The presence of that piece of ice is enough to scare me shitless.
It’s not supposed to exist. It was never real.
But it was there anyway.
What does that mean?
I hole up in my room for the rest of the day, doing a little research into warlock powers. There’s not a lot of info on the subject, mostly because...well, you know, science and magic, it’s like oil and water. Not much research has been done into our powers or where they come from, which really shocks me.
What I do find presents a lot of contradictions.
I find an article suggesting that, contrary to popular belief, it’s not impossible for warlocks to have two powers instead of just one - but no explanation for how it can happen, or how often. Then I find an article saying that while multi-powered warlocks exist, they tend to die off early because having two powers wears their bodies out that much faster. Or something. This one’s also very vague about its details.
The only source I find that I really come close to trusting goes into exhaustive detail about its results - which, once I look up a few of the more techno-babble-y words, indicates that yes, warlocks can have two powers - but only temporarily, and they’ll always revert to a single power eventually.
The article also says that it only happens when two conditions are met. One, the warlock has to have “latent alternative power” in his DNA - that is, he can’t be pure 100% Dark or Light or whatever. Two, the warlock’s latent power has to be activated by the presence of another warlock with the same power as the latent one.
This actually makes a lot of sense. I spent a good part of the day yesterday with Evan, and exhibited Ice power not long afterwards. And now, I can’t even replicate the other power I apparently had in my sleep.
And it sure beats the idea that having two powers could be lethal. I think I know which one I’m more willing to believe.
Of course, this raises a number of other questions as well.
For one thing, where did I get my “latent” power from? Mom? Or Dad? They’ve never said anything about any Ices on either side of the family.
And what about me and Evan? If I’m near her, I’m probably going to start showing Ice powers again. Not that that’s a bad thing, but I don’t think I’d want to give up my Dark power entirely. It’s all I’ve ever known.
Then again, who’s to say the results of that experiment were even reported accurately? For all I know, they could have just killed off their subjects and simply fudged their findings. Sounds paranoid, yes, not to mention oddly specific. But I wasn’t there to witness that study, so anything could have happened.
At this point, my real hope is that I can find myself to have a dual power, and not just for a short time either. I really want to get closer to Evan, and if it means I can learn a new ability I hadn’t even known I’d had - well, bonus. Hell, it might make up for it if I don’t succeed in my more romantic goal.
So my current plan is to see what Evan’s presence does to my power. The thing is, the study doesn’t clarify what they mean by “presence” - if simply being next to the other warlock is enough to activate the latent power, or if it has to be done by touch. I’m leaning towards the latter, based on the fact that last night, I only seemed to have Ice power in those two fingers Evan touched.
Speaking of which, I test it out again, to see if I can still make ice from those fingers. All that comes out, however, is two thin ribbons of Dark energy.
Okay, so maybe a little further experimentation is needed. Which, hopefully, I’ll be able to pull off soon enough. Until then, I decide to not tell my ‘rents anything about this. Not until I have something concrete to show them.
I don’t have long until Evan’s play starts, so I decide to leave the house and start walking. By now, it’s dark, which is perfectly fine with me. Nevertheless, I steer very clear of the Fire gang as I see them walking north on the other side of Spellman Boulevard. No need for me to get into a fight now, especially with an enemy who could really kick my ass.
At the entrance to the school’s theater, I present my ticket - and then get carded, because the girl taking the tickets doesn’t recognize me as a classmate. No surprise there - and, to be fair, I don’t recognize her either.
The show is, as Evan promised, very good. It starts off slowly, but then the main character, a young woman named Constance who insists that Shakespeare originally wrote Othello and Romeo and Juliet as comedies (which, based on what I’ve seen of R&J, actually makes a lot of sense), ends up falling into some dimensional portal that takes her into the world of Othello. Evan (wearing a brunette wig) soon comes in as Desdemona, who mistakes Constance for an awesome Amazon warrior princess or something like that, and after hearing Constance say “Bullshit!” she thinks it’s a war cry, so she yells it in the general direction of the audience. Three times. How Evan doesn’t corpse is beyond me.
I can see how Evan thinks she’s got the best line in the play - but I personally think she’s just barely beaten out by the ghost who appears in the graveyard scene in Act II (by which time we’ve moved from Venice to fair Verona). The ghost’s hilarious line? “Tybalt hath no sense of humour.” Not only is it a spot-on description, but its mix of old and modern English really gets me laughing, for whatever reason.
The one thing that I don’t expect is the surprisingly good production value. The play depends a hell of a lot on big booming lightning effects, followed by sudden plunging into darkness. They’ve even got the lighting system set up with this weird light - UV, I think - that effectively blocks out night vision for me and any other Darks in the audience, so we can’t see the stagehands making the quick change from the tiny office-space set to the larger Venice set, for instance. Clearly, they’ve put a lot of thought into their production.
When the play ends and all the actors take their bows (first individually, then lining up across the length of the stage and holding hands to bow together), I’m not the only one standing as I applaud. I can’t even resist throwing in a loud “Yeah, Evan!” when she takes her own bow.
I’m just about out the door when I get a phone call. Freezing for a moment - I haven’t heard my Pacific Rim theme ringtone in so long, I actually don’t realize at first that it’s my phone ringing - I check the caller ID and see Evan’s name.
“Hey, Desdemona,” I say, trying to hide my usual nervous laughter. “Excellent performance tonight. I really liked the show.”
“I could tell,” Evan says. “Nobody else was that enthusiastic for me.”
“Why not? Guess everyone else in the audience was a bunch of Philistines.”
“Whatever that means,” Evan says. “Hey, listen, I’m waiting backstage for the afterparty, but I really don’t wanna be there. Come meet me?”
“What? You mean, backstage?”
“More like onstage,” Evan says. “But you get the idea.”
I look around and see the last stragglers coming out the theater doors. “On my way,” I say, hanging up my phone and slinking back through the doors unnoticed. Being a Dark boy that nobody knows sometimes has its perks.
Evan is standing next to the trash can that dresses the office set, which was used again for the play’s very last scene, when Constance returns to reality. She’s got the brunette wig off and is again sporting her usual blonde braid. I have to wonder if she just stuffs it in under the wig, because I don’t see how she could change out of her costume and restyle her hair like that all in the space of five minutes - that’s how long it’s been since the show ended.
“Hey, Jason,” she says, waving to me. “Wanna come up and sit with me?”
I stand in front of the stage and look around. Sounds are coming from backstage, no doubt the other actors getting out of costume and chattering away. “Didn’t wanna join the party, huh?”
“Not really,” Evan says. “I don’t really feel like I belong there, anyway.”
I climb onto the stage, somehow managing not to slip and fall in the process, and sit on Constance’s desk next to Evan. “Why not? Pretty girl like you, you’d belong anywhere.”
“What about the New York City sewers?”
“Well, maybe not anywhere, then. But you get the idea.”
I look at Evan and see her smile for a moment. “That’s sweet of you that you think I’m so pretty,” she says. “Thanks.”
I pull one leg up so I can let the other hang over the floor. “Now don’t you go denyin’ your beauty on me.”
Evan’s smile expands. “You clearly still don’t know me that well. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Excellent,” I say. “I don’t like that kind of girl. She’s very annoying.” I pull an unfinished bag of peanut M&M’s out of my hoodie - it was a very big bag, too big for me to possibly eat them all. “You wanna share?”
“You read my mind,” Evan says, holding out her hand so she can take some candy. “Yeah, backstage they’re probably servin’ some nice rich cherry cake and chocolate pie.”
“Did you get something mixed up back there?” I drop the M&M’s into her hand, making sure all my fingers (on my left hand this time) touch her skin in the process.
“No, I didn’t,” Evan laughs. “Mr. Lake served that stuff last year after the first show of Once On This Island.”
“I don’t recall seein’ that one.”
“You weren’t missin’ much,” Evan says. “It was kind of a depressing show, and Lake...well, he’s got a temper. At least he had the grace to hold in his cussing until after little Ti Moune was out of earshot.”
“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Hopefully you never will,” Evan says, downing her M&M’s.
“Hey, who’s out there?” A boy’s slightly-nasal voice calls out from backstage, somewhere behind the phony walls that form the cubbylike office set.
I freeze, then look apprehensively at Evan. “Um, I’m not supposed to be here, am I?”
“The only one who really cares is Mr. Lake,” Evan whispers. “And, as I’m sure you can tell, that’s not him. Lake doesn’t talk anything like that.”
“Yeah, imagine him tryin’ to be his usual prima donna director self with a voice like mine,” the boy says, emerging from behind the wall. I recognize him as the actor who played Romeo - in person, he’s a slight dude with stringy brown hair hanging over green eyes. “Who are you?” he asks, looking at me.
Evan introduces us to each other - Romeo’s real name is Harris McCallum, and it turns out that, like me, he’s Dark. I can tell because when I shake his hand, my vision goes black for a split second, and Harris’s entire body glows like he’s under a black light. This is how Darks identify each other. Other warlocks have similar methods, but I have no idea how any of them work.
“Thought you said you didn’t know any other Darks,” I tell Evan.
“I never said that,” Evan says. “I just don’t know all that many. You and Harris are about the only two.” She turns to Harris. “You didn’t wanna party either?”
“Lake forgot the coffee,” Harris says. “He brought decaf instead. Yuck.”
“Tell me about it,” I say. “What’s the point of coffee without caffeine?”
Harris smirks. “Yeah, it’s not like it tastes good or anything.”
“Maybe we’ve been drinking the wrong stuff,” I say. “I’ve been wantin’ to go to Seattle for a long time. Lots more of us up there, which means more real coffee.”
“Wish I could go up there too,” Harris says. “No Fire gangs up there either. Have you seen that one that’s been terrorizin’ Glenstream?”
I frown. “You mean the one that keeps walkin’ up Spellman Boulevard after dark?”
“Nothing like going after the enemy when they’ve got the advantage, right?” Evan says. “Boneheads.”
“But there’s no Dark gangs,” I point out. “And these Fire guys - they go after people who are out alone. And not just Darks, anyone. Even their own people.”
Harris shuffles his feet. “Oh, but come on. Not all Fires are barbarians. What about-”
Evan snorts. “Don’t tell me. Not Armando DiFranco?”
The name seems familiar to me. “Isn’t he the one who makes all the muffins for the Spirit Week bake sales?”
“That’s the one,” Harris says, clapping his hands. “You don’t see him pickin’ up a gun and knockin’ over the Gas ‘n’ Sip, right?”
“Nope,” I say. “Unless it’s some kind of bake-sale stunt or something.”
Harris laughs. “Exactly. So, um, how’d you meet Evan?”
That’s one of the fastest changes of subject I’ve ever seen, but I roll with it. “We’ve got the same English class,” I say. “But we didn’t know each other until just the other day. She wanted to work with me on this project, so…”
“So I approached him about it, and he said yes,” Evan says. “And I figured I could make friends with him, ‘cause he doesn’t seem to have that many.”
“Try none at all,” I say ruefully.
“Oh really?” Harris asks. “Well, just ‘cause you’re Dark doesn’t mean you gotta be a lonely guy all your life.”
“Then how come you’re not hangin’ out with everyone else?” Evan asks.
“There’s no coffee,” Harris says again. “What’s your excuse?”
“I just wanted to see my civilian friend,” Evan says, patting my hand for a moment. “What’s so wrong with that?”
“Hey, who’s out there?” This time, the voice asking that question is deep, authoritative.
All three of us freeze as Evan mouths, “Lake.” Then we scoot forward and climb off the stage as quickly as possible, keeping low as we head for the exit.
“Is he really that scary?” I ask in between gasps of laughter as Evan, Harris and I get out of the building.
“Ehh, not really,” Evan laughs.
“Dude, are you kidding?” Harris says. “You should’ve seen him when I flubbed that one line in rehearsal. Blew a goddamn gasket.” He chuckles under his breath. “And now he hates my guts and probably won’t cast me in any other shows.”
“Yeah, why’d you audition, anyway?” Evan asks. “I never got the impression you were much for the theater.”
“What, I can’t be complicated like that?” Harris laughs. “Hey, maybe I need a break from Dad’s auto shop once in a while. And it’s good for tryin’ to get girls.”
Evan rolls her eyes. “In your dreams, Grease Monkey.”
“Did I say anything about gettin’ you?” Harris asks pointedly. “Uh, not that I wouldn’t wanna, but-”
“But we’ve known each other too long and it’d be hella weird,” Evan finishes. “Is that what you were tryin’ to say?”
“Um…”
“Exactly.”
Out in the parking lot, a white sedan - a vintage ‘80s-era Ford Taurus, to be precise - pulls up, and its driver honks the horn.
“There’s my dad,” Harris says. “Thank God. I need to blow this Popsicle stand like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Don’t we all,” I say.
Evan walks up to the car and gets into the backseat. Harris, meanwhile, turns to me and offers me a ride home.
“Um...nah, that’s okay,” I say. “Thanks, but I think I’d be kinda out of your way.”
“Evan lives way out of our way,” Harris says. “My dad won’t mind anyway.”
I shift from foot to foot. “No, thanks. I can get home just fine. I don’t wanna be any trouble.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
“Uh-huh. Okay, then,” Harris says, shaking my hand again. “Nice to meet you, Jason. Maybe this week we should meet up at lunch or something.”
“Maybe we should,” I say. “If you don’t mind bein’ out in the cold.”
“Can’t be friends with Evan if I do,” Harris laughs, getting into the Taurus’s front passenger seat.
Evan rolls down her window and waves goodbye to me as the Taurus drives off. I follow the car with my eyes, only setting off for home myself when it’s out of sight. As I walk, I think of Evan and all the positive changes she’s been bringing to my life. New friends, possible romance, even the chance of having a dual power - which I’m itching to get home and try out again.
Halfway up Spellman Boulevard, I see the Fire gang heading my way and immediately double back to the nearest crosswalk so I can avoid them. But the stupid light takes forever to change. With every passing second, they get closer, their ape-like hoots of laughter cutting through the freezing night air.
I try to stay inconspicuous by leaning casually against the light post, my hands in my pockets.
Big mistake. They sense my weakness and approach me faster, the better to antagonize me.
“Looks like we got a little Dark faggot all alone here,” one of the boys says - since he’s the biggest, I assume he’s the leader.
“Think you own the night, little pussy?” another one says, his face split by an inhumanly wide grin. He looks so much like the leader, he must be his brother.
“Go away,” I say, pushing to make my voice a bit deeper than normal.
The two Fire guys who’ve been talking exchange glances with their third friend, then laugh their ‘roid-needled asses off.
“Think you can just boss us around, Dark boy?” the leader taunts.
“Let’s show him who’s boss!” cries his brother.
I clench my fists. My right is already starting to hum with Dark energy - I stick it deeper into my pocket, while pulling out my left fist.
As I hoped, it’s glowing pale blue, ready to go with Ice power.
“Whoa!” The third guy, a curly-haired stringbean, jumps back at the sight. “He’s not Dark!”
Thank you, Captain Obvious. “Um...surprise?” I say.
Then, without another moment’s thought, I open my hand, and powdery snow sprays into the guys’ faces. Being Fire, they jump a mile to get away - Ice and Fire really don’t mix. It’s almost like when Nolan Solari flashes his Light in my face - it leaves them dazed, unable to do much but stare at me, dumbstruck, their jaws hilariously dropped.
Thankfully, the light finally changes at this point, and I waste no time getting to the other side of the street.
On the one hand, in hindsight, I probably should’ve accepted Harris’s offer of a ride.
On the other...I got to get three Fire gangbangers off my back, and nobody got hurt. Except maybe their egos.
I can’t resist letting out a loud whoop of laughter as I keep walking. I even throw in a fist pump and a leap into the air for good measure.
“Who’s the pussy now?” I yell across the street at the retreating Fire boys.