Ellucid (Ellucid #1) ★

Sixteen

Am I going insane already? I think about what Ryan told me earlier. Coupled with Marisa's warning it seems like everyone's worried I'll go crazy. Is there something about me that makes people think I'm more susceptible to danger?

"Thanks for the warning," I say. I mean for it to sound genuine, but it comes across forced.

Marisa presses her lips together and slides my folder back inside her desk. "Let's go take your weapons test. Then, I think you should make up with Emery. I'm not letting two people who are fighting with each other go on a potentially deadly mission."

What if I do die tomorrow? I'll never be able to see what my powers can do. I'll never make up with Asher. Will he be the one to kill me? Or will it be Willa? What if it's an accident, and that's what it takes for Asher to snap out of his haze?

Am I even ready to die?

I follow Marisa out of the room, trying to focus on what I need to do to move forward. Pass the weapons test. Fake an apology to Emery. Get a good night's sleep, even though I know that will be impossible with the possibility of seeing Asher tomorrow.

"All right, Gabi," says Marisa. "I'm going to have you shoot the gun you'll use tomorrow a few times. Then you can practice throwing your knife. Those are the only two weapons you'll be equipped with tomorrow, so we'll worry about other defense mechanisms later. Your instincts should kick in if you need to use any nontraditional weapons—for example, a chair or a lamp."

"It sounds like you expect there to be a struggle," I say as she slides open the door and hands me my pistol.

Marisa steps back so I can shoot. Under the harsh light, I can see dark circles shadowing her eyes. "It's always good to be prepared," she says. "Start shooting."

I raise the gun and aim it towards the target again, gritting my teeth so they don't chatter. Over and over again, I remind myself that this is for Asher. So I can protect him. So I can save us.

The first bullet hits the center of the target. Then I shoot two more, in rapid succession, and they hit the same spot. Each gunshot sends a chill to my gut, but I keep my jaw locked so it doesn't shake.

"Good," says Marisa, and I set down the gun. The sharp gunpowder stings my nose, and when I swallow a lump in my throat goes down funny.

She reaches over to the table and rifles through a few knives before selecting a short, fat one. "Try throwing this."

I run my fingers along it, feeling the cool metal in contrast with the heat of the gun. If I squint, I can make out my blurred reflection, my wide blue eyes and wisps of hair falling out of my ponytail. I look wild, deranged. Maybe it's just the reflection, or maybe it's who I become when I hold these weapons.

Taking a deep breath, I grip the handle of the knife and focus on its weight. Then I throw it. It spins and spins, and I'm surprised when it sticks to the target. My aim isn't as accurate as when I used the gun, but it must be enough because Marisa nods in approval.

She has me throw a few more knives, until my aim is precise and my fingers cramp from clenching onto them. I'm becoming used to the monotonous routine of throwing the knives, of watching them sink into the rubber of the target and quiver. After the sixth one slices into place, she says, "That's enough for now. Good work. You're almost ready for the mission tomorrow."

"Almost?"

"Go make up with Emery. I'm not compromising on that."

She puts the gun and knives back in their cabinets, dismissing me. Rubbing my hands against my t-shirt, I slip back out into the hallway. Alone, I'm able to register my fear.