Chapter 5
The breeze caused goosebumps to spring up on his soaked skin and powerful shivers to travel up and down his spine. He stared at the brown mahogany door in front of him, before his trembling hand reached up to grasp the handle. Before it could do so, however, the door opened, and Ned Wakefield stood in front of him, car keys in hand, obviously about to leave the house.
"Steven!" Ned exclaimed. "Where have you been all this time? And why are you wet?"
Steven stepped into the house, dropping his sodden backpack by the door. "Long story," he murmured.
He made way for the stairs, before his father's angry voice stopped him. "Wait and answer me, young man."
Steven turned around to look into his father's furious face. "It's nothing, Dad," he insisted tiredly.
"I was about to go looking for you. It's eight, Steven. You should have been here three hours ago, dry."
Steven frowned and opened his mouth to retort, when an almighty sneeze interrupted him. His mother, who had been silently standing by all the time, stepped forward in concern. "We'll discuss about this later," she said firmly. "Meanwhile, Steven, you'd better go change into dry clothes, before you catch something serious."
Silently thanking his mother, and more the timely sneeze, he nodded and went up the stairs, avoiding his father's stern gaze. Once outside his room, he pushed open the door and went in, drops of water, which were dripping from his person, tracing the path he walked.
After having changed into something dry, he flopped down on the bed, mind too numb with exhaustion to even feel any clear emotion, other than an uncomfortable, choking rise of confusion, awe and foreboding.
As he ran a hand through his still wet hair, he remembered the wave that he had caused; the panic that had flooded his chest at the thought that he might have created an accidental tsunami that might just swallow Sweet Valley. He had just barely managed to avoid a disaster, though getting completely soaked in the process. He could now really appreciate Kal's comments about 'a lot more refinement' and taking things step by step. He had had barely enough power to prevent the water from flooding the town; it would take a lot more power and practice to use the water's power to his advantage. A chill went down his spine, and it wasn't because of the cold.
His over-enthusiasm and impulsiveness had nearly put ten thousand people in grave danger.
Steven sighed and turned around on the bed to lie on his stomach. He had lost much of his appetite, and besides, he felt he just couldn't face his parents then. What could he say to them? What would pass through his words that might give even a hint to how his life had changed?
Steven rubbed his face, trying to get his bearings. Maybe I'm being too hyper about this.
The familiar sound of the whirlwind of light, which heralded Kal's appearance from the book, interrupted Steven's musings. The firsk soon stood staring at him in polite, but questioning silence.
"You do not look too well," Kal said finally, after a long silence.
Steven, now on his back, staring at the ceiling, spoke. "I tried out my… powers today."
"Indeed?"
"Yeah." Steven told his 'advisor' of his experience on the beach.
To his surprise, the firsk laughed. Little raspy giggles escaped the firsk's mouth before Kal was able to control himself. "Forgive me," he said, "but the resemblance to Lady Alisa was rather overwhelming." He leaned forward, the amusement replaced by earnestness. "I will you give you the same advice I gave to her when she was faced with similar circumstances: Never regret your experiments. Instead, learn from them. You may have failed to get satisfactory control over the ocean wave you generated, but a whole new scope has been added to your powers, which will, of course, accelerate your progress."
Kal winked. "Provided you don't start ground control next. You might start an earthquake."
When met with a stare, Kal put up his scabby four-fingered palms. "I was, what you would call, kidding, yes? I see this has affected you more than I thought." He rocked himself back and forth on his knobbly legs. "Never deny your destiny, Steven, or the path that leads to it. Instead, make the most of it. You have the Potential to triumph within you; let not confusion or fear drown your soul. You are the son of the McClaires and the Wakefields; courage and success runs in your blood- you can overcome petty fear, I'm sure of it."
Silence prevailed for a while as Steven pondered these words.
Okay, this is it, he thought, with a sudden beam of clarity that penetrated the fog of confusion in which his mind was suspended. This is what I have to do, and I'll do it.
"Well, Kal," he said, gazing at the firsk, "You're the one who's supposed to be my guide, right? So go ahead and guide. Tell me what I have to do next."
Kal gave him an affectionate smile. "Of course," he said. "I was only waiting for you to ask."
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The overcast sky rumbled and roiled, promising a heavy shower in the very near future. The wind, as chilly as it could ever get, terrorised those who hadn't had enough foresight to don warm clothes, which, practically was everybody.
Except one.
This man walked on, hands in the pockets of his voluptuous trench coat, unmindful of the weather. Many disjointed thoughts floated in his head, but he wasn't aware anything other than reaching his destination.
Soon, he turned into one of those dark, pungent, unspoken-of alleyways that were an inevitable by-product of rapid industrialisation. In relative safety from the imminent rain, thanks to half-corroded roofs of the grimy windows above, he threw back the hood of the trench coat. Blinking, almost as if just realising where he was, he cast a belligerent gaze round the alley. Finally, he managed to get his bearings. Opening his mouth, he started to speak, possibly to himself.
"The Raydevils have been awoken. May I be so bold as to ask what warrants this awakening?"
The handsome young man waited with barely hidden nervousness, for, seemingly, a reply. Sweat dripped down his strong, aristocratic forehead and nose to splash on his muscled chest, covered by a thin cotton T-Shirt. Hardly a nanosecond after the drop had fallen, a deep voice sounded from within the dark bowels of the alley.
"The saviour exists."
The simple reply caused palpable surprise and even fear to bloom on the young man's face. "The saviour?" he sputtered. "But—McClaire… she's dead!"
"She had borne an heir, seventeen years ago. And now, he has realised his powers."
The man grew very, very still. "And my purpose, Lord?"
"You know it very well, my loyal Raydevil." The very darkness itself seemed to smile, as the voice continued.
"Kill Steven Wakefield."
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The cool air of the air conditioner greeted Jessica Wakefield as she walked into one of the swankiest boutiques in the Sweet Valley Mall. Lila Fowler, her rich best friend, walked a few strides ahead of her, her manner confident. Lila had come here so often that it almost felt like a second home. To Jessica, though, the place was a treat to the window-shopper, but the price tags could instill disbelief in anybody's heart.
Except Lila Fowler, of course.
Daughter of the owner of the sprawling and highly successful Fowler Enterprises, she was extremely rich. Too rich, in fact. Most of the time she did behave like a spoiled rich kid, but Lila could display sudden flashes of empathy that others would have thought impossible of her. But then, even those occasions were just that: occasional.
Jessica had first been drawn to her, way back in elementary school, because of her incredible money-spending habits, her great fashion sense and the great parties that she threw. Then later, despite occasional flashes of jealousy, Jessica had become one of the only true friends Lila had. Jessica knew her friend very well, and with concurring interests in many matters, especially fashion and boys, she and Lila had a great time together. Even their extreme sense of competitiveness did not hinder their friendship. Not too much, at least.
"Josh Andrews asked me out yesterday," Lila told her, browsing through a collection of ridiculously priced miniskirts. She pulled out a slinky black one, and eyed it with scrutiny. "I accepted." She smiled happily, closing her eyes for a moment, envisioning their date. "It's tomorrow, so I'd better buy something good for it."
Jessica felt another twang of jealousy. Josh was one of the most popular and sought-after guys in school. She tried to push down those feelings, and be happy for her friend. "I think that's great, Lila," she said, with forced enthusiasm. "I'm sure it'll be wonderful." Before she could ask where they were going, she spotted Bruce Patman coming their way and nearly groaned out loud.
Bruce Patman was a tenth grader, and also belonged to one of the richest families in Sweet Valley, just as rich as the Fowlers. Bruce and Lila were always at loggerheads with each other, and often, with his obnoxious and self-confident manners, or to simply put it, arrogance, really got on everybody's nerves. She just hoped he was not coming to start a fight or anything.
By now, Lila had noticed his advancing toward them, and narrowed her eyes. But Bruce looked far from being eager to pick a fight. In fact, with his handsome face pale and his circles underneath his eyes, he looked as if he hadn't slept at all the previous night.
I bet he's still pissed that Steven's performance completely humiliated his own on court, Jessica thought smugly. Though Bruce had been a star player in the Sweet Valley Middle School basketball team, he had to struggle to hold his position on the SVH team. It was well known that he and Steven weren't exactly on amiable terms with each other, the main, and only, reason being that Steven's basketball prowess completely outclassed Bruce's.
"Lila," he said, "What are you doing here?"
Talk about dumb questions. Jessica rolled her eyes.
"I'm shopping," Lila snapped. "I hope that, by any chance, isn't bothering you?"
"Yeah, whatever," Bruce said distractedly. He cast a vague glance around the shop, as if not sure of what to say, or how to say whatever he'd wanted to say.
He cleared his throat. "Uh, Lila, I--" He fiddled with his gold watchstrap uncomfortably.
Jessica realised he hadn't seen her yet, and expecting an exciting scene, quickly ducked behind an array of designer shirts, spying on the two. "Out with it," Lila said irritably.
"Lila," he said finally, "You free tomorrow night? I mean… um, shall we go out someplace?"
Jessica nearly choked on her surprise. Bruce Patman was asking Lila Fowler out on a date! Well, well… it would be interesting to see Lila's reaction to this.
Lila was, predictably, dumbfounded for a few moments. Whatever she had been expecting Bruce to say, it definitely hadn't been this. But you couldn't expect a Fowler to remain dumbfounded for long. She quickly regained her bearings and fixed him with her best disdainful stare. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but I'm afraid I have to decline. You see, I'm already going on a date with Josh Andrews tomorrow night."
Bruce's eyes flashed, not accustomed to such derisive denials. "You're going with that wimp!"
Lila's voice grew icy. "That's more than what can be said about you, Bruce."
Bruce folded his arms, the flame practically burning in his eyes now. "Fine," he said. "Thank you for rescuing me from a fit of suicidal madness." He shook his head. "I can't believe I even asked you, of all people."
Lila's eyebrows arched. "Oh? So you consider yourself so handsome that girls will just fall at your feet the moment you ask them?" She snorted. "Get a life, man."
Jessica was completely enjoying herself. Truly, Bruce's and Lila's spats were a unique form of entertainment.
"You know what? I do," Bruce snapped.
Lila smirked. "Well, Mr. Attractive, let's see if you can at least score more than a few baskets in the championship finals against St. Joe High."
Jessica, unable to resist, came out of her 'hiding' place. "He can't, as long as Steven's there."
Bruce stiffened as he eyed her. "Wakefield," he growled. "Eavesdropping, were you?"
"Don't change the subject," Jessica said nonchalantly. "The fact is you can hardly hope to become the star of the game, because Steven's there to take the title." Jessica often considered her brother a total pain in the neck, but at times like this, she was truly proud to say that Steven Wakefield was her elder brother.
Or step-brother, echoed from some distant corner of her brain.
Jessica pushed those unpleasant memories away as Bruce spoke. "Don't get too complacent about him. He's nothing but a flash in the pan. Why, he completely freaked out in practice a couple of days back."
Jessica's eyes hardened. "Let your performance speak for yourself, Bruce."
Lila, having then selected what she wanted to buy, it inevitably being one of the most expensive selections in the boutique, strode briskly toward the counter, where the saleswoman's eyes lit up on seeing her. "Come on, Jessica," she said. "The championship finals are in a couple of weeks, right? We'll get a chance to humiliate Bruce then."
Jessica grinned and followed Lila. The two girls turned to see Bruce standing rigid, fists clenched in anger. They immediately exploded into giggles, which only served to increase Bruce's anger. "Two weeks from now," he said quietly, an under-tremor of anger evident in his voice, "Steven's finished."
Lila laughed, but Jessica couldn't bring herself to do the same. There was something infinitely strange in Bruce's voice…
"Hey, Jess," Lila said. "Let's go, shall we?"
Jessica came back to herself with a start. "What? You bought it already?"
Lila rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Of course, I did. If I hadn't called you just now, you'd have probably stood day-dreaming here all day."
Jessica chose not to reply to that, and the two went out. "So Bruce's gone," Jessica stated more than asked.
Lila nodded, but was silent. Jessica cast a sharp sideways glance at her. Lila's eyes were dreamy, almost glassy. Jessica wondered if anything was wrong, and was about to ask as much, but suddenly a thought, not likely, but definitely not impossible, struck her. She grinned and continued walking in silence with her friend.
Oh, Lila. If only you knew that I know.
