Wild-born (12 page)

A drop of blood hit the floor, and Cindy stared at me, horrorstruck. “You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing,” I told her. “It’s not deep. I just need a Band-Aid.”

I didn’t care about my thumb. Something else was much more wrong. Why couldn’t I recover my strength after dropping the knife? I wasn’t touching metal anymore, was I?

“You need to wipe the blood off,” said Cindy.

She grabbed my arm and dragged me to the sink, where she showered the blood off of my hands. I instantly felt better, my head clear again, but the pain from the cut came back to me in full force. Cindy popped out of the kitchen for a moment and returned with a small first-aid kit. Opening it, she pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and a box of Band-Aids.

“You have to be careful about bleeding, Adrian,” she said, cleaning my cut. “You know that there is iron in your blood, right? It doesn’t drain you because it’s inside your body. But if you start bleeding, the iron coming out of your body will drain you, like it did just now.”

“I had a nosebleed once, a few weeks ago,” I said, remembering Cat and her frying pan, “and it didn’t affect me very much.”

“Well, that was weeks ago, right? Your power has grown since then, and your body has become more sensitive to draining. A little blood is usually not as bad as touching a bigger piece of metal, but, well, you know how it feels now.”

I wrapped the Band-Aid around my thumb as Cindy picked up the kitchen knife, holding it delicately by the blade to examine the metal bolts in the handle. Looking closer at the blade’s edge, I noticed that it had only the slightest trace of my blood on it. The knife must have been razor-sharp, and I was lucky that I hadn’t cut my thumb off. Cindy was a serious cook.

“I have knives with plastic handles too, but please be careful with them,” said Cindy as she deftly flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the handle.

“Cindy, why does the metal affect me like this?” I asked.

“Oh, it affects all of us in the same way, though to different degrees,” said Cindy. “I’m actually very sensitive to metals. Even a little contact can drain me completely.”

“But you don’t...”

“Fall down when I touch it?” Cindy smiled. “That’s because I have my power properly balanced.”

“And what does that mean?” I asked, irritated at how easy Cindy looked holding the knife in her hand. I also remembered how Ralph didn’t seem to have any trouble handling the chain that he put around my neck.

“It means I know how to keep my power from taking over my physical body,” said Cindy.

My continued lack of understanding must have shown on my face because Cindy crouched down in front of me and said slowly in a concerned voice, “Adrian, I want you to listen to me very closely now, because this is important. I’m not worried about the metal draining your psionic power, as long as it’s just that, and not your whole body. You are being physically overrun by your power. This can happen to people when their power comes too early or too suddenly, which in your case is both, and they haven’t had time to learn how to separate it. If you don’t learn balance, you will lose yourself in your power.”

“Lose myself?” I asked.

“Your power has already started to support your bodily functions. You’ve let your body rely on your power too much. That’s why you get dizzy when your power is drained. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

Cindy continued, “Once you learn how to balance your power and keep it from supporting or replacing your physical strength, you’ll be able to freely touch any metal without feeling dizzy or tired, even if you can’t fly or telekinetically knock things over.”

I thought back to the berserker attacks. If I hadn’t been physically and emotionally drained by touching metal, I might have seriously hurt or killed Cat even without my power. And what about Ralph? Could I have escaped him without draining my emotions on the pen tip? I realized that I might not be alive now if I didn’t have this weakness. Still, Cindy had a point: I couldn’t go on feeling faint every time I touched a piece of metal, especially if there was metal in my own blood. I was lucky not to have been injured until now.

“And you can teach me how to balance my power?” I asked.

“Even Alia could probably teach you a thing or two,” Cindy said with a chuckle, and I scowled at her.

I decided to shift the topic, asking, “Can you also learn to resist metal? I mean, so that your power doesn’t get drained at all?”

“As far as I know, that is impossible.”

“And what if I can’t learn to separate my power from my body?” I asked, needing to hear the worst.

Cindy looked at me for a moment, perhaps contemplating how, or how much, to tell me, before answering, “Well, the sad truth is that some people never learn balance, and their bodies slowly decay. Like a degenerative disease, your muscles will deteriorate and you will age faster. It can turn into a vicious cycle, with your body needing more and more support from your powers as your muscles and organs get weaker. And if you were drained in that condition...”

“I could die,” I said quietly.

“Yes, Adrian. You could.”

Finally, I understood. Cindy was right: I definitely needed to learn how to separate my psionic power from my body.

“So, how do I learn to balance it?”

“All in good time,” said Cindy, passing me the plastic bowl and a large wooden spoon. “For now, mix.”

Alia came down by herself as we were about to set the table. She looked a bit groggy, and didn’t make as much fuss about me as she did earlier. However, she still kept her distance, preferring to cling to Cindy’s leg or nervously study me from behind a chair.

Once the table was set, complete with plastic forks and knives, Cindy sat on one side with Alia next to her, and I sat across from Cindy. Dinner was a bit of a comical affair, with Alia speaking telepathically to Cindy, who, of course, replied out loud.

“Adrian,” said Cindy.

“Yes?” I asked, looking up from my plate.

“No, not you,” said Cindy. “I’m teaching Alia your name again.” She turned to Alia, saying, “It’s Adrian. Try saying it out loud, honey.”

Alia refused to try until Cindy had asked five more times. I could tell that Cindy was quite used to Alia’s refusal to speak aloud.

“Adrian, honey,” Cindy repeated to her patiently. “Just try.”

Alia finally uttered hoarsely, “A-en.”

“Adrian?” Cindy said again.

“Me?” I asked.

“Yeah, you. Would it be okay if she called you Addy? I think Adrian might be a bit hard for her.”

“Practice makes perfect?” I asked hopefully.

“Adrian! Addy is your nickname, isn’t it?”

“It’s not my nickname, Cindy,” I said. “It’s my
baby
name.”

Cindy grinned. “I still like Addy better.”

Alia glanced at me once and then turned to Cindy, who laughed loudly. “She says she likes Addy better too.”

I groaned, but Cindy looked pleadingly at me.

“Okay, okay,” I sighed. “She can call me whatever she wants.”

“Great!” Cindy smiled broadly and chirped, “Addy and Ali! That sounds like quite a pair, don’t you think?”

“Cindy?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Yes, Addy?”

“You call me Adrian, please.”

“As you wish, Addy.”

I made a face, and Cindy giggled. For the first time, I saw a slight hint of a smile on Alia’s lips too.

After dinner, the three of us sat together in the living room where Cindy read a fairytale to Alia. Although Alia still preferred to sit as close to Cindy as possible without occupying the same space, at least she no longer jumped whenever I moved. Cindy seemed relieved that the ice had broken a bit before her day shift started, but I still felt very uncomfortable about the prospect of being left in the house with Alia.

Cindy put Alia to bed at around nine. Then, asking me to remain silent while she worked her power, Cindy sat down cross-legged on the living-room floor, closing her eyes in quiet concentration. I couldn’t feel anything different, but nearly half an hour later, Cindy opened her eyes and stood up.

“That’ll hold for a while,” said Cindy. “Still, I’d prefer it if you didn’t go out... just yet. You are still officially missing, and if you’re found by the police, you’ll be taken away from my protection.”

I asked hesitantly, “Cindy, um, how long does ‘just yet’ last?”

Cindy looked at me for a moment, and then threw her hands into the air, saying, “Alright! I lied. You can’t go out at all, Adrian. Ever. As long as you’re staying with me, you’re trapped in this house, just like Alia. If people see you, they’ll ask questions. If they ask questions, you’ll be found.”

It took a moment before I felt the full weight of her words. At the same time, I was, and wasn’t, a prisoner here. I could leave Cindy’s protection whenever I wanted to, but then I would risk being caught or killed. That Cindy’s hiding bubble covered the whole neighborhood made no difference at all. I would be safe only as long as I stayed inside her house. I felt like I was back in the hospital after my accident. I had to force myself hard to consider that my situation was still better than it had been yesterday.

“So Alia has been here... how long?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to know.

Cindy’s eyes met mine for an instant, and then she looked away. She took a deep breath and answered, “Three years.”

“Three years?!”

“There was no other way, Adrian! You’ve seen what she’s like. I’ve been taking care of her here ever since I brought her back from the...” Cindy’s voice trailed off.

“Back from where?” I asked.

Cindy looked at me, her eyes starting to swim with tears.

“Back from where, Cindy?”

“From the forest,” she whispered, her voice quivering slightly. “From the forest, Adrian.”

“Tell me about her, Cindy. Please. Tell me her story.”

“Well, I guess you ought to know,” said Cindy, wiping her eyes. “You see, most people don’t turn psionic until they are adults, or at least very close to adults. Sometimes, they don’t gain their true power until they’re really old. Babies and very small children can have a touch of ESP, but that’s not real power. You, Adrian, are a rarity. I called you ‘little destroyer’ in the car because it’s almost unheard of for someone your age to be able to do what you can do. But Alia...”

“She had her power from birth?” I guessed.

“That’s right,” said Cindy. “She was probably a full telepath from the day she was born. She didn’t know that people communicate using their mouths. Her parents thought she was a mute—until she started talking directly into their minds. Her parents...” Cindy paused, sighing deeply once before saying, “They were religious fanatics. You know the kind... the devil this, the devil that.”

I didn’t exactly, but nodded anyway.

Cindy continued, “They thought Alia was possessed. They must have tried to exorcise her many times. And they beat her, and cut her. They poured boiling water down her throat. They tortured her, Adrian. They tried to torture the devil out of her. When she was four years old, they finally decided that they couldn’t save her soul, so they took her into the mountains, tied her to a tree and left her to die.”

Cindy stopped talking for a moment and closed her eyes. I stared at her, horrified and speechless, and Cindy resumed her story.

“Alia had somehow broken free of the rope tying her to the tree,” explained Cindy, her eyes still shut. “Days later, I found her wandering through the forest, half-dead, naked, with a piece of rope tied around her ankle. Her whole body was covered in mud and leeches.”

Cindy slowly opened her eyes and wiped them with her fingers. “I brought Alia home and nursed her back to health, but her physical injuries were nothing compared to how hurt she was on the inside. For the first year, Alia didn’t say a single word to me, even telepathically. She doesn’t trust people, Adrian. She doesn’t trust the world, and you can hardly blame her.”

I looked down at my hands, not knowing what to say.

“So now you understand,” I heard Cindy say softly, “why I said that your story wasn’t the worst I’ve ever heard.”

“Yes,” I answered dully. Thinking of what Alia must have gone through made me feel as drained as if I had been lying on a metal bed. Under the circumstances, I decided, if anyone deserved to live happily ever after, it was Alia.

“You’ll take care of her?” Cindy asked hopefully. “You’ll watch out for her?”

I nodded silently, and Cindy said, “Alia is a healer.”

I looked up. Cindy smiled a little and explained, “Telepathy isn’t such a big deal in terms of psionics, unless you’re a pair of devil-obsessed psychopaths, but healing is. Healers are rare, Adrian. Even rarer than controllers. Alia can close wounds and mend bones.”

I glanced at my Band-Aided left thumb.

Cindy nodded and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask her to take care of that during dinner, but I didn’t want to pressure her.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Cindy looked grimly at me, saying, “What do you think your pal Ralph would do if he learned that there was a healer here? What would any Angel or Guardian do? Despite her age, Alia’s power as a healer is already as refined as any adult’s, and I’m guessing she may become very, very powerful someday. What would happen, do you think, if the existence of a powerful healer became known among the psionic factions?”

It was a rhetorical question so I just blinked back at her, and Cindy said, “Please don’t get me wrong, Adrian. I wanted to help you too. I do want to help you. But I was also hoping you could help me as well, with Alia. You’re right. Three years is a long time. She’s getting older, and I know it’s wrong to keep her shut away in my house. But I’m afraid for her.”

“You don’t have anyone here to help you with her?” I asked. “Family? Or friends?”

Cindy shook her head. “Not at the moment. At least, no one I can really trust.”

“No husband or anything?”

“Oh, well, I was married for a while, but...” Cindy’s voice trailed off.

I felt awkward asking these personal questions, but I pressed her, saying, “Cindy, I told you my story. You told me Alia’s. What about yours?”

“I’ll tell you my story, Adrian. I promise I will. But can it at least wait till tomorrow? I’m still pretty tired, and you’ll be here in the morning, won’t you?”