Hope renews itself

[brightrosefox]

Here's a scene from Chapter Sixteen . . . the boys learn what binds them deeper than a fraternal twinship. This scene comes on the heels of the girls discovering the depth of their own bond: More than sisters of the heart. Sounds kind of familiar. And yes, the scene does need work and editing, but suggestions and critiques are always welcome.

Cautiously, Ian dissipated the shields around the computer, while Thomas strengthened the ones around the house and the surrounding area. They knew the girls were just at the edge of the forest path. Luckily the surrounding area extended half a mile into those woods.

            “I hate not feeling safe,” Tom muttered. “And despite everything we’re doing, he still gets in. Somehow. Maybe not him, but something.” He gripped his head in his hands, clenching his hair. “I wish Mom and Dad were here. I wish Alistair were here.”

            Ian closed his eyes, pained. A tiny dagger kept twisting in his chest, making his eyes water and his throat constrict. The scars on his back burned beneath the bandages. Tom had always seemed like the “little brother” despite the mere three minute birth difference. Tom had always turned to Ian. Ian had no idea what to say now. He needed Dana, her quiet strength. Her warmth. Part of him—that instinctive lover’s touch—reached out for her. At the edge of consciousness, he leaned toward a deep blue swirl of abyss and (not yet) paused. A white spark flared until he squeezed his eyes shut, and behind his eyelids he saw what looked like a white horse…

            “Unicorn,” he whispered. His eyes flew open.

            “What?”

            He looked over. Tom was staring at him.

            “Sorry,” he said. “I tried to touch Dana on instinct and ran into…something.”

            Thomas leaned forward in his chair. “You mentioned a unicorn. You saw Kara, didn’t you?”

            Ian nodded. “She was beautiful.”

            Tom smiled. “Of course she is.”

            “Tom, do you think we can do this?”

            Silence crystallized the air between them. Thomas blinked. You’re. . .asking me? Too stunned for voice. Then, hoarsely, “I don’t know.” But underneath that, there was that fluttering uncertainty, younger brother watching from behind. Before he even knew what he was doing, Ian carefully dipped into his twin’s mind and pulled the Tortoise slowly, slowly, slowly, to the surface.

            It happened in different speeds, different times, different dimensions, all at once. The Dragon woke groggily and, sensing the extraordinary surge of sudden power, flared through Ian’s blood. Tom was sitting ramrod straight, almost vibrating. His eyes were white at the edges, so wide it looked painful. Shimmering emerald energy flickered across his skin. And then it rose above him, the chelonian shape easily defined and diamond-edged. The Tortoise was so huge they could see the tiny scars and the texture of its skin. The black eyes were pools, deeper than a bottomless lake at midnight. The green of skin and shell was glazed with iridescence, like Ian’s avatar but more real, almost tangible. The beak curved into a sword point. But it was the sense of protection, the shell, the ultimate fortress, the green beginning of an uncertain world, that soaked the air with power older than their perception of life itself.

Thomas leaned his head back and seemed to turn his sight inward to stare at the full force of his own avatar. His mouth lay open, eyes rolled back and dilated as power slammed into him from all sides. Lowering his head, he fixed his golden chocolate eyes on Ian.

            “What. . .?” and his voice was deeply overlapped by the avatar. Power like nothing Ian had ever sensed saturated the entire room.

            Tom made a strange mewling sound, extremely unlike him, and suddenly erupted into a howl. His chair exploded, and his body started to spasm in mid-air. The wide, translucent rainbow shell of his avatar shimmered around him, and as Ian watched it seemed to open, like a vortex, sucking all the power in the room back into itself.

            Thomas fell, face first, with a loud smack.

            “Oh, crap. . .” Ian sprang forward and crouched beside him. “Are you okay?”

            Lifting his head, Tom groaned and pressed his right hand to his mouth and nose. “By dose is bleeding,” he muttered. “Don’ t’ink its broken. Ow.”

            Ian couldn’t help but smile as he helped his twin stand. “Go get some ice. I’m sorry I did that, but I don’t think I could have helped it.”

            Thomas waved him away. “Fo’get it. I needed it.” He went to the kitchen, and Ian heard him rummaging in the freezer.

            Sighing, Ian turned back to the computer. Rather than read through the files again, he decided it would be faster to just interface telekinetically. Closing his eyes, he pressed his hands to the sides of the terminal, opened his mind wide, and let the information rush over him.

            Several minutes later, he jerked back, eyes wide open, face drained of color. Tom had returned, and nearly dropped the ice pack. “What? Ian, what the hell? What’s wrong?”

            Ian stared at him, horror scrawled across his eyes. “We’ve been wrong,” he said hoarsely. “About what Jeremy and the Shadow want. We were wrong, Tom. Dana’s in a hell of a lot more trouble than we thought.”