Fractured Light (3 page)

I glanced at the wide, circular florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. I could end this fight, but should I? A teacher fell to the ground and screamed.

There was only one way to end this brawl quickly. I stared at the lights and thought hard. It was a lot to manipulate, but I felt confident I could do it. Turning lights on and off was the only part of my abilities I could reliably control.

I concentrated on the bright lights until I felt Light’s energy surge through me, turning my insides hot. Sweat broke on my forehead and my knees went weak. Suddenly a burst of energy exploded from me like juice squeezed from a lemon. Then there was darkness.

W
HEN
I
WAS A CHILD, MY MOTHER WOULD TELL ME A BEDTIME
story. At first I loved the dramatic tale, but after hearing it night after night, I grew bored. I often asked for a different one, a book even, like other children, but she always insisted on telling our Auran history. Sometimes she would introduce new characters or change the scenery, but the plot remained the same:

“Once upon a time, thousands of years ago, Light lived among man as intelligent beings. Their presence brought equality and harmony to the humans, and the world was at peace. There was no sadness, pity, or pride; it seemed the righteousness of the people had banned evil from the earth. But when an older prince became jealous of his father’s love for his younger brother, he murdered the young prince in cold blood.

“This deliberate evil brought the once-forbidden darkness to the prince’s heart where he allowed it to remain. There he entertained it, fed it, until the darkness overtook his thoughts and mind. Eager to corrupt others, he spread the darkness to those whose minds were open to greed, power, and lust. These new dark ones, Vykens as they were called, were unable to stand in Light’s presence without feeling unbearable pain. Hidden within the shadows of night, the Vykens hunted and attacked the Light-filled beings at their weakest moments, almost to the point of extinction.

“To preserve themselves and maintain balance between good and evil, Light hid within the DNA of human females. These women passed Light on to their female offspring and became known as Auras. Auras protected their identity for many years, and even learned to use Light’s power to fight against the Vykens. But then the Vykens made a terrible discovery. They found that if they drank the blood of an Aura, they were no longer bound to the night. Not only did the sun no longer pose a threat, but the Vykens learned they could manipulate the Auras’ power, and they used it to grow stronger than ever before.

“For this reason, Auras gathered from all over the earth to learn how to protect their human form. They created a council to oversee their safety, and to ensure Auras appeared no different than others.”

I’d heard this story so many times that when my mother reached this point, I was usually asleep. I never knew why she had insisted on telling me the same story over and over until I had it memorized. Even my father had asked her once, “Can’t you tell her a different story, Ella?”

“No,” my mother answered. “Llona needs to know Light’s history. The truth.”

“She will know the truth because she has us.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Their hope had been in vain.

*     *     *     *     *

Cries rose in the darkness, but they were no longer the angry voices of a mob; they were cries of surprise. The doors on both sides of the gym opened, spilling light from the hallways into the blackened gym and onto the basketball court. This time when a teacher yelled to exit, students listened.

“Was that insane or what?” May asked.

I didn’t answer. Mentally shutting the lights off had weakened my body.

May touched me in the darkness. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

Students on our bench stood up to leave. “Let’s get out of here,” May said.

She followed the Stoners out, but I remained still, allowing some time for my strength to return. A tall male form stepped up the bleachers. He looked like a muscular shadow, floating gracefully toward me. His movements seemed so fluid I was surprised to hear the bleachers shake from the weight of his footsteps.

“Are you all right?” a voice in a heavy English accent asked. Suddenly my weakness returned tenfold. Apparently I had a thing for men with accents.

He touched me on the shoulder when I didn’t immediately respond. “Do you want help down?”

I shook my head, unable to speak, but I did manage to stand. Just barely.

“Can you see okay in the dark?” he asked beautifully and perfectly.

“I think so.”

“Good.”

I followed him down the bleachers as if walking a tight rope. When we entered the crowded hallway, the man, probably a teacher, turned from me and disappeared into a sea of students. I never saw his face, but judging from the back of him, I knew he had to have a nice one.

After a few deep breaths, I turned the opposite way and slowly headed toward my locker. Like always, I kept my head down and followed the steadily moving line of students. All of a sudden, for a reason I couldn’t explain, I glanced up. Standing against a row of lockers was the same boy who had saved me earlier. My SEAL. He stared at me with a confused expression, probably just noticing how strange I look.

I knew my appearance was different, shockingly so. My ghostly pale skin appeared to melt into my blonde, almost white hair, making my eyes stand out like the blue of an Arctic wolf’s. The only half-compliment I’d ever received (other than from my parents) was from one of Jake’s friends. He said I was really pretty, in a freakish, Tim Burton sort of way. I guess there are worse things than being compared to a ghoul, but I couldn’t think of one.

Just then his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down. What was that all about? I’d done nothing to him. I quickly looked away, but when I thought I’d walked far enough past him, I turned back around. The boy still stared, appalled, like I’d killed his dog or something. Was it possible that he could’ve known what I’d done back in the gym? I thought about it the whole way to my next class and well into Mrs. Simmons’ lecture on Shakespeare. Impossible. No one could have known. He must be mad for some other reason; maybe he was upset I’d fallen into him. I shrugged it off. Oh well. One more person who thinks I’m mentally deranged.

Mrs. Simmons, who always wore too tight of clothing for her bulging frame, said, “Shakespeare wrote, ‘So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.’ Can anyone tell me what you think he was trying to say?”

For the third time in my school career, I raised my hand. I couldn’t help it. This was one of my favorite quotes.

“Yes, Llona?” The whole class turned and looked at me.

“It means you can’t find light in darkness, and if you keep! looking for it, you’ll lose your soul.”

Erica, a popular girl, maybe even a cheerleader—I couldn’t remember—laughed “Are you for real?” Her nostrils flared, contorting her pretty face.

A couple of students snickered.

“That’s a good question, Erica,” the teacher said.

I looked up, shocked the teacher had sided with an obviously rude student.

“Is Llona’s answer real?” the teacher asked. “Do you think it’s possible that if a person goes to, let’s say a party where there are drugs, with no intention of ever using, inevitably their actions will ruin them? They’re not going to partake of the drugs, just go and have fun with friends. Is there anything wrong with that?”

The room was silent. I could practically here the grinding sounds of a faulty engine as their brains searched for an answer. Finally the silence broke when another kid I didn’t recognize raised his hand.

“I think her answer is real and happens all too often. Though a person’s intentions seem good in the beginning, if they allow themselves to be a part of an environment that obviously ruins lives, they will first endure it, then pity the people involved, and eventually embrace the lifestyle themselves.”

“Exactly. Thank you, Matt,” Mrs. Simmons said. “I see you know Alexander Pope’s work. I agree entirely.”

Matt bowed his head as if a subject to a King in an English court. His long fingers swept sandy blond hair behind his ears. He looked to be a little taller than me and skinny, not gross skinny, but lean and muscular—the body of a runner.

After the bell rang, I gathered my stuff and moved to stand up. I practically ran into Matt, who was suddenly standing directly in front of me.

“I like what you said about Shakespeare,” he said. “Not many people understand what he’s all about.”

“I’m not sure I do either. He’s the master of cryptic.”

Matt laughed. “Very true.”

I stepped to the side of him and threw my bag over my shoulder. Matt moved to block me. “Listen, I’m trying to get a group together to study the writings of the great ones, sort of like a book club. You interested?”

I shuddered, and I think I grimaced. Not because Matt bothered me, but because I’d never done anything like that before: read literature in a small group. It sounded so intimate.

Matt noticed my reaction. “It’s okay if you can’t. I was just asking.” He turned around and walked away.

The Light within me leapt, wanting to go after him to apologize. It was not in Light’s nature to be deliberately cruel, and I felt it course through me now, anxious to relieve any sadness I may have caused him. But I kept my feet firmly planted and closed my eyes. Survival first. It was my mother that would’ve gone after him. Of course she wouldn’t have had such a violent reaction to begin with. She loved being with others in any setting and they loved her in return. Then she was murdered.

I finally moved when the teacher asked me if I needed something. I shook my head and left the room.

Trig class was next. Earlier that morning, I’d overheard a few girls talking about the new math teacher, a
Mr. Steele
. By the way they were talking him up, I was anxious to confirm the hype.

At my locker I replaced my English book with my math book, and then quickly zipped up my backpack. Most students didn’t take their bags to every class, but there was something comforting about having it on my back. Without it I felt naked.

The bell rang just as I closed my locker. Shoot! I was late. I speed-walked down the almost empty hallway to where I thought room 204 was. After a couple of left turns, I finally found the classroom at the end of the hall. Before I turned the handle, I took a deep breath and mentally prepared to be the center of attention. I pulled open the door, and like I expected, heads turned my direction. I hurried to the nearest vacant desk at the back of the room.

“Try to be on time, please,” the teacher said, in a familiar English accent. The man from the gym!

“As I was saying …” Mr. Steele continued to speak. His mouth moved up and down, but I couldn’t hear a word. From the corner of my eye, I saw pages turn as students responded to whatever he was saying, but I was frozen. Literally unable to move or think.

He was the most gorgeous, perfect man I’d ever seen. His thick, short hair was blacker than a moonless night, and his full, arched eyebrows hung above deep-set green eyes, shading them as if they were treasured emeralds. He was tall, almost towering, or maybe it was his overpowering presence that made him seem so. He wore a black silk shirt tucked into gray trousers and whenever he moved, disrupting the air around him, the thin material pressed against his stomach, revealing a tight six-pack of bulging muscles.

As far as I was concerned, this man had only one flaw: he was my math teacher. Mr. Steele. His name couldn’t have been more perfect, like a shiny metal gun sculpted for my hand. I shivered and continued to stare.

He looked to be in his midtwenties, making him only seven or so years older than me. Society would definitely frown upon any type of relationship between us—as if that were a possibility. I shook my head. At least I think I shook it. I couldn’t believe I was having these thoughts about a teacher.

I sighed and continued to watch his mouth open and close as he explained some complex math problem. Occasionally his eyes met mine and when they did, my cheeks grew hot and my breathing quickened. I swallowed hard. This must be love at first sight. I always thought it would happen when I was older and with a guy more my age, but I guess love has no age restrictions. Too bad my infatuation is for an off-limits man. I sighed again.