normal human. She burned if exposed to the sun or UV light, and silver was poisonous to her. There were rumors among the staff that AIR had samples of other mythical monsters as well, specifically lycanthropes, or werewolves. Mother even saw reports from credible researchers regarding witches, so you can see where we might not find you to be implausible.”
“We believe in the possibility of witches. Without proof, I, however, don’t trust my daughter’s ability to be unbiased in this case. She’s only ever interacted with people in the lab and her combat instructors. Despite her high intelligence, I think she lacks enough experience to avoid being duped by clever people, especially attractive young people her age.”
A micro-expression of hurt flashed across Caeco’s face before hardening into a glare at her mother.
“Declan, would you demonstrate for Mother?” she asked, her eyes never leaving Dr. Jensen’s.
Aunt Ashling loves candles. I’m pretty sure Yankee Candle Company mentions her by name in their annual financial statements. It’s probably its own line item, maybe after regional sales, you know, like North American sales up x%… Ashling O’Carroll sales up 50 %. The result is a veritable plethora of candles populating our living quarters. Big ones, little ones, handmade, storebought, whatever. They make great targets for my training.
I held both hands in front of me, left palm up, the right hand facing downward, like I was cradling something. After a moment’s concentration that years of practice has made second nature, a ball of crackling blue plasma formed between my hands. Just a small one, maybe like a ping-pong ball in size. Dr. Jensen’s eyes were glued to it, but I could see her looking for tricks like I had wires up my sleeves or something. I pushed the ball lightning across the table toward her, letting it float above the surface, little tendrils of snapping, arcing blue electricity flicking out in every direction, seeking a conductor. The plasma ball, which stayed about eight inches off the tabletop, got close enough that her hair began to stand on end; close enough that the static discharge was palpable. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face as she felt the reality of its approach. When she raised her eyes to mine, I stopped the ball, then pulled it back to my hands. Letting it hover for a moment, I waited like a circus showman for the right moment before absorbing its energy into mine, clapping my hands together, changing its form and instantly redirecting it to multiple points around the room. Candles everywhere in the kitchen and family room area lit at the same time.
Dr. Jensen looked around at the lit candles, even picking up the orange pillar candle in the center of the table to examine it. Aunt Ashling was busy counting.
“I make it terty-seven, dear. A new best?”
“Thirty-eight, Aunt Ash. I got the little tea light in the sculpted owl thingy behind you, too.”
She turned and looked, nodding. “Terty-eight it is. You see, Dr. Jensen. Me nephew Declan is brilliant at manipulating energy. Lighting terty-eight candles at once is more than a bit unreal, it is. I can light four, some days five. Me sweet nephew is as much a product of man’s manipulation as yer daughter there. Jest took a wee bit more than five centuries to get him, is all. And we know a thing or two about running from enemies, eh Declan, boyo?”
Her brogue was getting thicker, a sure sign her emotions were running high.
“We know you have to go, Dr. Jensen. Is there anything you need? Any help we can provide?” I asked. She was still staring, looking from candle to candle and not meeting my eyes.
Caeco sighed and pulled her mother’s untouched bowl of chowder in front of her. After giving me a little shrug, she started to eat it.
“Dr. Jensen?” I asked. She still didn’t
“We believe in the possibility of witches. Without proof, I, however, don’t trust my daughter’s ability to be unbiased in this case. She’s only ever interacted with people in the lab and her combat instructors. Despite her high intelligence, I think she lacks enough experience to avoid being duped by clever people, especially attractive young people her age.”
A micro-expression of hurt flashed across Caeco’s face before hardening into a glare at her mother.
“Declan, would you demonstrate for Mother?” she asked, her eyes never leaving Dr. Jensen’s.
Aunt Ashling loves candles. I’m pretty sure Yankee Candle Company mentions her by name in their annual financial statements. It’s probably its own line item, maybe after regional sales, you know, like North American sales up x%… Ashling O’Carroll sales up 50 %. The result is a veritable plethora of candles populating our living quarters. Big ones, little ones, handmade, storebought, whatever. They make great targets for my training.
I held both hands in front of me, left palm up, the right hand facing downward, like I was cradling something. After a moment’s concentration that years of practice has made second nature, a ball of crackling blue plasma formed between my hands. Just a small one, maybe like a ping-pong ball in size. Dr. Jensen’s eyes were glued to it, but I could see her looking for tricks like I had wires up my sleeves or something. I pushed the ball lightning across the table toward her, letting it float above the surface, little tendrils of snapping, arcing blue electricity flicking out in every direction, seeking a conductor. The plasma ball, which stayed about eight inches off the tabletop, got close enough that her hair began to stand on end; close enough that the static discharge was palpable. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face as she felt the reality of its approach. When she raised her eyes to mine, I stopped the ball, then pulled it back to my hands. Letting it hover for a moment, I waited like a circus showman for the right moment before absorbing its energy into mine, clapping my hands together, changing its form and instantly redirecting it to multiple points around the room. Candles everywhere in the kitchen and family room area lit at the same time.
Dr. Jensen looked around at the lit candles, even picking up the orange pillar candle in the center of the table to examine it. Aunt Ashling was busy counting.
“I make it terty-seven, dear. A new best?”
“Thirty-eight, Aunt Ash. I got the little tea light in the sculpted owl thingy behind you, too.”
She turned and looked, nodding. “Terty-eight it is. You see, Dr. Jensen. Me nephew Declan is brilliant at manipulating energy. Lighting terty-eight candles at once is more than a bit unreal, it is. I can light four, some days five. Me sweet nephew is as much a product of man’s manipulation as yer daughter there. Jest took a wee bit more than five centuries to get him, is all. And we know a thing or two about running from enemies, eh Declan, boyo?”
Her brogue was getting thicker, a sure sign her emotions were running high.
“We know you have to go, Dr. Jensen. Is there anything you need? Any help we can provide?” I asked. She was still staring, looking from candle to candle and not meeting my eyes.
Caeco sighed and pulled her mother’s untouched bowl of chowder in front of her. After giving me a little shrug, she started to eat it.
“Dr. Jensen?” I asked. She still didn’t
Similar Books
