“What is it?” I fix my eyes on the floor and count stones and sounds and cracks and nothing.
1
2, 3, 4
1
2, 3, 4
1
2, 3, 4
“He … can disable things,” Castle says to me.
5, 6, 7, 8 million times I blink, confused. All my numbers crash to the floor, adding and subtracting and multiplying and dividing. “What?” I ask him.
This news is wrong. This news doesn’t sound horrible at all.
“The discovery was quite accidental, actually,” Castle explains. “We weren’t having much luck with any of the tests we’d been running. But then one day I was in the middle of a training exercise, and Mr. Kent was trying to get my attention. He touched my shoulder.”
Wait for it.
“And … suddenly,” Castle says, pulling in a breath, “I couldn’t perform. It was as if—as if a wire inside of my body had been cut. I felt it right away. He wanted my attention and he inadvertently shut me off in an attempt to redirect my focus. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” He shakes his head. “We’ve now been working with him to see if he can control his ability at will. And,” Castle adds, excited, “we want to see if he can project.
“You see, Mr. Kent does not need to make contact with the skin—I was wearing my blazer when he touched my arm. So this means he’s already projecting, if only just a little bit. And I believe, with some work, he’ll be able to extend his gift to a greater surface area.”
I have no idea what that means.
I try to meet Adam’s eyes; I want him to tell me these things himself but he won’t look up. He won’t speak and I don’t understand. This doesn’t seem like bad news. In fact, it sounds quite good, which can’t be right. I turn to Castle. “So Adam can just make someone else’s power—their gift—whatever it is—he can just make it stop? He can turn it off?”
“I appears that way, yes.”
“Have you tested this on anyone else?”
Castle looks offended. “Of course we have. We’ve tried it on every gifted member at Omega Point.”
But something isn’t making sense.
“What about when he arrived?” I ask. “And he was injured? And the girls were able to heal him? Why didn’t he cut off their abilities?”
“Ah.” Castle nods. Clears his throat. “Yes. Very astute, Ms. Ferrars.” He paces the length of the room. “This … is where the explanation gets a little tricky. After much study, we’ve been able to conclude that his ability is a kind of … defense mechanism. One that he does not yet know how to control. It’s something that’s been working on autopilot his entire life, even though it only works to disable other preternatural abilities. If there was ever a risk, if Mr. Kent was ever in any state of danger, in any situation where his body was on high alert, feeling threatened or at risk of injury, his ability automatically set in.”
He stops. Looks at me. Really looks at me.
“When you first met, for example, Mr. Kent was working as a soldier, on guard, always aware of the risks in his surroundings. He was in a constant state of electricum—a term we use to define when our Energy is ‘on,’ so to speak—because he was always in a state of danger.” Castle tucks his hands into his blazer pockets. “A series of tests have further shown that his body temperature rises when he is in a state of electricum—just a couple of degrees higher than normal. His elevated body temperature indicates that he is exerting more energy than usual to sustain this. And, in short,” Castle says, “this constant exertion has been exhausting him. Weakening his defenses, his immune system, his self-control.”
His elevated body temperature.
That’s why Adam’s skin was always so hot when we were together. Why it was always so intense when he was with me. His ability was working to fight mine. His energy was working to defuse mine.
It was exhausting him. Weakening his defenses.
Oh.
God.
“Your physical relationship with Mr. Kent,” Castle says, “is, in truth, none of my business. But because of the very unique nature of your gifts, it’s been of great interest to me on a purely scientific level. But you must know, Ms. Ferrars, that though these new developments no doubt fascinate me, I take absolutely no pleasure in them. You’ve made it clear that you do not think much of my character, but you must believe that I would never find joy in your troubles.”
My troubles.
My troubles have arrived fashionably late to this conversation, inconsiderate beasts that they are.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please just tell me what the problem is. There’s a problem, isn’t there? Something is wrong.” I look at Adam but he’s still staring away, at the wall, at everything but at my face, and I feel myself rising to my feet, trying to get his attention. “Adam? Do you know? Do you know what he’s talking about? Please—”
“Ms. Ferrars,” Castle says quickly. “I beg you to sit down. I know this must be difficult for you, but you must let me finish. I’ve asked Mr. Kent not to speak until I’m done explaining everything. Someone needs to deliver this information in a clear, rational manner, and I’m afraid he is in no position to do so.”
I fall back onto the bed.
Castle lets out a breath. “You brought up an excellent point earlier—about why Mr. Kent was able to interact with our healer twins when he first arrived. But it was different with them,” Castle says. “He was weak; he knew he needed help. His body would not—and, more importantly, could not—refuse that kind of medical attention. He was vulnerable and therefore unable to defend himself even if he wanted to. The last of his Energy was depleted when he arrived. He felt safe and he was seeking aid; his body was out of immediate danger and therefore unafraid, not primed for a defensive strategy.”
Castle looks up. Looks me in the eye.