The Master Class

I knew they were watching me. I didn’t know how, but I knew they were.

In the four years since my parents died, I’ve waited for them to show some sign that they’re still with me. Now, being isolated at Blackstone-Fox Manor since I’ve failed to control my constantly evolving powers, I’ve searched for them everywhere I can, in any form. I knew them. Wherever–or whatever– they were, they were watching me.

Let me correct myself. I’ve searched for my mother, but I couldn’t care less if I found my father. However, I knew if I found him, she’d be nearby, so I tended to look for him, too. I knew it wouldn’t be like the first time, though, when she spoke to me on the edge of the dock, using my dog as a medium. My whole life had been strange, and it only got stranger after that. But she’d said they’d always be there.

My telekinetic energy has grown exponentially, and so has my need to run it off. Focusing on running keeps me from spinning out of control, keeps the furniture in place, keeps the knives in the butcher block. It temporarily snuffs out the anxiety of no longer being able to control the damaging effects of my turbulent emotions. If I can’t keep it tempered then the drapes begin to smolder and then burst into flames. I used to be able to control that, too, but not anymore. With nothing to ground me, I’ve turned to the one thing I can control. My pace, my breathing, and my rhythm have become my freedom.

After months of seclusion, running in the early morning and daytime isn’t enough, so I’ve started running at night. My crystal clear vision lets me run the paths through the woods easily, whether my eyes are open or closed. I’ve learned to feel my way through the trees, effortlessly dodging branches and gliding over the heavy roots protruding from the dirt. My feet land in the right place after the ground gives way to the basin surrounded by beech trees. I’d initially missed the path since it circles the basin, but now I just consider it a shortcut. Running through the woods in the darkness has become liberating, and I find my senses are more acute than ever.

That’s how I knew they were watching me.

With the moonlight peeking through the trees, I opened my eyes and slowed my tempo. I scanned the woods but didn’t notice any movement. I stopped in my tracks and stood perfectly still. There was just silence, an eerie calm that settled around me. Nothing caught my attention, no unusual shadows or whispers. It was unsettling, though, and if I’d had hackles, they’d have been standing at attention. I continued down the path, concealing my nerves with a confident stride. Although I’d learned as a teenager not to crave my father’s approval, he’d have been proud of how I kept my composure.

Always be a duck, Finn. Glide on the water, paddle like hell under the surface.

I casually surveyed the woods, never letting my eyes dart from one place to another. For once, my father’s insistence that I smother my emotions finally became useful. I heard a subtle breathing behind me, and though it was quiet, it was an intentional sound that demanded to be acknowledged. I dismissed it. The purposeful snap of a twig was designed to catch my attention, but I ignored it. I was being followed, but I refused to run. I couldn’t decide if I was exceptionally brave or exceptionally stupid. Honestly, it could’ve been some of both.

The screeching of a barn owl pierced the silence, though rather than startling me, it calmed me. The ominous presence receded, though it didn’t completely disappear, and I knew it wouldn’t. It was only being held at bay.

I didn’t see the owl, but I instinctively followed the direction of the fluttering in the leaves as if it were always a step ahead of me, leading me in the right direction. I smiled, knowing that it was guiding me to the clearing–the heart of everything sacred about Blackstone-Fox Manor.

I stood at the shimmering opening, a small break in a barrier of trees and overgrown thickets. It was just a slight warping of the air and a shift of light, something that would never be noticed by someone without my genetic coding, nor would they feel drawn to its energy. Even if they did discover it by some freak of imperfect powers, they wouldn’t be able to pass through it. Genetic coding is everything.

Once on the other side of the entryway, I began the familiar ritual of protecting the space. I placed my hand on the first tree, and as it warmed and glowed under my palm, the center point of each tree around the circle of the clearing lit up as well. The slight movement of my hand on the rough bark acted as a rheostat, letting me adjust the brightness to cast only a soft light radiating from the perimeter. The branches wove together as if locking arms to form a circle, joined together by the warped air and light of the entrance. Essentially, this was my safe room, roughly half the size of a football field. A complete sense of calm washed over me, allowing me to fully relax my mind and body.

Feeling completely secure, I walked over to the large, stone slab embedded in the ground. Legend had it that it had been used for rituals and ceremonies for countless decades, including the botched one that altered my powers in ways I was only beginning to understand. It never made sense, though. The others hadn’t had the same reaction, at least what seemed to be permanent for me. Long story short–because it’s a very long story–we managed to normalize their powers, but I still kept remnants of the powers they each had, which made me a loose cannon because I couldn’t control them. The empath, the telepath, and the chronologist all left their mark on me, as well as any powers that had ever been used against me. We just didn’t know why or how.

Being in the clearing, though, made me feel somewhat normal again, and the stone altar was the heart of it. I instinctively knew that the owl had drawn me there, so I sat down and waited for… I didn’t know what I was waiting for, but there I was, being more patient than I’d ever been in probably my entire life. When I had completely given in to the fact that I was not in control of any sense of time, I heard the screeching of the barn owl once again. This time, however, it wasn’t as much of a screech to get my attention as it was a specific communication. I scanned the tree line, still not finding the owl.

Stop searching.

The sound in my head was not much more than a whisper, but it was as loud as a siren all the same. I can hear other people’s thoughts, but this wasn’t a person’s thought in my head. It was her. It was my mother’s voice, plain as day. I scanned the trees for the owl again, knowing she had to be there somewhere.

Stop searching.

Hearing her voice, though, all I wanted to do was search. I wanted to see her, whether it was an owl, a butterfly, a mosquito, whatever. Knowing my mother, though, if she said to stop searching, that’s what I needed to do. So I stopped searching, closed my eyes, and just waited.

I heard the nearly imperceptible shift of the wind and smiled. I felt the faint scratch of claws as they touched down on the slab and the gentle hopping as she moved closer. The subtle flap of wings settling into her body fluttered over my own skin as if her feathers were actually touching my arms, and my heart raced knowing that she really was near me.

Open your eyes.

I did as I was told, noticing that my eyelashes were already wet. It wasn’t what I’d expected. I’d imagined I’d see an owl with a white, heart-shaped face, with freckled, orange-brushed feathers. What I saw was a burnt amber heart-shaped face with eyes disappearing into its charcoal depth, feathers so black they were almost blue, and freckles that looked more like sequins in the moonlight. I briefly wondered how she turned up as a rare, black barn owl, but then I also wasn’t surprised.

Are you not also a genetic mutation of what others consider to be normal?

I thought about her words, and they made more sense at that moment than they ever had. Our human genetic coding was rare, and even in death she was as rare as she’d ever been. She was beautiful, just as I’d always remembered, in whatever form she’d become.

I’m not the only one.

She swiveled her head to look toward the opening of the clearing. At first, all I saw were eyes that matched the burnt amber of her face. As I adjusted my vision, I saw the silhouette of a black wolf, sitting motionless except for the slight swish of its tail. I was initially startled by something having passed through the protective barrier of the clearing, but then I remembered that he would also have the genetic coding that would allow him to enter the space. Of course it was my father. It became even more apparent as he lowered his head and stared at me even more intensely. The feeling I’d had earlier, when I knew I was being followed, returned immediately.

The owl screeched at the wolf, who raised his head and aloofly looked away. Yeah, that was my dad. Even in death, he was an asshole. The owl swiveled her head back to look at me again.

Yes, even in death.

After one more turn of her neck, she screeched softly, and the wolf began to approach slowly, though not nearly as menacing as before. I wondered how she’d been able to bring him to heel–she hadn’t been able to do that when they were alive. I sat up straight, and he trotted a little faster, stopping about ten feet from the slab.

You maintained your composure very well in the woods.

I couldn’t help but grin a little bit, but it didn’t last long once I remembered that smiles weren’t something we usually gave each other on a regular basis. The same deep voice penetrated my thoughts, and the moment seemed as surreal as if I were in the middle of a truly messed up dream. I thought that maybe I was, which would’ve made sense. Mom was a dream walker and had death warnings. Confusion set in as I remembered Aunt Audrey telling me that I was a necromancer after the first and only time I’d ever heard from my mom, shortly before my powers had gotten messed up last year.

I shook my head in disbelief. “This is too much. Please tell me I’m not a necromancer.”

The wolf walked closer to the slab. I suppose there’s a fine line between necromancy and what’s happening here. Don’t let my sister twist your thoughts, though. You didn’t conjure us. You didn’t ask for this.

“But didn’t I?” I asked. I turned toward the owl and said, “I’ve wanted to see you. I’ve wanted to know you’re here.”

No, Finn. This is my doing. I could’ve come to you in a dream, but I couldn’t have brought your father with me. This was the only way. If you’d conjured us, that would be a different story, but I chose this.

“So you picked an owl and a wolf?”

Think back to the things you saw in the house when you grew up. The wolf statue in my office. The owl painting in your mother’s art room…

“The falcon in my room,” I said. I thought more about what I’d seen in the house. “And the raven in your office.”

The raven. I was beginning to put the pieces together. My sister. His daughter, but not my mother’s. Brooke was his illegitimate child, but I didn’t know that until after my powers had been altered, and long after he’d been killed. He left me a letter inside a photo album, and he gave the photo album in a box to Stuart and told him I’d ask for it in the future. Stuart didn’t know what it was, otherwise he wouldn’t have taken it. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to confront my dad about it, to hold him accountable for how many lives he’d tampered with by not being truthful about what he’d done. I had so much to say, so many questions I never thought I’d have answered, and so much anger that I found out through a confession letter that my girlfriend’s best friend was my sister. The man had so much to answer for.

And not tonight, Finn. The owl took a few steps closer, brushing her soft feathers against my knee. One day you’ll have the opportunity to ask those questions, but not tonight. We have other things to talk about.

I stroked her black feathers with my fingers and she leaned her head into my palm. It calmed me, acknowledging my pain and reassuring me at the same time. I glared at the wolf and said, “Yeah, we’ll circle back to that.” I didn’t know when, but if she said we would, then I trusted that we would. “So why are you here tonight?”

The wolf moved closer yet again. Your powers, Finn. You need to know that even though they’re troublesome right now, you need to sort it out. Your genetic coding, for as different as we all are as humans, is flawless. It’s exceedingly rare, even amongst our own kind, for someone to possess both physical and mental powers. You were born with my physical powers–the telekinesis. Your birthright is the ability to control physical matter. That’s all anyone can ever have–what they were born with. The debacle of the ceremony the four of you concocted brought you into contact with the others’ powers, and it’s because of your superior genetics that they didn’t disappear. They will remain with you.

I turned to the owl again. “You mentioned that the first time I heard you. You said my genetic coding was flawless. How did you know that?”

You’re my child, Finn. From the moment you entered this world, I knew you were exceptional. The moment your father held you in his arms, he knew it, too. You opened your eyes, as ocean blue as his, and he knew. We knew you were going to be powerful beyond anyone’s expectations, but not like this.

I squinted and stared directly into the eyes of my father–eyes that were now exactly like mine. “Then why didn’t you raise me like that? Why did you insist that I should control my emotions and hide my powers? Why didn’t I grow up with the same influence everyone else had? They grew up in a community that developed their children’s gifts. You kept that from me.”

There were so many reasons. First, for you to know that you had that much potential, the makings of a prodigy, would’ve created an uncontrollable power imbalance. That can’t happen. It’s dangerous. You would’ve been hunted by those who would try to exploit you. Again, dangerous. Whatever decisions we made, right or wrong, were to protect you.

I looked at my hands, hoping to find some magical words written on them that would soundly debate their choices, but they were right. And while I couldn’t erase a lifetime of feeling like a freak, I could begin to learn how to be responsible for what I can do.

“So again,” I said, looking at the beautiful burnt amber of the owl’s face, “why now?”

Because it’s time. Now is the time to learn to control your gifts. You have people in your life who can protect you while you make mistakes. You’re undetected at Blackstone. Stuart has seen to that, and you need to trust him.

I glared briefly at the wolf before inspecting my hands again. “I trust Stuart. He’s been more of a father to me than anyone ever has.”

The wolf dropped his head and sighed. Again, we’ll address that later. For what it’s worth, I know you deserved more than what I gave you.

I had no reply for that. At least he understood that much. But as for my understanding and forgiveness, he’d have to fight for that later. Whenever later would be.

“So now what?” I asked. “I have these immense powers and still no one to train me. Stuart does all he can, but let’s be honest. He’s brilliant and talented, but I have more gifts than he knows what to do with. Sometimes he can only discipline me when he knows I’m using something I’ve taught myself just to mess with other people. He disconnected the Wi-Fi when he figured out that I learned to crash other people’s PlayStations, freeze lobbies, and swat stupid people.”

The owl cocked her head as if she’d heard an obnoxious sound. What’s swatting?

I grinned again, and then I heard my father’s laugh as the wolf sneezed. I took his praise for that one.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “You don’t want to know. Anyway, we were at kind of a standoff when I figured out how to get around his Wi-Fi sabotage. We were both smart enough to realize that it was just a power struggle at that point, and even with his omniscience, he didn’t know what to do with me. And here we are. That was yesterday.”

The owl brushed my knee with her wing. That’s why we’re here. You need to control your powers before you become too volatile and complacent. That’s a very dangerous combination.

“Again, how am I supposed to do that without proper training?”

The wolf sat up straighter and raised his chin with a blatant air of superiority. Leverage, Finn.

I raised my eyebrows, insinuating that I understood that he knew a thing or two about leverage.

The wolf snorted with irritation and ignored my attitude. Leverage one of your new powers to control the rest of them. You know how to teach yourself new things. Honestly, you always have, but now it’s automatic. Leverage that skill to teach yourself to control your new powers. It might sound simple, but you’ve taught yourself to do amazing things. Teach yourself to control the process instead of focusing on the power itself.

It took a moment for that to sink in. Basically, I can’t inherently skip to the end in executing something I wasn’t born with. Telekinesis is like breathing to me. Seeing things in the past isn’t. There was a time when telekinesis wasn’t like breathing, and as a child I broke a lot of things, but it was easy to learn because it was already a part of me. If I try to skip to the end when looking into the past, I don’t get it right and end up viewing situations inaccurately or altogether false. I see what I think I can see and take that as truth. If I tried to review the birth of Jesus, I’d possibly see that it happened in the Caribbean, and we know that isn’t true.

The wolf hopped up on the stone slab and sat next to me. His tail swished against my leg, and there seemed to be a great juxtaposition between the softness of his fur and the strength of it. Now that these powers are part of you, now woven into your DNA, you only need to feel the process of what it takes to carry out those tasks. It’s as if you were six years old again, learning not to break things. You’re six years old again, just learning each power because it’s now inside you.

“Then why can’t I control my telekinesis and pyrokinesis right now? I mastered them as a child.”

Because you think you can’t. Your evidence shows you that you can’t control anything, and there’s no grey area for you. It’s all or nothing. It makes you anxious, and your anxiety throws off your focus. Fast forward to the downward spiral, and here you are. You can’t focus, and you can’t leave Blackstone until you do. It’s quite a mess, really.

The owl turned to the wolf and hissed sharply, effectively giving him a solid scolding. On a strictly petty level, I resented the fact that the man made sense. Yes, it was a mess, but a mess of my own making and perpetuation. I knew what I needed to do now, and for a brief moment I allowed myself to feel happy because the man was finally training me. The owl took flight, and I didn’t panic. She was leaving the two of us alone so he could do what he’d spent most of my life avoiding.

I turned to the wolf and said, “Pick a power.”

He leaped off the slab and sat in front of me. Remote viewing.

“Okay,” I said. “Whose eyes am I looking through?”

The wolf paused for a moment. Stuart.

I swear to god, the owl appeared out of nowhere with a loud screech and sank her claws into the wolf’s head, drawing blood just behind his ear. I was beginning to think he knew more about my mom’s history with Stuart than I thought. I knew their history through my conversations with Stuart, but neither of us were sure if my dad knew.

The wolf didn’t yelp or growl, just shook off the tension and glared at the owl as she flew back into the tree line. Fine. You choose.

“Emily,” I said. If I couldn’t see her through FaceTime at that moment, maybe I could at least look through her eyes. And I knew she wouldn’t think of it as an invasion of her privacy. She wanted me to control my powers as much as I did.

Are you sure you want to know what your girlfriend is doing right now, a thousand miles away from you?

Again with the screech, but not the aerial assault. The owl was making her presence known and advising him not to be an asshole.

Fine. Emily. Tell me what she’s seeing.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the process, not just trying to put myself in her head. I controlled my breathing, pouring all of my focus into her eyes, slipping through into her vision. I didn’t like what I saw and immediately pulled away.

“Damn it! Wrong eyes!” I had inadvertently slipped into Thomas’s vision. Being Emily’s brother, living in the same house, it’s understandable that I might end up in the wrong space. But he’s my best friend, and I really didn’t want to see what he was doing at that moment. That shit’s personal. However, I made a mental note to put controls on his web browser just to mess with him.

Focus, Finn. Try again.

I had no room for error at that point. I had to dig deeper into my head to touch the part that controls remote viewing. It was a part of me now, and I needed to tap into that space. This is what my dad meant about controlling the power, not skipping to the end. I no longer focused on being behind Emily’s eyes. I concentrated on what remote viewing feels like, where it’s placed in my psychic library. I could see how it works and watched the process. My singular thought after that was Emily.

“She’s polishing silver,” I said, and I opened my eyes. “She does that when she’s upset. She’s polishing the tea set I gave her for Christmas last year.”

Do you want to call her to confirm?

“No,” I replied. “I don’t need to. There’s no question in my mind that I saw the right thing. Absolutely, one hundred percent, no doubt.”

What was different?

“I did what you told me to do,” I replied. “I searched for the part of my head that knows what remote viewing feels like, how it behaves. Then I only needed to think of her.”

Well done, Finn. Now that you know what it feels like, apply that to everything you know you now have. You taught yourself to look for something, not just assuming it’s there and that it should work. Don’t do it all at once. Master remote viewing, then move on.

With my confidence somewhat restored, I went back to what was like breathing for me. At the base of the wolf’s feet, several loose pebbles began to swirl, becoming trapped in his beautiful, black tail.

The wolf sprang up and backed away. Finn, control!

I looked at him and laughed. “That was control. Shake it off, Dad.”

The owl silently swooped in, landing gracefully on the stone slab, in between the wolf and me. She shook out her freckled, black feathers and moved closer.

Well done, Finn. Our work here is done for now. Practice what you’ve learned. You’ll be able to leave Blackstone once you’ve shown Stuart that you can be trusted to control yourself. It won’t be long. You’ll be able to go home, but you won’t be able to stay. You’ll still be vulnerable, and you’ll still be in danger.

“When will I not be in danger?” I asked.

The wolf sat down by the stone slab again. Not until you have the right people around you. Thomas will be your biggest asset. He always has been, but his role will become much larger than it is. You’ll learn more about that as time goes on. So will he. Be patient.

“Haven’t I been patient long enough?” I asked.

Yes, the owl replied. But at least now you know why. And now you know we’re watching over you, but don’t search for us. You won’t find us. We can’t stay.

My heart sank. I’d just found them again. I didn’t want to let them go. I turned and put my feet on the ground, and then I stood up. That was my biggest mistake, because then they disappeared. I was only able to see them when I was on the stone. I immediately jumped back on, but it was too late. They were gone. I didn’t get to tell them I loved them. I didn’t even get to thank them. In the blink of an eye, they had vanished. I knew better than to go looking for them. If my mom said they wouldn’t be found, that was final.

At least I had hope at that point. I’d been trained and I’d gotten answers to questions I didn’t even know I had. There was a lot to think about, and for the first time in months, I didn’t feel the need to run. I left the clearing, and I walked along the trail with my eyes open. As I emerged from the woods, I heard one last screech from the owl, and a long, mournful howl in the distance. I might not have been able to say goodbye, but they did, and that was enough for me.