I placed my palms up against the wall and leaned my forehead on the cool smooth surface.
“Without the Bonding spell, you would’ve accepted the Deaconry’s decision and been sent to Rest. She would’ve remained human and grown old, without you. Now she is a rare Reflector and—”
“And all for goddamn nothing,” I finished pushing away from the wall and facing her again.
“No.” Genevieve raised her voice, “She’s immortal now. In time, it will work out.”
“Time?” I scoffed. “Our time is over, Genevieve. Die, sent to Rest, exile, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Bullshit,” Genevieve cursed. “You fought for her. Don’t you dare give up now.”
“I’m about to die, Genevieve. Give me a fuckin’ break.”
Genevieve sighed and lowered her head. “I thought more of you, Balen. I believed in you. I guess I was wrong.”
Her gown swished and the mist rose as she faded from my marble cell. I slammed my fist into the floor. “Fuck!”
“GODDAMN IT, WOMAN. PICTURE it, for Christ’s sake. I have better things to do with my time.” Kilter leaned up against the tree.
“I am.”
“Typical woman. Can’t do shit.” Kilter scowled, shaking his head.
“Oh, screw off.” I picked up a rock and threw it at him. He ducked and it went over his head. I closed my eyes again and clenched my fists, my mouth scrunching together with concentration.
“You’re trying too hard.”
Relax. Concentrate. Picture. Feel.
But all I envisioned was Balen. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there in my mind with his sharp green eyes. I threw my hands in the air. “Forget it. I can’t do it.”
Kilter pushed away from the tree, the moonlight flickering in his dark eyes. “You’re right. You can’t.”
I sat in the snow.
Kilter approached and leaned over me. “Telekinesis requires focus, something you obviously lack. Give me your knife.”
Bastard.
Kilter held out his hand. “I know you don’t go anywhere without it.”
I pulled the knife from my back pocket and held it in my grasp, my fingers caressing the handle where Balen’s name was etched. Kilter yanked it from me and, before I could object, he sliced the sharp blade across the back of my hand.
I gasped, pulling back and holding my hand over the wound. “Psychotic dickhead. What the hell was that for?”
Kilter raised his hand with the knife and then flung it across the yard at full throttle. It sank deep into the middle of the trunk of a pine tree. “Because Waleron has made my life hell by forcing me to help you. I want to end the hell as soon as possible. Pain—that’s reality. Now you can concentrate on what we’re doing instead of some fantasy you’re stuck in.”
I looked at the blood dripping down my hand. It was a surface wound, but it still hurt.
Kilter waited patiently and, for once in his life, with no crass remark. I needed to do this. For Balen. For myself. For us.
“I just want it known that I don’t like you.”
“Ditto,” Kilter said. “Now, get the knife out of the tree, so I can get out of this fuckin’ cold.”
After four days of putting up with his thoughtless remarks, I’d grown a thick skin when it came to his insensitivity. Crude, controlling, dominant, and downright rude, Kilter had put himself on my shit list. However, he knew how to push me to get things done, and learning how to deal with my new abilities was tough and sometimes frustrating as hell. Getting Balen off my mind was unlikely and Kilter knew it.
It pissed me off that this guy knew how to get through to me. He was the only one who managed to get me out of bed and stop wallowing in self-pity. He’d been the one to get me to face reality. He made me fight back.
In an odd sort of sadistic way, Kilter had saved my sorry ass from self-destruction. I hadn’t needed kindness and soft words and hugs and tears. I needed cruel, hard words and that was Kilter’s specialty.
I focused on the knife stuck in the trunk of the tree. The cold winter breeze drifted through my hair but I hardly felt it. The wound on my hand throbbed a dull aching pain, reminding me this was real. This was now, and if it was the last thing I’d do, that damn knife was going to move.
He told me to make my imagination reality. Anything was possible, especially if you were a Scar. And that meant Balen could come back to me. Maybe if I worked hard enough, perfected my skills, then I could do something to help him.
“Stop fuckin’ thinking about him and concentrate,” Kilter growled.
I scrunched my nose up at him. The guy had no qualms about reading anyone’s mind, and I couldn’t wait until I was able to block him.
I focused. The knife moved. It jiggled. I saw it happening. I pushed harder until I was sweating under my thick winter coat. I could do this. It would happen if I let it.
The knife jolted then fell to the ground, its steel blade glittering on the hard-packed layers of snow.
“That was half assed,” Kilter said, but there was a hint of a smile. “Enough for today. Tomorrow we go to the mall.”
“What? Why the mall? Are we shopping for duct tape for your mouth? Because I’d love to do the honors.”
He made a half-grunt, half-hiss. “It’s Saturday. You’ll learn to harness the thoughts of crowds of people.” He started to walk back to the house.
Oh, that sucked. The others had been careful about blocking their thoughts while living in the house, but on occasion, I became bombarded by thoughts from people driving by. Figures, Kilter didn’t want to take baby steps. Instead, he was throwing me into a cesspit of thoughts. At least, I’d learn a hell of a lot faster.