Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Markadian sighs with great weariness. “Very well.” He says nothing further, but merely glances to the side, as if seeing something no one else can.
Then from behind him comes a shadow.
A figure.
Kyle at once recognizes it—the figure from the alley, from the bar, the one who forced his own pinky ring onto his finger just earlier this very night.
Entirely obscured in shadow as it always is, it slowly draws forth, stops next to Markadian’s desk.
Suddenly the shadow is traded for shape and color.
Like a light switch in a room, flicked on, the vacuum of sight and sound released instantly.
It’s a hooded female, just under five feet tall, a pixie cut of short brown hair, alabaster skin, with dark, sickly circles under her large brown eyes. There is something sinister and off about those eyes, her dead expression, her stark lack of empathy.
Kyle can feel it, that abyssal vacuum of feeling.
Infinite darkness. Coldness. Sharp and biting and evil.
He pulls his emotional reach away from her at once, not daring to connect to her again.
“You have Wendy’s attention,” says Markadian patiently to Cindy. “Ask your question.”
After a dainty sigh, Cindy tilts her head, then addresses the unfeeling figure—Wendy, apparently. “Firstly, I am in awe of your fascinating shrouding gift. Really, to be able to manipulate shadows the way you do, it’s remarkable.”
“I manipulate light, not shadow.”
It’s the first time Kyle hears the figure’s voice. It’s soft and gentle, almost sweet, which somehow makes this Wendy all the more disturbing.
Cindy squints, thinks on her response for a second, decides instead to move on to the point. “Did you notice anything kind or meaningful about Kyle during your time observing him?”
Wendy’s face reflects nothing when she answers, “He kept a little silver ring, a reminder of his dead family, even though the ring was harmful for him to touch. He lost it. I claimed the ring, then was instructed to return it to him.”
Kyle instinctively touches his hand, the finger in question still scalded where the ring sat for too many seconds.
“You have no silver allergy yourself?” observes Cindy.
“Only the sun,” she confirms, “but even that is no bother, for I can manipulate its light away from me.”
“Oh.” Cindy considers that. “Clever, I … I guess.”
“Yes,” cuts in Markadian, “Wendy is a marvel. I am proud to have her on my team. Any further questions, Cindy?”
“Just one more, this one is for Kyle.” She smiles with a tiny pinch of sympathy. “Kyle, stud … I don’t seem to recall reading from your file what your gift is. Perhaps that will and should be taken into consideration before we cast our final vote. Have you found it yet, hot stuff? Have you discovered what it is?”
It’s Wendy who answers on his behalf. “He can read the emotions of others.” Her cold eyes flick to his. “He made the mistake of trying to locate any in me.”
Kyle holds his wounded finger, glaring bitterly at her.
“A reader of emotions,” mutters Markadian. “Even his gift is unremarkable. I think I have encountered nearly forty of your kind in my lifetime. Your gift comes from the heart. Not the mind or body.” He shakes his head. “The heart is the weakest of the three. I have no use for such a gift, none at all. Anyone else have something to add? Are we done?”
Kyle feels like it’s all slipping away, all of this moving too quickly, too messily. “W-Wait …”
“Shall we vote and put an end to it?” asks Markadian to the rest. “Good. All in favor of sparing the one Kyle Bentley Amos from immortal destruction, raise a hand.”
Kyle turns, breath held.
From the sea of desks around him, only two hands.
Two in favor of sparing his life.
Cindy, and the pink-suited man.
“But I …” Kyle can’t believe his eyes. “I didn’t even have a chance to defend myself. I didn’t have a chance to—”
“I’m afraid you are alone in this court,” states Markadian. “You have no friends in this council, nor any other council in the region. Unless someone wishes to lay down their immortal life against yours as collateral, I’m afraid this is the end of your very short road. Director Cindy? Is your infatuation still alive? Do you wish to lay your immortal life against his?”
She shrinks into her seat. “Sorry, Kyle. You’re hot, but—”
“Anyone else?” asks Markadian, addressing the rest of the directors. “No one wishes to lay their immortal life against his? What a surprise.” Markadian closes the folder with a sigh. “I grow weary of this case. I must confess, when I first received it, I was intrigued. It isn’t often our kind go ‘under the radar’ as long as he did. It was twenty-six years before we even had a log of him in our database. Now we have a headache to clean up and too much paperwork.” He stares at a stunned Kyle. “Were he not aided by one of our own, I am certain he would have been found instantly and dealt with.”