8 Learning Secrets

The words flick at something inside me, twang like fingers on guitar strings. I don't want to be a spectator in this life. But how does he know that?

Our gazes lock and I'm fighting to find my indignation of moments ago. He licks his lips and edges back another half step, his hand still on my wrist, but no other parts of him touching me. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I just wanted you to know."

He looks at me with an awe that will make me shiver when I remember it later, but for this moment I can't stop marveling at the fire licking my insides. I squirm because if I was alone I'd dance. The flames on my fingers quiver, like candles in a breeze.

"How?" I laugh. "I mean, the Shades are real? And people know this?"

Finally serious, he examines me. "No. Not really. Most think it's an urban myth. They've never met . . . never seen . . ." His lips flatten to a grim line. "I'm not supposed to show you this yet," he says, tipping his head toward my hand.

O-kay," I breathe and drop my voice to a whisper. "So that movie about the Shades—was that real? Because there was some—"

"Of course not," Aiden snorts.

"Then what—"

Aiden snaps his head to look at the door, the hallway beyond through the glass window. "We can't do this here."

"Then where? Aiden, this is huge."

That boyish smirk appears again and he winks. "Bigger than you think," he says suggestively.

I snort to cover my awkwardness at the flirt, but I can't stop gazing at the flames on my hand, wiggling my fingers, marveling at this impossible thing.

Shades are real. And channeling feels amazing. What the hell just happened?

"Come out with us tomorrow, Kate," he whispers. "I'll explain everything."

The air changes again, drawing through me, travelling my veins like it got the map and now it knows where to find me. There's a pulse in it that promises more.

Aiden's grip on my wrist isn't the vehicle, it's the open door.

I pull my hands in front of me so I can examine them, see the grain of my fingerprints. Feel tiny flames dancing their lines.

Never losing contact with my skin, Aiden cups my hands in his, and I gasp as the candles on my fingertips sink, only to be replaced with a small flame, the most incredible shade of purple, shimmering in the hollow of my palms. It licks and quivers like a candle. We both watch it.

"Shades are so much more than what you've seen, Kate. And we can help—with the addiction? The cravings?" I snap my head up to examine him, but his expression is open. Like he cares. "I made this connection for you, so you'd know . . ." The first chord of uncertainty plays in his voice. But I'm too busy being awed by this thing that's happening to me. It feels amazing. Like I have power. Like I could—

Aiden clears his throat and drops his hands. The connection snaps. The power drains out of me like water down a plug. The flame disappears. I slump.

I am less.

He steps back, rakes a hand through his hair leaving a trail of mussed spikes.

I can't stop staring at my cupped hands, struggling to pull that power through my skin again. Try to find the heat.

Nothing.

And deep inside, a little curl of the cravings. It's small, little more than a whisper. But it promises that it's still there, ready to haunt me.

I need to be able to do that. Shut the cravings down. "Why can't I do it?"

Aiden chuckles. "Don't worry, you will. You were born for this, you just aren't ready yet. I just didn't want to waste the next three months waiting to prove to you that you could."

"I can what? Be a witch, like you?"

Aiden scoffs. "Shades are not witches."

"But it's magic, right? I saw the movie. You guys control people and . . ." I trail off, my head suddenly full of the images—the torture and death, laughter in the face of brutality. I suck in.

"That's a movie." He rolls his eyes, but his expression's serious. "Channeling's not magic. It's power. It'll do whatever you want. I can teach you to. You'll be strong, Kate."

"But—" I'm about to insist on more information now, when someone barks a laugh right outside the door, shouting at a friend as they walk past. Aiden whips his head to look into the hallway.

All those people nearby, full classrooms—an entire school—and they have no idea what just happened.

Aiden looks wary. "Look, we can't do this now. I'm not a monster. And neither are my friends. No one will hurt you. We're powerful, so people get scared. They make up stories to justify their fear. No one wants to admit they're just too scared to join us." He hesitates. "Please . . . come tomorrow night. I can explain everything." He glances toward the hallway again.

With the warmth and beauty gone, I'm returning to my right mind, though there's a question in the back of my head now that wasn't there before as I mentally examine my body, how relaxed it feels. How the cravings were gone, and they're still mostly silent.

Can I not reach for more of this? It's incredible. So much better than any high I've had before.

I bite my lip. "I'll think about it." Done. I'm going. "Where is it?"

His lips slide up on one side. "On the beach next to the old, burned out dock. Find me when you get there. We'll talk." The heat in his gaze suggests we might do more than talking.

I snort, but my pulse thumps in my ear. Shock is wearing off to be replaced with exhilaration. Fascination. I shake my head at my own weakness. But this channeling thing is incredible. And I can't let my hang-ups get in the way of figuring out if it's something I can do by myself. I need Aiden for that. Need the answers he's got.

The second bell screams—is it possible we've only been in here five minutes?—and Aiden's head turns automatically towards the noise.

"Aiden?" I say carefully.

He looks back at me. I keep my face as smooth and pleasant as I can.

"I'll have to see if I can make it tomorrow," I say. He grins, but nods. I don't let myself smile back. "But I swear, if you ambush me, or try anything, I will castrate you. With my fingernails."

He blinks and opens his mouth, but I pat his face, turn on my heel and leave without looking back.

"Kate!" His laughter echoes behind me.

Then I'm in the hallway, shaking, as the impossibility of what just happened hits me. I walk, then more quickly, then jog, then run, faster and faster to get away from him, from the increasing compulsion to go back, to get more of that . . . whatever it was.

I'm running blind. I have no idea where my class is. My head spins.

What if he comes after me? I pray he won't. He's flipped my entire world. I want to grab his shirt and demand he teach me—offer him things to teach me.

I can't let him know I'm scared out of my mind, and exhilarated.

He said I have power.

If that's how power feels I want more. I want all of it.

No, I need to get away, get some space. Think this through.

I'm super-late for class, pleading new-student confusion. The teacher's mad and threatens detention, but I don't care. All I can think about is Aiden, the fire inside me, and that bonfire tomorrow.

When the final bell for the day clangs, I flash on Aiden's face—his excitement and delight at helping me channel. Was it fake? A trap? Did his spell, or whatever it was, just make me feel like that power was mine?

Somehow I've made it to my locker.

I'm wrestling with the combination lock—and my conflicting feelings about Aiden—when Amy arrives, twinkling, laughing. She's made some new friends. She has hope. She'll make a life here.

With a loud click, the door to my locker finally gives.

When I swing it open a piece of yellow notepaper flutters out. Amy reaches for it, but I get there first. Even before I open it, I know who it's from.

Kate,

No surprises. Promise.

The bonfire's tomorrow on the beach next to the old dock at seven.

Come.

We'll talk there.

Aiden.

I shake my head even as new kind of want coats my throat. I brush off Amy's high-pitched questions, mutter something about an assignment because . . . because even if Aiden is a narcissist, he was right about one thing.

That power was intoxicating.

And I want more.