The Keepers of Azera ( Book 1 of the Keepers Trilogy)

Chapter 18

It's Training Day. It used to be my favorite day, but knowing what Matilda's done, I wish I have a different Trainer to work with.

"Today, we'll be learning how to control vividly felt flashbacks," she says. I don't know if it's just me, but she seems even nastier since last Training Day. I don't think it helps that my face is probably blank, because I have no idea what "vividly felt flashbacks" is suppose to mean.

"Those flashbacks," James mutters to me, and I nod. "Like the one I had a few weeks back?"

"Yes, like the one you had a few weeks back. In the next couple weeks, you should be able to learn how to summon them on whim, like any other flashbacks."

I think about the bloody beach and decide that I would probably never "summon them on whim" unless it's something pleasant, like a nice field. Perhaps the one in the "Field of Dreams."

If such a field exists and I'm not acting like a child.

"That sounds interesting," I say, trying to keep my voice as polite as possible. It isn't an easy task.

"Good. Like any other flashback, it's easy when you know what you're looking for. For instance, if you wanted to see, let's say, a certain city, you can close your eyes and see the flashback, can you not?"

"Yes. So it's like any other flashback?" I ask.

"Only a little harder," James interjects. "You have to think about more than the sights. You have to focus on the sensations around you, like the feel of the wind, or smells, or even grass under your feet."

Matilda nods. "It's a little more in depth than any other flashback. However, there's even more. You could stand anywhere and conjure a flashback as easy as replaying a memory, but with vivid flashbacks, there's time travel involved."

"You mean, when I jump ahead half a second during the flashback repeatedly?"

"You have to focus on several things at once. The image, the sensations, and traveling forward. It may take you a couple tries to fully conjure the flashback," Matilda explains.

"When will I be able to try this?" I ask.

"Hopefully, this afternoon," James says, sneaking a glance at Matilda. "You learn fast, but we're a bit behind."

Matilda huffs through her nose. "There are some possibly consequences we must go over, of course, before you try."

"Like?"

"Not serious consequences," James says. "Just simple things, like jumping too far ahead, or the inability to pull up the flashback. It's really so much consequences, really, as mistakes you'll make when you first try."

"Thanks, James."

He shrugs. "We're here to teach you everything before you screw up."

"I'll try not to."

Matilda looks at the clock. "This is very simple concept to teach, but a very hard one to actually practice. James, if you could-"

The rest of her words are drowned by cheers. I look around to see a pretty big fireball that Alyssa's controlling.

"Pyrokinesis is such a cool ability," I say admirably.

"We'll start practicing now, Callie," James says. I sigh and turn my attention back to the lesson. "So, I focus on imagery and time travel at the same time?"

He nods. I sigh again and close my eyes. I've traveled through time before-all of one minute forward- but I'm not terribly great at multi-tasking. I think of a field, the scent of lavenders, the sound of children laughing as they play in the field. I think of a warm breeze. Surely there has got to be a scene like that out there. I focus on it for a few seconds, then I try to time travel.

The next thing I know, I'm sprawled on the floor after smacking my head off the table. James bends down and helps me up. "You alright?"

I nod. "Not a great first attempt, was it?"

"You messed up by a couple seconds. No biggie," James says.

"I'm not quite sure I can do this," I say.

"Pfft. This was your first try. Come on. Once again."

But by the end of the day, I've only been able to pull up one of those flashbacks, and it was for a second. But James is pleased. Matilda, not so much.

"I think you'll get it quickly," he says.

"You sure or are you just trying to make me feel better?" I ask.

"Both," he admits. Matilda just snorts.

We both go into the dining hall and accept bowls of soup. It's hot in the dining hall, so I tug the zipper on my turtle neck tank top down a bit just to expose my neck. I wish I had pulled on a different shirt this morning-this one's made of a yellow latex-style material that doesn't breathe very well and the collar comes up to my jaw. It's restrictive, and I don't like it.

"So what will we do tomorrow?" I ask James.

He shrugs. "Read books and watch films. Maybe play a game. We don't really do much, do we?"

"No," I admit, but just then, Matilda comes walking over. I frown. I don't want to know what she's planning.

"Hello, Matilda," James says pleasantly. "What's going on?"

"I just came over to inform you that tomorrow all Guardians are required to attend a meeting," she says just as lightly.

"Oh? For what?" 

"Training methods, mostly," Matilda says.

"Like what? The pace that they're learning?" I say. I feel like this meeting is going to be an attack on James's justified complaints.

Matilda raises her eyebrows. "Meaning?"

"Like certain Trainers slowing down Keepers," I say.

I think James gives me a dirty look, but I don't notice, because what Matilda does next is shocking: She leans across the table and slaps me across the face.

The whole dining room goes dead silent as the sound of the smack carries across the room. Everyone turns to look at us as I stumble over the bench, my hand holding my cheek, tears burning in my eyes. I stare at Matilda in numb shock, then I turn and run, ignoring James calling, "Callie! CALLIE!" before he starts yelling about abuse at Matilda.

I don't know where my feet carry me until I find myself curled on one of the dust-covered couches on the first level. I gasp for breath between sobs. I bury my face in my knees and cry hard. My cheek throbs so much. I can't believed that Matilda would do that.

I feel a blast of warmth, and I look up. The metal door blocking me from the surface opens, and someone steps onto the stairs. He or she turns to lock the trapdoor again, and when they turn around, I gasp at the familiar face of-

"Poppa?" I say incredulously.