Page 53 of Her Dreadful Will
Soleil felt the woman’s will shift, her suspicions now encompassing Soleil as well, labeling her an addict and pairing her with the man—part of his gang, the woman’s thoughts whispered as she backed away and fumbled with the shop door.
“Terrible service here,” the woman snapped. “Such rudeness.”
Soleil couldn’t feel the woman’s volisphere anymore. Just as well—she’d been tempted to do some very drastic things to it. “Don’t bother to come back,” she said, her voice tight.
“Oh, I won’t,” said the woman. “And I’ll be sure to tell everyone I know to avoid this place, too.”
The bell jingled as she left. Soleil crossed her arms on the counter and lowered her forehead onto them. Great. Just as traffic started to pick up for the shop, someone had to come in and ruin it.
She could run after the woman and flex her will, just a little—enough to remove her desire to badmouth the shop. But that would be a selfish use of power, and Soleil’s vow would be broken, her thesis spoiled.
She stared at the binding ring on her finger, the mark of her vow. Did it communicate her missteps in some way to the Institute Levels Board, or to someone in the Convocation itself? Would it snap into pieces when she finally broke her vow? Maybe it would overheat and scar her, a permanent reminder of her failure.
Why was she worried about her vow, and her shop, when there was a decent man out there, forced to walk the same streets as that horrible woman? For a moment, Soleil tried to imagine what it would be like to be constantly noted and judged for skin color, for race. She couldn’t imagine it, and would never be able to thoroughly understand it.
And this was something she could not fix by flexing the mind of a single human. Racism was a systemic evil, something she wouldn’t be able to cleanse from the nation or the world, not if she had a lifetime to do it.
She could try, though. One person at a time.
The desire to attack that particular evil fueled the rest of her day and carried her home at a quicker pace than usual. She took Carebear for a fast and furious walk, fed him, and then plunked herself into a chair in her workroom, with a box of hyacles in front of her. She went through them one by one, plunging into their minds, dancing delicately through the threads of each will, searching for any hint of racism, phobias, fear of those who were different. Her mind-flex power didn’t grant her access to the entire mind, only the motives and willpower active in the moment. But most of the people she touched that evening were watching TV or scrolling through social media, and their responses to the characters and posts gave her a line to their layers of personal prejudice, some thicker than others.
When she was linked with a hyacle, buried deep in the center of a subject’s personal symphony, strengthening specific themes and muting others, Soleil had no way to gauge how much radiance she was expending. She resurfaced from every hyacle with a gasp, a little more drained each time.
Finally Soleil fell back in the chair. She let the last hyacle she’d used slip from her fingers, crash to the floor, and roll away.
The precious moonlight magic that Achan had poured into her body—she had spent so much of it already. She had to save some of the energy, because who knew when she’d be able to get a fresh infusion?
She closed her burning eyes and pressed her fingertips lightly over the lids.
To make a real difference, she needed access to more radiance, more power. She needed Achan and his coven, whatever the cost.
Wearily she leaned forward, scraping her phone off the table and unlocking it. She typed a new text to Achan.
“I messed up. I need your help. Whatever I have to do to fix this, I’ll do it. Just tell me what you want. Please.”
She tossed the phone back onto the table and sagged against the chair again.
Her phone buzzed, juddering across the wooden surface.
Soleil snatched it and read the message.
“You’re begging now? I love it.” He added a winking emoji.
She rolled her eyes and whispered, “Bastard.”
Another text appeared. “When do you get off work Friday? I have a half day.”
“I’m free in the afternoon too,” she texted. “What did you have in mind?”
“A hike at Hatter’s Fall.”
Ahike? She chewed her thumbnail. Fine. “I’m bringing my dog. He could use the exercise.” And Carebear would serve as excellent backup, in case Achan turned out to be truly dangerous.
She half hoped he was.
20
Soleil arrived at Hatter’s Fall well before the appointed time. Cerberus leaped from the back seat of the car as soon as she had his leash hooked onto the collar. “Sit, Carebear,” she said, but he pulled ahead with the same determined energy that got him expelled from police training.
