Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere by Bella Forrest Page 0,23
would’ve shown more understanding.
Genie gave me a reassuring jiggle. “Ignore her.”
“I plan to,” I mumbled. The rosy sheen had well and truly worn off of Charlotte, judging by Genie’s clipped tone.
No one has any idea what this is like. Becoming a hunter would be the challenge of a lifetime, made all the more difficult by my unique, one-of-a-kind power. I had a lot to learn, and, honestly, I felt like those builders, speeding toward a deadline—if I didn’t figure out how to capture my Purges fast, then there would be messes that I couldn’t clean up. But I’d come to the Institute to prove to myself, and to everyone else, that I was capable. I wouldn’t let Charlotte knock down my confidence before I’d even started.
“I don’t care how many monsters she’s caught, I bet you’ve seen things she’s only heard of in books.” Genie lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Soon enough, you’ll have a grip on this catching thing, and you’ll probably end up with a list of captures longer than anyone in the history of the Institute. Rarer and cooler, too.”
“Maybe. Right now, I’d be happy to just catch one.” We walked along with the rest of the group, though we hung back to bring up the rear. “But thanks for the ego boost.”
As much as I liked to think I could’ve done this alone, I was grateful to have my stubborn friend there with me. After all, I’d almost blacked out from the mere threat of an oncoming Purge. Without her, I’d be on the ground somewhere, willing the overwhelming anxiety away. But, like I’d sworn to my mom, I wouldn’t get in the habit of relying on someone else. I needed to learn to control my emotions and my creations. They were the lynchpin to this whole Purge thing, and it was better to take the bullets out of the gun than to fire at a bulletproof vest.
Five
Persie
Evening snuck up on Galway like a child playing a trick, chasing the sun down to the horizon. I sat by the window and let the vivid colors wash over my face, my fingertips eager for paint and canvas, both of which were still waiting to be sent over from the SDC. So, I let my eyes be the artist, picking out the tones and marveling at each: the bursts of oxblood fading into tawny orange, deep notes of plum foreshadowing the oncoming night, and the residue of daylight hiding in notes of citrine and yellow ochre. San Diego had some stunning sunsets, but this was otherworldly, as though Galway itself were ablaze.
The nights in Ireland were proving to be the hardest. I’d never realized how loud my family home was until I wasn’t there anymore. The familiar tread of my mom’s footsteps in the hall, the sound of doors opening and closing, the rush of the faucet in the bathroom, the murmur of my parents talking before bed.
Louisa May Alcott’s words came to mind as I watched the sunset an ocean away from my mom. Mothers can forgive anything! she wrote. Tell me all, and be sure that I will never let you go, though the whole world should turn from you. Mom was the one I usually spoke to about my dreams, and I worried about what dreams awaited me once I slipped into my narrow bed and closed my eyes.
“Maybe speaking to her would make me feel calmer,” I said aloud to the stark room. Anything to dispel the stony silence. My nerves had eased up throughout the day, but I still didn’t feel peaceful. Frankly, I wondered if I ever would again. And, you know what? No matter how old a person gets, sometimes, you just need to talk to your mom.
I set my phone on the windowsill and dialed. It would only be about eleven in the morning where she was, so maybe she wouldn’t be too busy with work yet. Five rings later, the call connected.
“Persie!” My mom’s face appeared in slightly fuzzy hologram form, but her smile came through crystal clear. “I was just about to have lunch and give you a call.”
My hands fidgeted out of sight of the camera. “Oh. Did I interrupt you?”
“Not at all. I was just plowing through paperwork. Super boring.” She lifted up a folder, as though I needed evidence. “What time is it there?”
“Nearly seven.” There was something about technology that stilted conversation. If I were home, there’d be minimal small talk. We’d