the stack to Charles, who took one and passed the rest to Marie, who did the same until everyone had a candle.
    “These are fast-burning candles,” I explained. “They will be completely melted within a matter of minutes. Hold one tightly in both hands. You have approximately three minutes before the candles completely melt in your hands. I suggest you concentrate.”
    This was a good exercise. Motivating and innovative.
    “It’s going to
burn
us?” Charles asked.
    “Not if you can recognize it isn’t there,” I retorted. Geez, if a little hot wax made them whine, what they hell were they doing going up against my family?
    He growled low and shared a glance with Shane. Both men were especially frustrated. It made sense, of course. They were the executors of the group. Foot soldiers. Without a clear method to attain their goal, eliminating the illusions was a challenge.
    Instantly, the candles were lit.
    Theo and Heather vanished their candles immediately. Thirteen and Cordele in the first minute. I gave Thirteen a small smile. He didn’t usually participate in training, but I should have known he would be at the top of the class.
    No one cried out when the wax began to drip, but those still holding their candles strained against the burn. Charles inhaled on a hiss as the hot wax coated his fingers. Everyone else had dissipated the illusion. I waited for the wax to harden on his hands, then vanished the illusion. He flexed and turned his hands slowly.
    “It’s no big deal,” Marie said softly. Charles pulled away from her.
    “This is insane!” he yelled. “How are we supposed to fight against pain that real? That pain was real! Anyone who felt the wax burn their skin knew the pain was real! If this is what we’re up against, it’s impossible—it’s suicide. They could throw fire at us, or run us over with a truck, and the pain would be real!”
    “It’s only real if you let your mind accept it as real,” Thirteen said calmly.
    “Yeah, well, when my hands are on fire, I’m sorry but that just seems real to me!”
    “That’s why we’re practicing, Charles,” Thirteen said, his voice rising. “Why we’re so grateful to Magnolia for demonstrating, once again, the level of power we are up against.”
    “Grateful,” Charles snorted. “Yeah, let me just give the girl a fucking hug for kicking my ass and frying my hands. Again!” He stood abruptly and ran a frustrated hand over his buzzed hair. “This whole thing is bullshit!” He plowed out the front door, slamming the screen in his wake.
    Marie sighed. “Maybe we could take a break?”
    Her concern for her husband raised my