“Yes,” I answer. Suddenly I feel slight, tiny pinpricks stabbing into my hand. I gasp and try to pull my hand away from him, but he holds on tight.
“Sorry, but you have to feel a slight pain to defend against it. Imagine that shield, call on your mark.” I do as he says, but still I can feel that same pinprick pain on my hand.
“It isn’t working,” I moan.
“Try to imagine the shield changing shape, imaging it growing, and surrounding you completely in a bubble. Tighten the bubble to your skin. Visualisation is key,” he coaches me on. I do as he says.
“Still not working,” I mutter.
“Call harder on your mark, the visualisation may have taken your concentration away from the mark itself.” I do as he says, and the pinprick pain stops. I open my eyes and smile at him.
“Got it,” I say happily. He releases his hold of my hand, and I rub it with my other one, still feeling tingly.
“You’re a quick learner,” he remarks, making me smile. I go to reply, when suddenly a gust of wind knocks me on my ass again.
“You ass!” I snap, and then a mortified expression takes over my face. Oops? I wait for him to tell me off for back chatting, but he just laughs.
“You really need to work on your awareness,” he says, and then laughs some more.
Yeah, laugh it up now, Mr. Daniels. I narrow my eyes on him. I’m going to get you back one day, and it won’t just be you landing on your perfect ass.
Chapter 13
Kenzie
Lying on top of my bedcovers stretched out like a starfish, I barely flinch as Kelly loudly lets herself into the room, clumsily slamming the door behind her.
“Hey, Kenz,” she greets cheerily.
I only groan in response. My whole body is aching. If I thought Mr. Daniels was going to take it easy on me after finding out that I had been zapped with pain, I was very wrong. We spent the next three hours with him effectively just knocking me to the ground a hundred or so times. He also was shooting jets of icy-cold water at me, which I was meant to dodge or block. My clothes were drenched, and my body was aching. I clearly did a sucky job at both of those things.
“That bad, huh? Yeah, East was saying that he was a slave driver,” Kelly says with a laugh. East? When was she with East? I try to stamp down on the jealous feeling that rises in me. He probably mentioned it when she was looking for me earlier. But, why did she go to East to find me?
“East?” I mumble, trying to make it sound casual.
“Yup! Easton was talking for a good hour about how hardcore Mr. Daniels is, total man-crush I think. Logan and Locke were the same. They seem to worship him like a god,” she chatters away, almost mindlessly. I try to ignore the pangs I feel at her mentioning each of them. Do I like them, too? Ugh, play it cool, Kenzie.
“Did they mention me at all today?” I ask, and then immediately cringe. Cool as a fucking cucumber.
“Oh. My. Gods!” Kelly says, her voice excited. Oh no. “You like them, don’t you!” she accuses.
“They’re attractive,” I grumble, wishing my bed would just swallow me whole.
“You know I’m not into them right, Kenz? Even if I was, you’d have nothing to worry about,” she replies.
“Of course, I would have something to worry about, you’re a knockout, Kells,” I say, and she narrows her eyes at me. I’m sure she is going to come back with some remark when my iPad starts buzzing. I groan as I roll on my side and grab it. I accept the Facetime call and two of my dads’ faces come into view, way too close to the camera. They’re so close I can just see two noses. Despite the fact they both have technomancy marks, they are useless with technology.
“Move back guys, you’re too close,” I say with a small laugh.
“Little Kennie! We miss you, baby,” Dad P says when they both move and hold their iPad a good distance away. I groan when I hear that nickname; they all call me it. Thank God that East doesn’t, he heard it enough. Dad P has wavy, blond hair, bright-green eyes, and a cheeky smile as he leans back a little. I know it’s likely he isn’t my real dad, but he has been in every way that’s possible.
“Hey Dad!” I say, and Dad L replies to me. Dad L has short, black hair and a serious expression. I would assume he is my biological dad, but who knows? My mum has dark hair too. Ryan has dark hair too, but he has bright-green eyes, so I always guessed he might be Dad P’s son. I laugh when I see him being shoved out of the way by Dad M, who comes to sit in the middle of them on the sofa. Dad M has brown hair, it’s messy with curls, and he is built like a giant. Their nicknames are based on their names, Mike, Pete, and Liam. I look at all three of them sitting there smiling. Where’s mum?
“How’s our little Kennie?” Dad M asks, leaning forward, so I can see his brown eyes in the camera.
“All good. Everything is—” I start to say, but I’m cut off.
“Don’t try that with me. We can all tell when you’re lying, Kennie and have done so since you were five, and you lied about who ate all the Smarties off your birthday cake, before your birthday. When were you going to tell us about your twelve marks?” Dad M says, narrowing his eyes on me in a way that tells me I’m in trouble. Shit, who told him?
I’ve been ignoring my brother’s calls in case he tells them, and they panic. One look at all their worried faces, and I know I was right not to tell them.
“I know it’s a lot of marks, but come on, it’s not that bad,” I answer, and they all look at me like I’m stupid. I might be. I glance at the door as Kelly slides out of it and mouths ‘later’. She’s just abandoning me to my fate. I glare at her, which just makes her laugh as she leaves.
“Do you know how many marked I treat in the hospital that lose control of their powers and just about survive?” Dad P asks.
“Yes, Dad,” I answer, and he continues on.
“Too many, and every goddamn day there is more. Our kind can’t handle that amount of power without losing control, and I’m worried. I don’t want to treat you for losing control or lose you altogether. So, you need to study and keep your emotions in check.” I don’t know about my emotions, but my hormones need controlling around all the sexy guys here. Not that I’m going to enlighten any of my dads to that particular fact.
“Yes, Mike is right, you need to focus,” Dad P says, nodding just before my mum comes into view of the camera.
“Oh, Kennie, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now? I got a frantic call from your brother telling us about your marks. Everyone is talking about you and how we could finally find out what the twelfth power is,” she says as she sits on Dad P’s lap.
“I don’t know what it is. Mr. Daniels is doing classes with me, so I can learn,” I say, deciding to use the word ‘classes’ and not ‘detention’. I don’t need them freaking about that, too.
“I want you to be careful, there has been—” my mum starts.
“That’s enough, love,” Dad M cuts her off.