The Intuitives(77)

“What else would it be?” Sam demanded.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t a factor,” Kaitlyn said, trying not to disagree with Sam directly, “but I know I was pretty tired. I didn’t feel as focused as I did last night. I think that might have had something to do with it.”

“I was feeling the same way,” Mackenzie added. “I felt the energy flowing into the blessing, but it was like I couldn’t hang on to it, or like I couldn’t direct it, or something. It kept… slipping away from me. I’m the one who’s supposed to be keeping up our protections. It was probably my fault.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure. Everything revolves around you, right? Maybe I opened the portal at the wrong time. Did you think of that?”

“Is that what happened?” Mackenzie asked, raising an eyebrow, but Sam just stared back at her, pursing her lips in disgust and refusing to answer the question.

“I wasn’t focusing well, either,” Daniel chimed in. He didn’t stop playing, choosing instead to speak over the soft notes of the guitar. Mackenzie had to admit that the tune was soothing, and she found herself grateful for his efforts.

“Can you always see what’s coming through the portal before it gets here?” Mackenzie asked Sketch, but he only shrugged.

“Sketch?” she prompted him again. “I know you don’t feel like talking right now, but this is kind of important.”

Sketch stopped drawing and glared up at her.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess. I thought everyone could, OK? I don’t always know what you guys can see and what you can’t. You see more stuff than most people, but I still see more stuff than you, and it’s not cool. I don’t like being the only one who sees everything.”

It was the longest speech Mackenzie had ever heard him make, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise, not sure what to do with it.

“I’m sorry, Sketch,” Kaitlyn said gently. “I can see how that would be hard.”

Sketch had bristled up in frustration, but Kaitlyn’s tone seemed to appease him. He dropped his shoulders back down, and after looking at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, he turned his attention back to his pad and started drawing again.

“I’m sorry, too,” Mackenzie added. “I didn’t mean to upset you. For what it’s worth, you really saved our butts in there today. You might not be glad you can see things we don’t, but I’m sure glad someone can. Whatever was coming for us, I’m glad you were there to warn us.”

“Yeah, she’s right,” Kaitlyn agreed, and Daniel added his own, “Me, too.” Sam was the only one who didn’t comment, but she didn’t say anything to deny it, either.

Whatever he was thinking, Sketch didn’t reply.

“Maybe we were just too tired,” Sam finally said, and Mackenzie looked at her in surprise.

“I’m still mad at Rush,” Sam clarified. “He shouldn’t have left. I’m just saying I was exhausted, too. I think summoning things probably… drains us, somehow. Like when you study really hard for a test, and then after you take it you feel like you’re ready to just pass out and sleep all day.”

“That makes sense,” Kaitlyn agreed. “I don’t think we should try to summon things on our own anymore, just in case. I don’t want to let Ammu down again.”

“I don’t think we should be doing it on our own, anyway,” Mackenzie added. “Not after today. If Sketch hadn’t been paying attention, who knows what might have come through.”

“Agreed,” Daniel said. Even Sam nodded, and Daniel finally stopped playing and looked pointedly at Sketch. When he didn’t look up, Daniel nudged him gently in the back with his foot.

“What? Oh, yeah.”

But he was still engrossed in his drawing, which was finally starting to coalesce into a meaningful image. When Mackenzie looked over his shoulder now, she was amazed to see a perfect replica of one of the photographs Ammu had shown them that morning: the door of Alexander’s tomb, intricately carved to depict the side view of a life-sized lion, rearing magnificently into the air, with a single, stark lightning bolt running it through.





42


Ammu



It was two more days before they returned to the summoning room. Ammu explained that extra “security measures” were being added after their close call with the unknown, which was just as well. The students of the ICIC finally had forty-eight hours to enjoy everything the resort had to offer—the pool even being open in the afternoons with Staff Sergeant Miller for a lifeguard—but they were too exhausted to do more than nap in the lounge chairs around the water’s edge.

The only one who really took advantage of the time off was Sketch, who pushed the kitchen staff to their limits after testing Christina’s offer to accept unusual meal requests and discovering that the dedicated chefs of the ICIC would at least attempt to create any dish he asked for, bar none. He immediately sat down and made a list, running through every concoction he could remember from the many books he had read, and then asking the others for more ideas.

As a result, they enjoyed a perpetual buffet, transitioning seamlessly from breakfast, to brunch, to lunch, to tea, to dinner, to supper, to dessert, to late night snacking, all courtesy of what they laughingly dubbed Sketch’s Smorgasbord Spectacular. It didn’t make them miss Rush any less, but even Sketch had to admit that eating seemed to be doing as much to restore his energy level as sleeping was. By the time their two days of vacation were up, they were all feeling much more themselves again.