its flames, and there’s a part of me that’s tempted to stick my own hand through the shadowy copy of my brother. But then the fire starts to fade, quickly flaming out.
The twin is gone.
He looks at me with expectant eyes. “You like?”
“I’m horrified and amazed at the same time. How did you do that?”
“I learned.”
“But how? No one has done one in years. You didn’t make that when you were in the Leagues,” I say, as if I can point out the unimaginable in what he’s pulled off—old, dark elemental magic.
“Aria, we can do anything with our gifts if we focus, if we train them.”
“Did you learn this in prison?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone light, as if this is all in a day’s work for him.
“How, though?” I ask, and I want to clutch his shoulders, demand an answer for the incredible feat he’s pulled off. “How on earth do you do that? Did it take years? Did you work on this the whole time you were in there?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t take me long.”
“Then why doesn’t everyone make a fire twin? The Leagues have been dying for someone to make a fire twin since the last time a fire artist pulled it off a few years ago.”
“I have a theory on why I learned it quickly. Because when they make you stop, like in prison, I think the fire, or the water, or the air, or the earth—it builds up in you.” He grabs at his own chest for emphasis. “It builds inside you, and it’s like it’s all bubbling under the surface, and when you can’t let it out, it starts to turn into this. Some of us did this in our cells at night when the guards weren’t looking.”
I know a little something about fire building inside me. Would my fire turn to a duplicate me if I didn’t drown the extra in the canals?
“And you’re going to perform like that?”
“Yeah. I can make beasts too. Lizards, snakes, and all sorts of horned creatures,” he says. Those aren’t as rare—but audiences don’t tend to care for my snakes very much. Though some audiences might. “I think there’s a certain segment of society that would be pretty game to see the other side of the gifts.”
I grab his arm as a new worry punches my chest. “Xavi, I don’t want you to perform here. You might be tempted again.”
“To burn more cars?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah,” I say as if the answer is obvious. Because it is. “And I don’t want you to be tempted. I don’t want you to be sent away. I want you to be safe.”
“I won’t let it get out of control again,” he says, his voice reassuring, but only because I want to be reassured, I want to believe. Because we’re the same. We’ve both broken laws, we’ve both abused the elements, and the only difference between the two criminals standing in this abandoned insane asylum right now is who’s been caught.
And because we’re both outlaws, I ask him the nextquestion, knowing he’ll say yes. “I need to know how you do it. Can you teach me?”
“You want to know?” he says in a rough voice that’s part protective and part willing. He’s the older brother looking out for me, but he’s also the guy who can’t resist the dark side.
“Yes,” I say firmly. This is my ticket out of here.
“You really want to know how?” Xavier asks again.
“Yes.”
He takes a step closer, places his palms on my shoulders. The muscles on his arms are corded and strong. “Ar, I can tell you, but you won’t like it.”
“It can’t be any worse than anything else,” I say, thinking of the smell of my own skin burning in the garage a few nights ago.
“It can be.”
“Tell me. Please tell me.”
“Ar, you want to know why they don’t teach you how to do this? Why no one in the Leagues or the circuit or anywhere is teaching this?”
Xavier is a chemistry professor, in a darkened classroom, teaching his morbidly curious student how to mix elements in a most unnatural way. Making sure the student is ready, making sure the pupil can
The twin is gone.
He looks at me with expectant eyes. “You like?”
“I’m horrified and amazed at the same time. How did you do that?”
“I learned.”
“But how? No one has done one in years. You didn’t make that when you were in the Leagues,” I say, as if I can point out the unimaginable in what he’s pulled off—old, dark elemental magic.
“Aria, we can do anything with our gifts if we focus, if we train them.”
“Did you learn this in prison?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone light, as if this is all in a day’s work for him.
“How, though?” I ask, and I want to clutch his shoulders, demand an answer for the incredible feat he’s pulled off. “How on earth do you do that? Did it take years? Did you work on this the whole time you were in there?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t take me long.”
“Then why doesn’t everyone make a fire twin? The Leagues have been dying for someone to make a fire twin since the last time a fire artist pulled it off a few years ago.”
“I have a theory on why I learned it quickly. Because when they make you stop, like in prison, I think the fire, or the water, or the air, or the earth—it builds up in you.” He grabs at his own chest for emphasis. “It builds inside you, and it’s like it’s all bubbling under the surface, and when you can’t let it out, it starts to turn into this. Some of us did this in our cells at night when the guards weren’t looking.”
I know a little something about fire building inside me. Would my fire turn to a duplicate me if I didn’t drown the extra in the canals?
“And you’re going to perform like that?”
“Yeah. I can make beasts too. Lizards, snakes, and all sorts of horned creatures,” he says. Those aren’t as rare—but audiences don’t tend to care for my snakes very much. Though some audiences might. “I think there’s a certain segment of society that would be pretty game to see the other side of the gifts.”
I grab his arm as a new worry punches my chest. “Xavi, I don’t want you to perform here. You might be tempted again.”
“To burn more cars?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah,” I say as if the answer is obvious. Because it is. “And I don’t want you to be tempted. I don’t want you to be sent away. I want you to be safe.”
“I won’t let it get out of control again,” he says, his voice reassuring, but only because I want to be reassured, I want to believe. Because we’re the same. We’ve both broken laws, we’ve both abused the elements, and the only difference between the two criminals standing in this abandoned insane asylum right now is who’s been caught.
And because we’re both outlaws, I ask him the nextquestion, knowing he’ll say yes. “I need to know how you do it. Can you teach me?”
“You want to know?” he says in a rough voice that’s part protective and part willing. He’s the older brother looking out for me, but he’s also the guy who can’t resist the dark side.
“Yes,” I say firmly. This is my ticket out of here.
“You really want to know how?” Xavier asks again.
“Yes.”
He takes a step closer, places his palms on my shoulders. The muscles on his arms are corded and strong. “Ar, I can tell you, but you won’t like it.”
“It can’t be any worse than anything else,” I say, thinking of the smell of my own skin burning in the garage a few nights ago.
“It can be.”
“Tell me. Please tell me.”
“Ar, you want to know why they don’t teach you how to do this? Why no one in the Leagues or the circuit or anywhere is teaching this?”
Xavier is a chemistry professor, in a darkened classroom, teaching his morbidly curious student how to mix elements in a most unnatural way. Making sure the student is ready, making sure the pupil can
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