Discern, Mosaic Chronicles Book One

Chapter Fourteen

Nicole carefully lowered herself into her seat in the airplane between Austin and Coolidge. She rested her head back and closed her eyes, grateful for pain medication. She wondered if Austin was still not talking to her. He hadn't responded to anything she or Coolidge had said, pretty much confirming her feelings that he was about to desert.

Austin's behavior didn't seem to bother Coolidge. In fact, he encouraged it by doing some ignoring of his own.

Nicole had been dying for conversation by the time they got to the airport, but she refused to break the silence herself.

Her thoughts left Austin and returned to their experiences. It was hard to believe that only a week had passed since they'd flown in to Moab. So much had happened—so many had died. She grimaced, thinking about Sylvia and the family she'd left behind, and about Jason and Camille and Professor Howard . . . people she'd never see again.

"I'm sorry about your cello," Austin said, making Nicole jump.

She frowned, resisting the urge to stare at him. Now he starts talking?

"I hesitate bringing this up in case I'm wrong," Coolidge said, "but there's a chance the university will replace it."

Nicole turned to Coolidge. "Really?"

"Yes. It was destroyed on a university expedition, so they might be accountable. I'll look into it and let you know."

"Regardless, I still feel bad it got ruined," Austin said.

Okay, that was it. She wasn't letting him off the hook. "So you're talking to me now?" She threw her hands up. "You know what? I don't get you, Austin."

"It's not what you think," Coolidge said.

"Oh, so you're in on it together? You two . . . you're ridiculous." She folded her arms and refused to look at either of them.

"I wasn't ignoring you on purpose," Austin said. "It's a part of me I can't control."

Nicole didn't respond.

"I'm serious. It happens to all Aretes." He leaned forward, trying to catch her eye, an anxious expression on his face. "I pushed myself too hard back there."

"As did you, Nicole," Coolidge said.

"Yeah," Nicole said, "just like the both of you—it's been stressful and exhausting."

Austin shook his head. "That's not what we're talking about. When I push myself too hard, it does temporary damage to my brain. I lose the ability to recognize faces."

Nicole frowned, finally looking at him. "You're serious? Does that happen to everyone?"

"The temporary damage, yes," Austin said, "but each Arete reacts differently to overexertion. My dad loses his sight—which, as you can imagine, makes things really stressful."

Nicole gasped. "That's horrible." She swallowed, trying to collect her thoughts. "Why haven't I ever heard of this before?"

Coolidge looked at her. "There's a lot you don't know about being an Arete."

"I want to understand. I want to learn—to know more."

"And that's a good thing," Coolidge said, leaning back in his seat.

"Then tell me more."

Coolidge took a deep breath. "Basically, when you push your Arete powers too far, the pineal gland is forced to borrow energy from other areas of the brain, and your body suffers accordingly. As Austin said, it's different for everyone. I lose my hearing when I push myself too hard."