Page 9 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

FOUR

JAMES

By the time I’d worked up a decent sweat, the room had filled with several “groupies” as Matthew called them, all staring at my…training.

Girls had always been around, even back when I was only First Offensive. I was used to it and the fact that they–usually–kept their distance made it easier to ignore them. Aside from the weekly itch I scratched by indulging one of them, I barely even noticed their presence anymore.

I concluded my training after another twenty minutes with a few roundhouse kicks, when a blonde girl—looking at least a quarter of a cycle—descended to the center and approached me quite boldly. I sized her up and silently applauded her courage.

“It’s so awesome how you use your body and your translation as one.” She giggled nervously, her friends nodding in agreement from a distance. I wondered which of them I’d find later, hovering near my door on the sixteenth floor.

"Can you teach me how to do so as well?" she asked, her tone sugary sweet but lacking sincerity. She clearly didn’t give a fuck about translation.

“Sure,” I replied dryly, while fighting the rapidly approaching borders of boredom. “I’ll send you some instructions through the Nexus.”

She giggled again and eagerly responded with a, “Yes, please nex me,” her enthusiasm as transparent as a wet white T-shirt over a pink bikini.

I straightened my back and flexed my jaw as the rest of them descended the stairs.

My impatience started seeping through, and the girls hastily left the room when I let out a low but distinct growl, a hint of desire lingering in their eyes. I rolled mine in response.

I was still cleaning up when a dark figure emerged from the shadows. My natural instincts kicked in but before I could incinerate the intruder, I saw Stephen smirking at my serious expression.

He held up his hands apologetically while walking up to me. “It’s just little old me, my Padawan.” He laughed. I never got the whole padawan reference, but apparently, it was from some ancient movie he was fond of, something about aliens in space.

“You should know better by now than to sneak up on me.” I scoffed. “I could’ve seriously hurt you.”

I tried to convey as much anger as I could in one look, so he would heed my warning but my antics only made him laugh harder.

“You, my dear James, are an Offensive wonder to be sure, but I came into this room all but fifteen minutes ago. In order to get to me first, you’ll have to train a little more and charm the ladies a little less.” He winked.

I was happy to see him of course but my ego certainly wasn’t. He chuckled at the expression on my face, he knew I was annoyed.

"Oh, come on, lighten up, will you?" He grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. I returned the hug a little awkwardly. I wasn’t one for a lot of physical affection, but Stephen was the closest thing I had to a father, so I allowed it.

I patted his back, almost sensing the grin I couldn't see spreading across his face.

"It's good to see you," he said, and I nodded. It had been months since we last met in person.

“But I’m actually here to talk to you about something rather serious,” he continued, concern etched in his eyes. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

“Of course,” I responded and opened a personal portal to my loft.

“My loft is soundproof, so we’re clear to talk there.” He smiled and took the portal first. I closed off the training room and followed him.

Once we arrived in my living-room, Stephen sat down at my desk. I translated him a cold bottle of water and took a seat across from him on my couch.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, furrowing my brow as his serious demeanor caught my attention. He dismissed it, but I could sense something was off.

"What happened?" I pressed, attempting to calm down a growing sense of worry.

He sighed. “Well, something did happen…but not to me,” he added hurriedly, noticing my expression. I relaxed a little and leaned back, studying him. He looked well, though exhausted, and I wondered what could’ve possibly happened that made him interrupt his consensus-tour to come talk to me.

“How‘s the international consensus coming along?” I asked politely but he brushed off the question, indicating it wasn't the reason for his visit.

He studied me with a penetrating gaze, obviously contemplating how to begin discussing whatever had brought him here. I realized I’d never seen him hesitate like this ever before. Whatever he was about to share weighed heavily on him, which made me feel somewhat on edge.

I shifted a little on my bed and nodded encouragingly at him. He took a deep breath and then a sip of water. Tapping my foot impatiently, I waited for him to start talking.

“I was in Boston for a few weeks doing some research I won’t bore you with, when I came across…” He bit his lip and squinted his eyes slightly, as if he wasn’t sure if he could tell me.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I assured him, a little offended he doubted my discretion.

“It’s not that,” he waved impatiently. He got up from the chair and started pacing around the room. Him being nervous was very out of character and it made me even more anxious.

“Can I ask you something?” he restarted abruptly. I nodded, confused by this change of direction.

“You were six years old by the time we found you, how did you manage to keep your translation hidden all those years before? Do you know?” he inquired.

I was rather stunned by his question; I had known Stephen for almost twenty-four years, and he had never asked me about my time before Cyclos.

“Well,” I began slowly, “I’m not entirely sure but I think since nobody really cared about how I felt, I didn’t either.

Whatever feelings resided in me, I had no idea how to express them, so I guess, when my emotions didn’t surface, neither did my powers…

It wasn’t until that incident in the last group home, where you ended up finding me, my powers kicked in.

And as you know, once they did, it took me a long time to learn how to contain them. ”

Suddenly it dawned on me what it was he was getting at.

“Is that what this is about? Did you find another one in the Human World?” I asked, taken aback.

Finding a maga or magus in the Human World on our own was rare; they were typically registered and located by the LiaPrism as soon as they translated.

Afterward, a Defensive from the closest Collective would retrieve them, as ordered by the Council.

He nodded, his eyes filled with sadness.

"Yeah," he replied, "and she's much older than I could have ever imagined." He sighed as he resumed his seat.

"How old is she?" I asked slightly alarmed. "Seven? Eight?"

He observed my face and answered softly, as if anticipating my reaction.

"She's in her early twenties."

I don’t know what reaction he expected, but hearing this, I snorted derisively.

"Stephen, I’m sorry but that's not possible. Nobody has so few emotions, their magic remains dormant until their twenties! That would mean she’s never experienced any uncontrollable emotions, not as a child, not during puberty. The odds of that happening are?—”

"Non-existent," he interrupted me. "I know," he continued.

"But I talked to her. She's in her early twenties, a law student, interning at a major law firm in Boston.

She's living a very human life, with seemingly wonderful human parents, friends, and a thriving career.

But, and I'm certain of this, she has the power to translate . "

I was highly skeptical of what he was telling me.

"And how can you be so sure she has translation?”

“I saw it happen. I saw her translate , ” he said almost inaudibly.

I sat up straight immediately.

“That’s not possible. If a maga was translating in the Human World, we would've known. The LiaPrism would’ve alerted us, would’ve tracked her energy and she’d be in our records already,” I stated the obvious.

Stephen nodded again.

“I know, I checked. The incident wasn't traceable,” he said, looking directly at me without blinking.

My throat was drying up faster than puddles in a drought. I jumped up from the couch and started walking up and down the room.

“I'm sorry, Stephen, but I'm not following you.

There is no such thing as untraceable translation .

Our magic is as traceable in the Human World as blood is for humans; it's in our DNA.

There's no way what you're telling me is right,” I concluded firmly but cautiously, not wanting to sound disbelieving, which I definitely was.

He nodded yet again.

“I know all this,” he answered impatiently, “but a few days ago, while I was in the Human World, I saw her crossing the street. I saw her observing a car in slow motion, ready to hit her, which probably would've killed her if it did, and I watched her jump over the car and fly back to the street?—”

“Maybe she was just lucky,” I interrupted.

“And while she did, her jump was carrying a dark red haze,” he finished.

I stared him down in silence. What he was spewing was downright unbelievable. My gaze bore into him as the gravity of his story started to sink in... A dark red haze in the Human World indicated a hefty dose of unbridled, raw power. Whatever that meant, it should have been traceable.

"Are you telling me," I growled, my voice dripping with menace, "there's a maga in the Human World, who’s been sitting on dormant powers for over twenty something years, and now that they've surfaced, we can't track her because she has untraceable translation?

" My mind raced, struggling to grasp the shit he was dumping on me.

"I don't know whether her powers were dormant or simply untraceable all these years, but yeah, that's the gist of it," he answered, unwavering.

"So what? Her translation is untraceable in the Human World, but visible?" I demanded.

"That's how it looks," he confirmed.