The Compendium by Christine Hart Page A

life. If Jonah could be with me, whatever did come would be workable.
    “Here we are,” said Jonah.
    We’d arrived at the edge of the bramble line, parallel to the end of the Foothills’ backfield. A new path cut through the woods in the direction of our clearing.
    Jonah turned into the path and we walked until we came to a small grassy patch. A thin quilt had already been spread out on the ground. Jonah sat down on the quilt and beckoned me to do the same. He smiled at me. I smiled back and I felt butterflies in my stomach again.
    “Are you better now? Stable at least?” I asked nervously, knowing what Jonah obviously had in mind.
    “I think so. This past week has been energizing. I admit I worried about training with my ability. After fighting Hugo and all the bullshit afterwards, it did seem like I was getting worse and worse. Camille healing me and spending so much time with gallons of fresh water on tap has really made a difference.”
    He opened his mouth to keep talking, but I couldn’t wait. I leaned in and kissed him, softly at first, but when he responded with enthusiasm, I escalated too.
    I pulled Jonah on top of me as I lay back on the quilt. I welcomed the weight of his long chest and lean hips as he kissed me deeply. His hands reached around me. One arm cradled my back while the other went under my shirt and up to my breast. I saw flashes of Jonah’s past as our bodies moved together. He played volleyball on a beach, still pale, but grinning in the sun.
    He wore a tuxedo for a graduation, more handsome than I’d ever seen him. He walked along the Inner Harbour in Victoria as the wind played with his black hair. I felt a rush of breathless energy as I saw glimpses of his past connected completely to his present body.
    Jonah suddenly flexed uncomfortably and let out a gasp that was not pleasure. He grunted and rolled off me. Panic flooded my heart. I leapt up to evaluate him. Jonah’s eyes closed. His face became a portrait of pain. He curled into a fetal shape.
    “Jonah! No! What happened?”
    He didn’t answer with words, but turned over and over, moaning. He lay still, breathing shallowly. “I don’t know what happened. I was getting better.”
    “Obviously this is too soon. We’re not doing this again. Not unless you get treatment you can count on.” I stood and backed away from Jonah. He stayed on the ground, sitting up to face me.
    “Don’t give up. We’ll figure this out,” said Jonah.
    “Maybe. I’m not going to take chances though. How did you feel when it you drained me ?”
    “That’s not the same thing.”
    “Why, because I’m a girl? It’s not okay for you to hurt me, but if I’m the one doing the damage, it’s totally fine!”
    Anger swelled in my belly. Anger at life, not Jonah, but life didn’t have a face I could target.
    “I did way more damage to you that day than you did to me a moment ago.”
    “Easy for you to say, you didn’t just have to watch the person you love writhing in pain!”
    “You love me?” Jonah smiled with a cheeky playfulness. “Good, because I love you too.”
    “Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Rage overrode everything. “I’m sick and tired of this–of us–being a fight. I might love you today, but I’ll get over it. I have to get over it. We stand no chance of fighting Ivan and whoever else he’s got on his side if we’re screwing around with this emotional crap!”
    “Take some time and relax.”
    “You take some time.” I stormed back to the road. I marched down the bramble path and back to the farmhouse without looking back. I was being unfair to Jonah, but life was being unfair to me. Ivan, my true target, specifically whatever force inside him orchestrated The Compendium , needed to bear the brunt of my vengeance.
    If I stayed angry, I could nurse the emotion into hatred, turning hatred into psychic and telekinetic energy. I could become a force Ivan would be sorry he’d ever created.
    Back in front of the