with the Astral Conduit I gave you?” Victoria furrowed her brow. Being sans-magic came with a particular set of difficulties that tended to frustrate the bejeezus out of the head huntswoman. If the key to voluntary Purges was Euphoria, then I doubted I’d ever be able to manage it. Only magicals could tap into that higher state, device or no device.
I took a flat disc that looked like it was made of hematite out of my backpack and slid it across the desk toward her. “I can’t even get it to light up the way you did last time.” I waggled my fingers. “I don’t have the right fuel. It’s like trying to ram a square peg into a round hole.”
“That just means we can strike that option off the list, but I have a whole host of alternatives for us to delve into.” Her black eyes glinted with eagerness. “This is as new to me as it is to you, but we will find a way together. I simply refuse to believe that your ability is random. Ironically, Chaos is an entity of order. There must be a system to it.”
We had gone over endless possibilities throughout the last six months, without coming up with much to show for it. I agreed with her that there had to be hidden depths to this ability, but Leviathan had been no help in suggesting what they might be. Still, my Purges had evened out of their own accord, to a certain extent. I knew they would come at least once a week, but they still spewed out of me whenever they felt like it. I couldn’t schedule them to arrive at six o’clock on a Thursday evening, regular as clockwork, but we’d both come to the conclusion that life would be much easier if I could schedule a Purge. It was the kind of control that I dreamed of, taking the unexpectedness out of this curse. But, right now, it was exactly that… a dream.
“I think we should go back to the emotion thing,” I offered. “Meditation calms me down, and that keeps a Purge at bay. My worst Purges happen when I’m at a fever pitch of anger, or sadness, or stress. Sure, they come along when I’m fine, too, but I just feel like we’re missing something by not playing on emotion.”
Victoria got up and paced behind her armchair, tapping a finger on her lower lip. “Okay, we’ll try that for today’s session.” She paused and looked at me. “How is your monster diary coming along?”
“It’s pretty detailed,” I replied. She’d suggested I keep a journal of sorts, writing down every Purge beast I created and how I’d felt when it happened. I’d turned it into more of a detailed sketchbook, with close-up diagrams and labels I could reference if I needed to.
“Any sort of pattern emerging?”
I shrugged. “Not that I can see. I’ve had Nathan take a look at it, and he can’t see any uniformity to it, either.”
“After six months, I would have thought there would be some regularity to the kinds of beasts you Purge.” She sighed, evidently exasperated that my ability continued to baffle and bemuse. “Perhaps, if we can uncover a way for you to choose when you Purge, you will also be able to choose the size and type of beast that you create.”
“Sure, let’s add that to the abstract theory list.” I flashed her a resigned smile. We kept bandying theories between us, but so far none of them had actually formed into something real. I was beginning to wonder if they ever would. Maybe, if I was a true magical, these things could’ve been possible. But there was every chance that Echidna and Leviathan had bet on the wrong horse when they’d “gifted” me with this ability. They might’ve thought what everyone else thought, that being a Merlin immediately meant magic up the wazoo. Ergo, by not having said Chaos up the wazoo, there would always be peaks of this ability that I would never be able to climb to.
Victoria waved a hand through the air. “I only have you for half an hour. Why don’t we begin with the emotion theory, and combine that with your meditation practices? Focus on a moment in which you have felt overwhelmed with emotion, and try to relive it as I have taught you—retracing the footsteps of a memory—and use that to see if you can urge a monster to come out.”
“I’ll give it