The Flight of the Silvers (Silvers #1)(135)

The next night, he premiered his greatest special effect yet.

“Bear with me,” he said, as the others watched from chairs and sofas. David stood by the fireplace, pressing his temples with squinting concentration. His friends chuckled at his comical intensity until the air around him rippled like pond water. Suddenly the boy was gone.

Five grins melted away to hanging gapes. Theo shook his head in bafflement. “What . . . ? How did you . . . ?”

A disembodied laugh rang from the front of the room. “Guess it worked then.”

“Yeah, you’re completely invisible! Can’t you tell?”

“No. I see myself just fine over here. I can’t see any of you though.”

Once Theo stood up and saw the oddly skewed perspective of the fireplace, he understood the trick. David had created a flat ghost image of an empty living room and cast it in front of him like a movie screen. Hannah poked her head through the illusive wall and now glimpsed David clear as day.

“Obviously the deception falls apart under scrutiny,” he admitted. “But in a pinch, it could get us out of a tight situation.”

The actress didn’t share his success in breaking new ground. After two hours of running in high-speed circles and one afternoon skimming Temporis in a Nutshell, she lost her urge for higher knowledge. She soon fell back into the joys of cooking and sibling harmony.

“I’m fine with what I already know,” she told her sister as they diced vegetables together. “I’m not in the mood to discover any new complications. I sure as hell don’t need another case of time lag.”

Amanda shared her reluctance. She spent one hour moving paint cans around the basement before she realized the futility of practicing her tempis. She had perfect control of it when she was calm. It was stress that made her dangerous. She enlisted Hannah to teach her some relaxation techniques. They spent an hour each day on theatrical breathing exercises.

Annoyed by the Givens’ denial-and-yoga approach to handling their powers, Zack found Hannah in the kitchen and placed an open book on her cutting board, a mid-chapter spread from Temporis in a Nutshell. Hannah balked at the gruesome photos of people with rotted limbs. One poor casualty was mummified from the neck up.

“Eww. God. That’s disgusting. Why are you showing me that?”

“They’re all victims of rifting,” Zack explained. “You and I work with loose temporal energy. We’re like microwave ovens without the door. If we’re not careful, we’ll make more victims like this. It might even happen to someone we like.”

“What do you want me to do, Zack? I tried practicing. All I have is an on/off switch and a gas pedal.”

“If you’re stuck, go talk to the sensei.”

Hannah grudgingly took his advice and told David about her impasse. He scrutinized her from the porch swing, stroking his chin in scholarly contemplation.

“It’s an interesting issue. I have a theory about this temporic field you create. I’d like to test it, with your permission.”

“That depends,” said Hannah. “What does it involve?”

“A swimsuit, if you’re modest.”

An hour later, she soaked in the claw-foot bathtub, feeling self-conscious and skeptical as David watched her from the edge of the sink.

“Okay. Shift.”

She turned the key in her mind. Time slowed down all around her. The water in the tub took on the sluggish consistency of a milkshake. When Hannah dragged her arm across the surface, the liquid near her skin still rippled normally.

“Wow. You were right. I can see the field. It’s barely . . .”

David was still lost in a hazy blue languor, unable to comprehend her. She de-shifted.

“You were right. I saw it. All the water within a half inch of me was moving normally.”

“Huh. That’s a thinner field than I expected. The temporis seems to cling to you like spandex.”

“So does that mean I’m not the nasty threat Zack thinks I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t suggest hugging anyone in your accelerated state, but I don’t think you’re in danger of accidental rifting.”

“Wow. That’s great. Thank you, David. This was really clever.”

“We’re not done yet. I’m curious to see if you can expand the size of your field.”

Hannah crunched her brow at him. “Even if I could, why would I?”

“Because in case you haven’t noticed, we make a lot of hurried exits. With enough practice, who knows? Maybe you could shift us all.”

After five more baths, Hannah found the switch in her thoughts. Soon she was able to double the thickness of her temporic sheath, then quadruple it. By the end of September, she was able to shift all the water in the tub. Though the act of expanding her field was as easy as puffing her cheeks, she couldn’t maintain it for more than forty seconds without getting a blinding headache.

There was of course another downside to her new skill.

“I keep thinking about those photos you showed me,” she told Zack, as they rocked on the porch swing. “As much as I love the thought of us all zipping away like Road Runner, my new biggest fear is rifting one of you. Or all of you.”

Zack could relate. The image of Rebel’s withered hand still haunted him at night. Rather than explore new aspects of his talent, he worked to improve his aim. He spent hours each day attacking a family of bananas, ripening and unripening them from various distances.