It was... late. After midnight. The sirens had faded hours ago.
Anah's house was a fortress of terrible, suffocating silence.
Anah had made them... tea. A thick, black, bitter sludge that smelled like roots and anise. It was supposed to make them sleep.
Ruth was in the guest room. Anah had insisted she stay. "You are... part of this now," she'd said. "You are not safe, out there. Not anymore." Bruce had heard Anah lock Ruth's door from the outside. A "protection," she'd called it. It had sounded, to Bruce, like a cage.
He was in his room. He was supposed to be asleep.
But he was not asleep. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands in the faint, grey moonlight.
He was... empty.
The hum was gone. The roar was gone. The nightmare of the red, pulsing heart felt distant. The cold, clear power from the amulet... that was gone, too.
He was just... Bruce.
And he was terrified.
He was terrified of what he had done. He was terrified of Anah's story. An Immortal. Hunters. A beacon.
But...
But...
He had... done it.
He... he... had thrown four boys... twenty feet.
A part of him, a deep, dark, secret part he hadn't known existed until this very second... was not just terrified.
It was fascinated.
He looked at his left hand. The smoking hand. It looked... normal. He balled it into a fist, then opened it. It was just... a hand.
He had felt it. The ignition. The expulsion.
Could he... could he do it again?
The thought was a betrayal. It was a monstrous thought. He should be... be... praying. He should be crying.
But he wasn't.
He was curious.
He stood up, his movements slow, silent. He looked at his door. He could hear Anah, humming her low, grating, warding-off tune in the kitchen.
He looked at his desk.
At a cup.
It was a simple, ceramic Oaktown High mug. A stupid, $10-dollar piece of school-spirit crap.
He... he tried.
He stood in front of the desk. He looked at the cup. He held out his left hand, his palm open, just... just like he had.
"Stop," he whispered.
Nothing.
The cup just... sat there. He felt... stupid. He was just a boy in his pajamas, pointing at a cup, trying to be a superhero.
He tried... harder.
He squeezed his mind. He tried to summon the anger he'd felt for Dickson. He tried to summon the fear for Ruth.
Nothing. Just... a headache.
He let his hand fall. He was a fraud. It... it was the amulet. It wasn't him. It was that... that thing... and now it was gone. He... he was just... Bruce.
He felt a wave of... bitter, useless... disappointment.
He thought of Anah's words.
"It's not it*, child. It's*... it's you. The amulet just... focused it."
It's me.
He closed his eyes. He didn't try to be angry. He didn't try to find the power.
He... listened.
He listened to the silence inside him. The new, empty, terrifying silence.
He... he reached. Not with his hand. With his mind.
He reached... down. Down, past the fear, past the confusion... down, to... to the well. The deep, dark, quiet place where the hum used to live.
He felt... something.
A... a... a little itch.
A tingle.
It was... it was the mark. The mark on his shoulder. It was... tingling.
He focused on the cup. He didn't look at it. He... he felt it. He could feel its... its shape... in his mind. Its... its thing-ness.
He focused on the tingle. He pushed the tingle... from his shoulder... down his arm... into his hand.
His hand was... tingling. It was... it was... vibrating.
He felt a tiny, tiny... surge.
CRACK.
Bruce's eyes snapped open.
The cup... was gone.
No. Not gone.
It had... exploded.
It hadn't just shattered. It had detonated.
There was a fine, white, ceramic dust all over his desk. Shards... shards of the handle... were embedded in the wall on the far side of his room.
He...
He was breathing hard. He hadn't... he hadn't meant to do that. He had just... pushed.
He looked at his hand. It was vibrating. Just a little.
He... he had done it.
He... he... had done it.
Without the amulet.
He was terrified.
And a slow, dark, dangerous smile... a smile he had never, ever felt before... spread across his face in the moonlit dark.
He was a monster.
And... he was fascinated.