The Holders (3 page)

I closed my eyes and took another deep breath, determined to find something else to think about, preferably something that would encourage sleep, not keep me from it. I pictured the magnificent vision I’d seen in this very room earlier today: the lush green grass, the clear open sky, the rolling ocean and pounding waves… and a pair of light blue-gray eyes and blonde hair. Alex. That was a nice name… Alex.

 

4

 

At 8 o’clock Friday evening, Ryland and I kissed Mom goodbye for about the thirtieth time, assured her once again that we’d call every day, and that we’d be good, and countless other things we’d been assuring her for the last three days, grabbed our carry-ons, and boarded our flight to Ireland. Or, more specifically, boarded our flight to Paris, France, at which point we would board a second plane to Dublin, Ireland, after which it was a two and a half hour drive to St Brigid’s. Grand total travel time: only seventeen and a half hours.

Yeah… only.

Though I can admit, the first few hours of the flight went by quickly enough. I read the book and two magazines I’d brought, ate dinner, and played a few rounds of travel Scrabble with Ryland. It wasn’t until about five hours in – what would have been midnight in Pittsburgh – and barely over halfway to Paris, that I realized just how long a trip this was going to be.

I tried to sleep, but it was no use. I was the sort of person who had to be comfortable to fall asleep, and comfort just wasn’t happening. Not that I could complain about our seats. We had actually been very lucky as the flight wasn’t anywhere near full, which meant that after takeoff we were all able to spread out. I had a two-seat row to myself, Ry had the row behind me, and Alex and Taron had the five-seat row next to us to share between them. Despite the space however, I couldn’t settle. I tried lying down, reclining my chair, leaning against the wall of the plane, crossing my arms on the tray table, and countless other configurations; nothing was comfortable for longer than a few minutes at a time. The tiny airplane pillow that was lumpy on one side and totally flat on the other wasn’t helping things either. Too bad I wasn’t more like Ryland who was sprawled out on his back, covering both seats in his row, one leg up in the air resting on the wall of the plane while his head hung off the base of the seat, dangling in what would normally be leg space. Honestly, a little turbulence and he’d be on the floor, but at least he was sleeping, which was more than I could say of myself.

I stared absent-mindedly at the map of the Atlantic Ocean and the little cartoon plane that was supposed to represent us on the TV screen in front of me. There was a red line trailing behind the little plane showing the route and distance we’d traveled so far, and a green line in front of the plane showing the route and distance yet to go. Ryland had gotten a kick out of this and kept measuring the lengths of the two lines with his fingers as if to prove to himself that the plane was in fact moving.

Too bad I wasn’t so easily amused. I didn’t want to read anymore, wasn’t interested in any of the movies that were playing, and couldn’t very well play travel games by myself, which meant there was nothing but five hours and thirty two minutes of long, empty space in front of me. All day I’d had activities and people to occupy my mind, but now, with everyone sleeping and nothing else going on, my thoughts kept drifting to the one subject I’d been consciously trying to avoid all day.

Alex.

After two days of sideways glances and daydreaming, I finally had to admit that I had a fairly substantial crush on this guy, and I was not about to become one of those girls who got all goofy and obsessive about a guy they barely knew. I was terrified that if I didn’t get this under control I’d end up like a character on one of those terrible reality shows that basically have no plot at all besides who’s crushing on who, who’s sleeping with who, who’s cheating on who, and so on. The day that became me, would be the day I checked into a nunnery.

Yet, diligent as I tried to be, there wasn’t an hour that had gone by since leaving the house this morning that I hadn’t caught myself staring at him, or thinking about him, or wondering what his middle name was.

I sat up with a groan, turned on my reading light, and took the copy of SkyMall out of the seatback pocket in front of me. If anything could distract me for a while, it was SkyMall, where you could find just about anything you could possibly want, from the perfectly practical to the unbelievably ridiculous. I was reading the description of the Portable Boot and Shoe Dryer, when someone walked up to the end of my row.

“Can’t sleep?”

I looked to my right and saw a man with slightly rumpled honey-blond hair, wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt grinning down at me. It was Alex. I smiled, suddenly feeling warm and jittery inside. “No, my pillow sucks. You?” I asked, keeping my voice down so as not to disturb the rest of the passengers whose pillows seemed to work better than mine. I closed the SkyMall, and shifted in my seat to face him.

“I was, I just woke up,” he said, sitting down in the empty seat next to me. “Trick is to bring your own pillow.”

“Woke up? Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“Maybe for you, but for those of us who run on Ireland time, it’s about six in the morning.”

“Oh, right. Still, too early for me.”

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, which was odd considering how much time I’d spent thinking about him since we had last spoken. Moreover, it made me realize how stupid I was being, letting this “crush” thing go to my head.

I decided I needed to change my game plan. I couldn’t just decide not to have a crush on him, as I didn’t really decide to have a crush on him in the first place. However, what I could do was treat him just like I would any other guy. I would be his friend, figuring that the sooner I had friendly feelings for him, the sooner the other feelings – whatever they were – would go away.

Armed with this new attitude, I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m glad you came over. I was starting to think you were going to bail on your end of the deal.”

“Sorry,” he said as his eyebrows furrowed a bit, “I’ve just been… it’s not that I didn’t want…” He paused and rubbed his hands over his face.

“If you’re tired we don’t have to do this now,” I offered.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m not tired, it’s just been… a weird few days,” he finished with a smile that was somewhere between wry and sad.

He didn’t explain, and I didn’t ask, assuming if he wanted me to know he would have said. Besides, that wasn’t what I was most interested in knowing right now anyway.

“So,” I said.

“So?”

I turned and crossed my legs on top of the seat, propped my right elbow on my knee, rested my chin in my hand, stared directly at him and smiled, in a somewhat blatant ’I’m listening, so start talking‘ gesture. He chuckled – which was good, as that was the point – and turned in his seat, bringing one knee up under himself so he could fully face me.

“All right,” he said, looking thoughtful, “where to start?”

“The beginning is usually best.”

“Yes, but somehow I get the feeling that if I started by saying ‘In the beginning’, you’d laugh at me.”

He was teasing me. I liked it. “Yeah, probably,” I said smiling.

“So what then?” he asked with a smirk. “Once upon a time?”

“Mmm…” I pretended to ponder. “What else you got?”

“A long time ago, in a galaxy–”

“Yeah, OK,” I giggled, rolling my eyes, trying to remember to keep my voice down, “how about we stick to ‘A long time ago’.”

“All right then,” he said clearing his throat, “a long time ago, thousands of years ago actually, there was a race of people living in Ireland called Cumhacht Coinnigh or Power Holders. They were like regular humans in every way except that they each had what they called a beannú an bandia, a ‘blessing of the Goddess’. This ‘blessing’ was actually a special power or ability. Some Holders could read and control the thoughts of others, some could heal the injured or sick, some,” he gestured to himself, “could conjure false images, while others could change their appearance right before your eyes. There were people who could make charms and spells, some who could read and measure the powers of others, and a few who could actually walk in the future. There were all sorts of powers that people had back in those days, some that we aren’t even aware of as their lines have died out completely.”

“Lines?”

“Abilities are, well, for lack of a better word, genetic. Holders have the same ability that their ancestors had. Ryland will read minds because that is what Jocelyn does, just like I can cast because that’s the power someone had back down the line in my family.”

“What about me? Jocelyn’s my father, why don’t I do anything?”

“Well, first off you’re a girl. Abilities in women have always been few and far between. Even in the ancient times Holders were almost always men.”

“Why?” I know it was stupid to be offended by something no one had any control over, but I kind of was.

He smiled at my tone. “We don’t know; that’s just the way it’s always been. Now that’s not to say it never happens, but even when it does, the women are never as powerful as the men. Sorry, wasn’t my call,” he said, with a grin. “But it’s not just gender; inheriting an ability is never a sure thing. Just because a man is a Holder, that doesn’t mean that all his kids will inherit the trait, just like all his kids may not inherit his hair color.”

He paused, giving me a minute to collect my thoughts before going on, though oddly enough I didn’t really need to. Just like during our first conversation in my room I was amazed at how normal all this sounded. I wasn’t weirded out, or scared, or… anything. Ironically enough, my lack of fear was actually starting to scare me a little bit. But before I could think too much about that, something else crossed my mind. “Wait, you said that someone else had been a Holder ‘back down the line’ in your family. Wouldn’t it have been your father?”

“Well, no, not necessarily. It doesn’t always work that way anymore. In the beginning, all the Holders were in Ireland, kept contained by the limits of the island itself. However, over time, they began to slowly spread out, traveling to new lands and settling all over the world. As they started to build lives elsewhere and have families with people of other nations, the race began to slowly die out. Nowadays, most of the people who are ‘Holders’,” he made air quotes, “have an ability that is so washed out and diluted that they aren’t even aware they have it. Someone who long ago would have had the ability to control minds is now no more than a person who seems to always be able to talk their way out of trouble. Someone who should have the ability to heal is now only a particularly gifted doctor. But every now and again the Holder trait will flare for some reason, and someone will end up with a power as strong as his ancestors would have had.”

“Like you?”

“Like me,” he said. “And Ryland, and Taron, as well as others you’ll meet at St Brigid’s.”

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it again, lost in thought.

“Are you all right?” Alex asked after a minute or two of silence, a worried look in his eyes. “Because we can stop for now if you want.”

“No, I’m fine… actually that’s what’s weird. I shouldn’t be fine. Why am I fine?” I asked foolishly, as if he should have an answer.

“Actually I’ve been trying to figure that one out myself. But I suppose if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because it’s in your blood. You did graduate two years early.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Those in a Holder line are usually advanced or gifted in one aspect or another. Maybe your intelligence and ability to learn quickly is due to a little bit of Holder in your blood.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Makes sense, and I’ve seen it before.”

“So, that’s why you said my graduating early was interesting?”

He nodded.

“Well that’s just… lame! Ryland gets to read minds, and that’s all I get?”

“Better than nothing,” he said, trying not to laugh. “And who knows, maybe somewhere deep down you’ve always known that Ryland was different in some special way. That you both were.”

I had always known, about Ryland anyway. People had been trying for years to convince me that Ryland was crazy but somehow I’ve always known that couldn’t be true. Maybe Alex was right. Maybe it was in my blood.

“So how about Captain Fun-Times over there? What’s he do?” I asked, scowling across the aisle at the sleeping figure of Taron.

Alex laughed quietly. “The thing you have to understand about Taron is that he is very passionate about our cause and about Holderkind in general. It can sometimes make him seem…”

“Like an ass?” I suggested.

“Something like that,” he chuckled, “but don’t worry, it’s not you.”

“Sure seems like it is.”

“I know, but he means well. He has been with Jocelyn longer than any of us, and his ability has been very helpful over the years. It’s called Discerning, meaning he is basically a human lie detector. He can tell instinctively if someone is telling the truth, or lying, or if their words or actions have been compelled by mind control.”

“Yeah, well helpful or not, I don’t trust him.”

“Give it time,” Alex smiled.

Happy to change the subject I asked, “So, are you all are born with this? Does that mean there are super babies running around?”

“Yes and no. Yes, we are born this way, but no,” he smiles as though he is genuinely amused by my stupid comments, “there are no super babies. Once a Holder reaches adulthood, which is usually somewhere between fourteen and sixteen, they have what we call an Awakening, at which point their ability becomes active. Before that, they are almost entirely normal, except for the occasional glimpse of the ability they will one day have. For instance, when I was younger I would sometimes see things that weren’t really there.”

“And Ryland hears voices,” I said, talking more to myself than to him. “Voices that are actually thoughts.”

He smiled, seeming happy that I understood. “Exactly. Though, I will tell you that his case is somewhat extreme. Normally we wouldn’t expect someone so young to hear any more than the occasional whisper or impression. The fact that he is hearing full sentences is sort of a big deal.”