This time Aydan’s car is in the parking lot, so I’m not surprised when I seem him waiting on one of the benches that faces Lake Union. I walk purposefully to make sure he hears me coming. As soon as he does, he stands and turns. His shoulders are tense, his face shadowed by his hoodie. I know he’s nervous, but I’m glad to see him, glad to be out of Elliot’s lair, if only for a little while, glad to be with someone who’s still human.
The night is clear, unlike the time we met last week. A full moon shines directly above, scattering glimmering stars over the water. I stop several paces away from Aydan. He drops his hood and gives me a single nod.
My throat is dry and stiff. I feel the need to prove myself all over again, to scream at the top of my lungs that I’m still me. But trying too hard would only accomplish the opposite. I wish there was some sort of proof I could give him every time we meet. Maybe a secret that the agent couldn’t get to. No such luck. Everything I know, Azrael knows, whether I want her to or not.
I wonder why it doesn’t work the other way around. Why I don’t know anything about her besides what I witnessed when she took over. I guess there isn’t much there, just a cluster of cells that needs me to think, store memories or be anything at all.
Words escape me at the moment, so I pull the new thumb drive I’ve prepared and hand it over to Aydan. He takes it without saying anything and slips it in his front pocket. Sighing heavily, he sits back down.
“I wish the test would work,” he says.
For some reason, the sound of his voice reassures me and the stiffness around my throat goes away. I slump next to him. “It’s a damn thing,” I say, “to pretend I’m not me most of the time. And then, when I can finally be myself, to have no one believe me.”
“I want to believe you,” he says. “But it isn’t easy.”
“I know, and I thank you for that. I know we never quite saw eye to eye, so it means a great deal that you’re here … trying.”
“Sorry I was always such a jerk.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I say with a smirk. He was a jerk, and I don’t mind agreeing with him.
“Ha, ha.”
I chuckle and, placing a hand dramatically over my heart, I add, “I’m glad you’ve changed.”
Aydan ignores my theatrics and responds in a serious tone. “Well, it’s a different world. I have to be a different person with those who warrant it. The person I should’ve always been.” He exhales. His shoulders dip and stay down, letting go of all the tension I first saw.
The mood between us grows somber and heavy once more. Will we, humans, ever be able to laugh freely again? Will we ever feel the careless abandon we took for granted?
“I’m into Elliot’s security system,” I say. “The new thumb drive has the schematics in it. I can leave any time I want now, so it will be easier to meet, if we have to.”
“Good,” he says in a flat tone that makes me think security schematics for one Eklyptor building means nothing to IgNiTe—even if said building is Elliot’s lair.
I really want to give them something they can use, something that can make a difference in this fight. “There’s a file server I’m still trying to reach. It’s giving me fits, but I’ll get it. Whatever they keep in there must be important, ’cause the security around it is tight.”
“Sounds promising.”
“I’m doing my best.”
“I know you are.”
Angling my body in his direction, I clear my throat. He tears his dark gaze from the rippling lake and watches me take two chocolate bars out of my jacket pocket and place them on the bench between us. He frowns at them.
“I was wondering,” I say, “if you could help me.”
He cocks his head to one side. A strand of black hair falls over his pale forehead. Moonlight catches his eyes making them look like mirrors for an instant. Goose bumps erupt on my forearms and travel up to my neck as it occurs to me that this may not be Aydan anymore, but a cynical Eklyptor who—taking advantage of his pale skin—has decided to morph him into a vampire or some other creature of the night.
I shake my unease, telling myself that if he’s not Aydan anymore, humans are one step closer to extinction, and there’s nothing the likes of me can do to save us, so it wouldn’t matter.
“Help you with what?” he asks.
“Meditating.”
“Here? Now?”
“Here. Now.” I say firmly.
Aydan angles his body in my direction until our knees almost touch. “Do you think that’s a smart idea with what you’ve been through? The agent has to know more about you, now. What if it isn’t safe?”
“I won’t lie and tell you it doesn’t scare me, but I have to try. I want to be able to control my telekinetic powers. They’re so unpredictable I can’t rely on them at all. Meditation is the only thing that will help me do that.” One meditation session unleashed my skills, if I can manage a few more, maybe it’ll get easier. “Besides, I beat the agent, and since then the shadows seem to be easier to keep at bay. Please, help me get the hang of it. After that, I’ll do it on my own.”
My gaze wanders to the chocolate bars resting on the bench. Asking for help is such a foreign thing that it makes heat rush to my cheeks. “I brought pick-me-ups.” I point at the chocolates, trying to drive his intense eyes away from my face. “They’ll help me bounce back, if I fa … fail.” I was going to say faint, but I’ve already dragged my pride through the mud enough tonight.
“You’re right about one thing,” he says. “Meditation does help and quickly. Though you have to keep doing it. All the time. Once or twice isn’t enough. If you stop, the effects go away. But it does the trick.” Aydan extends a hand and holds it between us. He squints, a fringe of long, blank lashes hooding his eyes. His breathing slows and becomes audible. After a few beats, a ball of blue light crackles to life on his palm. Miniature lightning bolts flash and strike his fingers, dancing and skittering in a small, contained universe of their own.
“Wow,” I say. “That is just … wow.”
He raises his hand, bringing the light toward his face, catching the storm in his eyes. Mesmerized, he watches as the colors shift from white to yellow to blue. He frowns and seems to ponder for a moment, then flicks his wrist and sends the ball of energy flying above the grass and into the lake’s ever-shifting waters. As Aydan’s tiny storm touches the surface, it hisses and spreads over the small waves, making a dazzling pattern. My breath catches as I’m reminded of that 4th of July a few years back when I watched the fireworks reflect off the mirror-like lake. It’s hypnotizing.
“Did you know it would do that?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t have, but I did,” he whispers.
“It’s beautiful.”
We watch in silence as the pattern slowly dissolves. When it’s all gone, Aydan looks at me, a small, satisfied smile stretching his too-red lips.
“Let’s do it, then,” he says. “You need to know how to control your powers. It’s—I don’t know how to explain it—liberating. It feels so right, like all the pieces falling into place.”
“Yeah? I don’t think I would know right if it bit me on the ass. It’s seems all I ever get is the broad side of wrong.”
“I had a head-on collision with wrong. So don’t expect me to feel sorry for you,” he says, using some of the spunk and banter from when I first met him. And, even though he used to drive me crazy with those snide comments, I smile, feeling a strange relief wash over me—like he’s comfortable with me, like it’s okay to be ourselves, like we can finally be friends.
I dare hope and wonder about his life, about all he’s been through. And, suddenly, I want to know everything, but I know it’s too soon, so I just keep hoping.