Chapter 1

'Those who know, do. Those that understand, teach.' –Aristotle

Tom thumbed the edge of the book's pages, delicately slipping a finger underneath a page and flipping. He's read this one a dozen times already and was now merely skimming it. Another philosophy book, one in a line of books the orphan's teacher had assigned him.

Mr. Canmore.

The most confusing adult he'd ever met so far in his short miserable life. Canmore arrived here months ago and stayed. Their previous teachers couldn't be bothered to impart enough material to even make up a full subject, much less devote months teaching unwanted orphans. At most, they stayed for a few weeks before they deemed their moral and philanthropic obligation to them was fulfilled and went away. This was the first time he or them, had ever received such comprehensive and complete tutelage across the board. Canmore didn't hold back anything from them. From letters to calculus to financials, he taught them things they didn't know and didn't think existed. The others floundered, overwhelmed by an adult taking such singular focus in their education. But not Tom. Tom thrived in the plethora of new information, gleeful, though he'd never admit it aloud. He advanced well ahead of the others, empowered by new challenges and Canmore noticed.

The others regard him with jealousy for having Canmore's attention and let them! He worked for and deserved to have it anyway. They were envious little miscreants clamoring for attention and pity. Of which, Canmore had none to spare. That was another thing Tom noticed. The brown-haired man was smart, cool and collected, with a superior air of confidence about him. He dressed well all the time and spoke well. Words rolled off his tongue like honey and he was handsome—if the matron and female staff's tittering and stares were any indication.

The first day, Canmore regarded them with blank eyes that brooked no argument and commanded obedience. Robert, an older orphan, made the mistake of trying to usurp the man's command in class like he'd done to his predecessors before him. It only took being the focus of a pair of chilly amber eyes and a near silent hiss before he cowed. Pathetic. Where many adults made a show of false sympathy at the poor orphans; or thinly veiled disdain at their unwashed appearances; Canmore treated them dispassionately and fairly. He took Tom under his wing in the following weeks, giving him more advanced lessons that left the other children in the dust. Once a week, he would give Tom a book to keep. A fortnight ago, it was a book about chemistry. The week before, he gave Tom what he currently held in his hands; A Treatise of Human Nature by David Hume. Today, he would give him another. They were always superior to the torn and smudged books that he had to share with the orphans and far more interesting in subject. He liked to smell the ink of the books' pages and press his fingers against their hard covers.

Tom shut the book in his hands and carefully laid it on top of a stack of other books. They were arranged neatly on his bedside table. His small collective library, though it would grow given time. When the others saw it, they complained to Missus Cole about favoritism and she had made a tizzy about him receiving gifts to Canmore, complaining about his misbehavior. His strange and unnatural gifts. How he hated that vile woman and those moronic imbeciles! Instead of listening to them, Canmore waved her concerns away.

"You shouldn't put stock in the jealous words of children Missus Cole," said Canmore, with a raised brow. "I haven't seen an ounce of madness or strangeness in Tom. He's demonstrated a need for challenging subjects that put him ahead of his peers. A very intelligent boy for his age, a prodigy I would say, and an orphan. It would be remiss of me, an educator, to not foster a love of knowledge that could secure his future on the account of his envious peers, wouldn't you agree? Of course, if the others were to show the same need for advanced lessons, I would give it to them."

At Canmore's unapologetic reply, Missus Cole had pursed her lips in displeasure and excused herself. She couldn't push the issue lest she angered the man and caused him to leave. The others tried but they couldn't usurp his position with Canmore either. He would never allow it, not like before. Before, he didn't care. What favor they wanted with subpar teachers who couldn't be bothered to properly teach, he let them have. But not Canmore, a man who wasn't fooled by their pathetic attempts to gain favor. Even he recognized Tom's superiority and maturity. And Tom, well Tom afforded the man some measure of respect. Canmore was the first person he met that he could honestly say was worthy of it. He understood knowledge was power, and he freely gave it to Tom. One day, Tom would leave these bleak and grey walls, and he would take it and the books with him. He would put them to use. He would search for his father. A powerful and intelligent man, he imagined—like Canmore. But special like him.

Tom heard the swing of a rusty metal gate and glanced outside of his bedroom window. Spotting the familiar figure of his teacher wrapped in a black coat, he took his cue. Lessons would be starting soon.

Today's lesson was Roman history. Tom went through the familiar motions and sat in the corner to read. Occasionally, he would glance up from his text to observe the lecture Canmore was giving. Jealous looks were thrown at him and he smirked behind his book. When class was over, they dispersed for lunch. Canmore handed him a new book and told him there was no advanced lesson as he would be speaking with Missus Cole. Taking the book, he went to the mess hall. He ate his pitiful portion of dry rice and chicken, caressing the new book next to him and ignoring the other orphans' looks. As he was walking back to his room, Missus Cole called him into her office. He trailed after her and entered, finding Canmore sitting in a chair.

The matron had a conflicting look of disdain and relief. She spoke.

"Tom today is Mr. Canmore's last day with the orphanage. He will be taking a long sabbath and as such will no longer be teaching."

She fell silent, saying nothing more. Tom's eyes narrowed. Looking to Canmore, he met the man's gaze that revealed nothing. After a pause, Canmore spoke.

"I want to adopt you Tom. What do you think of it?"

Tom said nothing, staring at the man blankly but his mind was racing. This was Missus Cole's doing! She wanted to get rid of him!

At Tom's silence, Canmore said. "Missus Cole if you don't mind."

The matron pursed her lips in displeasure, clearly indignant at being dismissed from her own office but said nothing. Favoring them with another look, she left. Before Canmore could continue Tom interrupted.

"I refuse," he said coolly. He didn't want to be adopted. He didn't owe Canmore anything and he didn't need a father. Adults couldn't be trusted, he's seen that. Children were adopted and returned. Some returned with hidden bruises or former shadows of themselves. He still remembered Carol, a girl one year his senior adopted two years ago when she was nine. She was bright eyed, pretty blond, and popular. She came back with eyes that darted around in fear and shying away from the touch of men. No! He refused to be adopted. Better the enemy he knew than the one he didn't.

Canmore didn't get indignant at his refusal or lack of excitement.

"You're free to do so," he said. "However, you may want to reconsider."

Not likely, thought Tom disdainfully. But he froze at Canmore's next words.

"You're not the only one with strange gifts Tom," said Canmore. At Tom's frozen silence, the corners of his lips pulled up into a smile. "You can do things others can't do. Things they can't explain, other than label them unnatural."

Canmore stood from the chair and came to a crouch in front of Tom. Tom fought the urge to retreat. The man lifted his right hand in front of him. After a beat, Tom watched as a ball of light formed in the palm of his hand, smaller than a marble. But so bright! He stared in shock until it disappeared and then favored Canmore with the same expression. His fingers were trembling.

"You—?" He cut himself off. Of course. Of course! In the billions of humans that were living today, it was arrogant of him to assume that he and his father were the only ones with this power. Unless,

"You're my father?" He asked eagerly. Canmore eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"I've sired two children, both of them were girls," he said. "They were nothing like you or I. In fact, you are the first person I've encountered that was like me."

Tom shoved his disappointment down and schooled his expression. This changed everything. Canmore was like him. Special! That meant he had to go with him. It would be the height of foolishness not to do so. He could learn from him. That ball of light couldn't be the only thing he knew.

It was hard not to contain the gleeful smile, and he didn't. Canmore returned it.

"I take it that you accept," he said.

Swallowing, Tom replied. "Of course."

"Then," he said standing, Canmore called for Missus Cole and told her to pull up the adoption papers. They filled out the necessary paperwork and Canmore signed. No sooner was his signature placed, that the matron snatched and filed it away. She was no doubt eager to be rid of Tom and the feeling was mutual.

Tom barely restrained himself from running to his room. Packing what clothes he had and his books, he shoved them in a sack. He left everything else behind without a backwards glance. The grey bedding, the grey walls, the aging drawer, the dirty window, and the pilfered toys he'd stolen from the other orphans when they tested him. He'd promised one day that he'd leave this place and that day had come. Not in the way he'd preferred but he'd take what was given. As he made his way to the main entrance of the orphanage, he was treated to burning looks of jealousy and in some cases, tears. Obviously, the word had gotten around. Hah! Once, they'd jeered that he'd never be adopted because he was unnatural. The biggest irony, the handsome intelligent normal man they adored was unnatural like him.

Canmore stood by the entrance in his black coat, teaching bag in one hand and adoption papers in the other. He nodded at Tom and beckoned him to follow, leading him down the steps to a waiting automobile and driver. After settling in the back seat next to Canmore, Tom took one last glance at Wool's Orphanage.

Good riddance.