Page 72 of Remnants
“Or me,” I chime in, and they both turn their faces to mine. “Pile them up, and I’ll…make them go away. No muss, no fuss.”
Both men hold my stare as if waiting for me to crack.
Well, it’s not that Iwantto do it. But what other choice do we have for so many? They’re already dead and won’t feel it, is how Ireason with myself. Ifthisis the way I can help, then this is what I’ll do.
I cross my arms, returning their stares with a firm look of my own.
“You sure you want to do this?” Kellan checks with me anyway.
“Yes. Let’s do it.” I push my sleeves up past my elbow. “Start making a pile.”
Jackson nods once and immediately uses his gift to do what I said. Kellan takes another second to watch me before he turns to do it. He stops to direct any Guild members standing around to either help him or work on the rest of the room.
Evie’s pushing an oversized mop around one side of the room to soak up the water while a few others are mopping between tables or wiping them down. Fabian’s abnormally long tongue zips out to snag some leaves, then whips it back. He swallows it. The next time, his tongue sticks to shards of glass, and then it disappears into his mouth again.
I cringe at the thought of eating glass, touching my hand to my throat and then looking away.
Kneeling beside the growing pile, I call my gift to my hands, the heat spilling free from my gut and warming my skin. It feels…good. I close my eyes and spread it to the rest of my body, letting its violent heat sizzle and scorch away the cold. I let it fill me up like that sweet burn of alcohol that warms you from the inside out.
I’m supposed to be practicing with my gift turned on like this all the time, but I’ve still been too worried about repercussions.
I’ll start today, I tell myself, letting this moment be the beginning of my personal training.
“Whenever you’re ready, beautiful,” Kellan says from above.
I sneak a quick look at the pile, measuring the size and distance of it, then shut my eyes again. I don’t want to watch it. I’ll focus on my gift, on feeling that, instead of what I’m actually doing. It’ll be just like the piles of concrete I’d worked tirelessly on. Just…a bit more than that. Using my gift on people has always been a greater drain, so I’m not sure how I’ll do with this scale.
“You need to work on your physical stamina.”
Right.
I lean forward until my hands land in the pile. I don’t focus on the feeling beneath them or try to identify what I’m touching. Once I make contact, I pour my gift out in a steady stream, as I had before so many times. Stretching it out. Feeling the boundary with my gift rather than using my eyes, wrapping it around and over, through and under.
When I think I have it all, I trigger the rest of my gift.
It’s not as simple as concrete, which would collapse to dust from a single burst.
This is a slower process. Apparently, bodies take more time and more of my gift to break down completely.
I keep going. On and on and on.
Until my arms shake and my body trembles from the effort.
More.
More.
Sweat clings to my brow and slides down my temple. The heat that had once warmed me is now sweltering. It burns beneath my skin like I’m being boiled from the inside.
I have to breathe through my mouth as the smell becomes unbearable, but even that can only help so much before it coats my throat. My lungs. I choke on it, pushing harder with my gift in a desperate attempt to finish it.
Just…a little…more…
I’m down to the last one before me. I don’t let myself breathe until it’s done, gritting my teeth and holding my breath until my hands finally meet the floor.
I draw a shuddering breath of air, the pain wracking my body like the world’s worst flu. I fall back on my heels and slowly open my eyes.
They’re gone. Red fills my vision. I raise my hands and stare at the deepest shade of crimson before a towel is suddenly there, covering my hands and forearms, and blocking them from view.
