answer straight out of the le Coire family textbook—if they believed in putting such information down on paper. “The human body blocks power both ways, keeping magic in, but outside powers out, like a shell protecting a nut. To use magic, you have to reach past your own skin. That means gathering more power than most people have, which makes you tastier, and then giving up your primary defense. The first time I successfully raised enough magic to do something impressive, when I wastwelve, a bunch of those shadow-things swarmed at me. I ended up having to tell people at school I had mono, it took that long for me to get any strength back.”
“I bet Cooper was worried,” Samantha said.
Delilah chuckled. This time it was genuine and not just an attempt to be disarming. “You’re sweet on him, aren’t you?”
“Am not,” Samantha retorted.
“Look, it’s okay,” Delilah assured her. “Cooper Blake is absolutely
not
my type. I care about him. He’s a friend and, of course, he’s on my team, too. But I like a guy with a little more spine and a little more … pizzazz.”
“He’s been good to me,” Samantha said softly. “He’s trying to help me.”
“Yeah, he’s in the wrong place for that,” Delilah scoffed. “Look, Ryan works well with humans, and—” She broke off when Samantha started to object again. “Maybe you used to be human. But you’re not anymore. I can respect you as a person—which is more than I can say for Ryan—but don’t expect me to treat you like you’re a regular human being with no unusual features. If nothing else you’re a little mortality-challenged.”
“I think I got the mortality thing down pretty well,” Samantha replied hotly. “It’s kind of requisite to dying, right?”
Delilah wasn’t cut out to be a teacher. She didn’t have the patience for it.
Mortal
and
immortal
meant different things in this context than they did in a biology class.“When you’re dealing with power, it’s a technical term. Mortality is what gives you the ability to touch things. It’s flesh and blood.”
“And you lose it when you die?”
Delilah was pretty certain that you lose
everything
when you die except the would-be dust the body was made of, but didn’t think Samantha was the type to accept that as a response. “Yeah,” she replied. “And normally when humans lose that, the scavengers eat what’s left.”
Samantha moved again. She seemed to be sitting on the car hood next to Delilah, which Delilah preferred; it took less effort to see her out of the corner of the eye than it did to look at her straight on. The power she put out from this close, though, caused gooseflesh to raise on Delilah’s arms.
“How long?” Samantha asked, her voice not exactly deeper, but darker. Was she frightened?
Delilah blinked, distracted by the cold power washing past her. “How long what?”
“Until they finish me off,” Samantha said.
“Oh.” Delilah hadn’t expected Samantha to seem so
sincere
. “Well … I mean, if you were really just human, they would have done it pretty much instantly.”
“Then what am I? And why don’t I remember? I don’t have any memories from before Cooper opened his eyes in that hospital.”
Delilah shifted uncomfortably. The last thing she had expected was to feel sorry for this creature. She had thought that maybe she could disconnect Samantha from Cooper, and use Samantha for her own means, the sameway Ryan probably planned to. Delilah didn’t think of herself as overly burdened with protective instincts, but she couldn’t help but feel some pity at Samantha’s plight.
“I don’t know what you are,” she answered truthfully. “If you don’t have mortal power, and you haven’t been devoured by the shadows, then you have immortal power. It’s kind of an either/or thing. As for why you don’t remember your life before this, I don’t have an answer. Most immortals are these awesome, scary-as-hell, godlike creatures.
“I bet Cooper was worried,” Samantha said.
Delilah chuckled. This time it was genuine and not just an attempt to be disarming. “You’re sweet on him, aren’t you?”
“Am not,” Samantha retorted.
“Look, it’s okay,” Delilah assured her. “Cooper Blake is absolutely
not
my type. I care about him. He’s a friend and, of course, he’s on my team, too. But I like a guy with a little more spine and a little more … pizzazz.”
“He’s been good to me,” Samantha said softly. “He’s trying to help me.”
“Yeah, he’s in the wrong place for that,” Delilah scoffed. “Look, Ryan works well with humans, and—” She broke off when Samantha started to object again. “Maybe you used to be human. But you’re not anymore. I can respect you as a person—which is more than I can say for Ryan—but don’t expect me to treat you like you’re a regular human being with no unusual features. If nothing else you’re a little mortality-challenged.”
“I think I got the mortality thing down pretty well,” Samantha replied hotly. “It’s kind of requisite to dying, right?”
Delilah wasn’t cut out to be a teacher. She didn’t have the patience for it.
Mortal
and
immortal
meant different things in this context than they did in a biology class.“When you’re dealing with power, it’s a technical term. Mortality is what gives you the ability to touch things. It’s flesh and blood.”
“And you lose it when you die?”
Delilah was pretty certain that you lose
everything
when you die except the would-be dust the body was made of, but didn’t think Samantha was the type to accept that as a response. “Yeah,” she replied. “And normally when humans lose that, the scavengers eat what’s left.”
Samantha moved again. She seemed to be sitting on the car hood next to Delilah, which Delilah preferred; it took less effort to see her out of the corner of the eye than it did to look at her straight on. The power she put out from this close, though, caused gooseflesh to raise on Delilah’s arms.
“How long?” Samantha asked, her voice not exactly deeper, but darker. Was she frightened?
Delilah blinked, distracted by the cold power washing past her. “How long what?”
“Until they finish me off,” Samantha said.
“Oh.” Delilah hadn’t expected Samantha to seem so
sincere
. “Well … I mean, if you were really just human, they would have done it pretty much instantly.”
“Then what am I? And why don’t I remember? I don’t have any memories from before Cooper opened his eyes in that hospital.”
Delilah shifted uncomfortably. The last thing she had expected was to feel sorry for this creature. She had thought that maybe she could disconnect Samantha from Cooper, and use Samantha for her own means, the sameway Ryan probably planned to. Delilah didn’t think of herself as overly burdened with protective instincts, but she couldn’t help but feel some pity at Samantha’s plight.
“I don’t know what you are,” she answered truthfully. “If you don’t have mortal power, and you haven’t been devoured by the shadows, then you have immortal power. It’s kind of an either/or thing. As for why you don’t remember your life before this, I don’t have an answer. Most immortals are these awesome, scary-as-hell, godlike creatures.
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