Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 39: Breaking the Vase

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    Break, I thought, focusing on the golden vase on the marble platform in front of me. My arm was outstretched toward the object, but there wasn't an inkling of any power releasing from my fingertips. Ace and I were in an extension of his library, a large, cylindrical area with bookshelves as high as I could see and balconies with doors leading into other secret rooms. We were on the bottom floor, where Ace had moved furniture against the walls to give us space. Break. Break, damn it.

"Relax your expression, ma chére," Ace instructed, twisting the various rings around his fingers. Ace stood about ten feet to my right, leaning against a bookcase with his golden staff propped beside him. "You're tensing your face, which means the rest of you is tense as well. Try to visualize your light becoming a weapon, such as a fireball, or a bullet, or a knife. Whatever you prefer to wield. That might help you."

I tried to visualize a knife. Nothing. A gun. Nadda. One of those Medieval spike ball things with a chain. No dice. I dropped my hand and heaved in a deep breath, wiping sweat from my forehead. "I thought we were getting Taco Bell. This is just putting me in a worse mood than I already was."

"We'll get Taco Bell once you break the vase," Ace promised, just like he'd said over and over again for the past hour. At least he was a lot more patient than Coach Grim Asshole, who'd be making me do pushups by now for giving lip.

I brought my head back in frustration and looked at the ceiling. "Can't we do something else? Nothing is progressing. Nothing is happening. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same result––"

"Leads to discipline," Ace finished.

"No, no that's not where I was going with that," I laughed out derisively. "At some point, you throw the towel in. Or the light beam. Or lack thereof, in this case. You know what I mean."

"Again," Ace said, his violet eyes calm and steady but his voice firm enough to jar me into alertness. "You can do this. Don't give up because you are struggling. To learn is to try and to fail. Things can't come easy in this life, or else they aren't worth anything at all."

My anger didn't stem from disagreeing with him, because I didn't. Ace was right. But I so sick and tired of not growing with my mysterious powers and so sick of this goddamn drill.

Rolling off the tension in my shoulders, I shook a cramp out of my wrist and raised my hand toward the vase. In the silence of concentration, all I could think about was Death. I kept imagining our same exact lesson with the vase, how he had stood behind me and all I could focus on was him. The turmoil of emotions I kept trying to push down resurfaced and my vision blurred. My fingers trembled before I dropped my arm with a curse.

"Again," Ace instructed.

I turned my glare onto the warlock. "What is up with you people and breaking fucking fine china?" I demanded. "I'm done for today. I really am."

Ace leaned back against the shelf behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Then give up."

"You don't get it. All this training was supposed to prepare to enter the portal with Death. There's no point of any of it now. He'll be dead, and it's not like I can save the day all by myself." Even saying that out loud made me anxious. Good lord, how did Wonder Woman kickass without getting a panic attack before? "Unless there's a bathroom involved, then I might be able to explode a toilet in the nick of time."