{"id":8186,"date":"2019-03-11T21:37:30","date_gmt":"2019-03-12T02:37:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=8186"},"modified":"2019-06-04T19:11:03","modified_gmt":"2019-06-05T00:11:03","slug":"the-beyond-chapter-one","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=8186","title":{"rendered":"The Beyond – Chapter One"},"content":{"rendered":"

CHAPTER ONE<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"Magic was thick as humidity in the southern Louisiana air. And it felt glorious.<\/p>\n

Today, there was no hiding. No pretending. We were humans, but not just humans. We were Sensitives, and we were doing magic in public.<\/p>\n

My students stood in a line on a plot of green, facing downriver and staring intently at the small objects on the grass in front of them. A wooden box, a ceramic vase, a knitted cube, an old FM radio, and an agate bookend.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet those shoulders back!\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned my gaze to the man who stood beside me. He was nearly four feet of attitude, stubby black horns, and more magic than my body could safely hold. Moses was a Paranormal, one of the good guys, and one of my favorite people.<\/p>\n

He also had a sass mouth, as Earlene, the oldest of my Sensitives, liked to say. It was one of the things I loved most about him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou look like trolls.\u201d Moses hunched his shoulders. \u201cStand up straight, for crap\u2019s sake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe talked about positive reinforcement,\u201d I murmured, hands on my hips, as the sun bore down on us, hard as a punch.<\/p>\n

He held up a fist. \u201cI\u2019ll show them positive reinforcement if they don\u2019t get this right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Moses will be playing bad cop today,\u201d I said to the group. A few managed weak chuckles, but the rest were fixated on their foci, the objects they\u2019d attempt to fill with their excess magic.<\/p>\n

They were tall, short. Dark, pale. Big, small. Old, young. Magic was the thing they had in common\u2014their unique sensitivities to the power that had crept into our world from the Beyond, the world of Paras. One could freeze matter, one could call animals, and one could communicate telepathically.<\/p>\n

Their powers were new, and they were untrained. I was here not to teach them how to use their magic, to make them better at freezing or calling, but to help them stay sane.<\/p>\n

Once upon a time, the Veil\u2014a ribbon of magic that separated the Beyond from the human world\u2014had kept the magic on their side. Nearly eight years ago, the Paras tore it open, ravaging the southern U.S., including New Orleans. Sensitives had helped magically sew it shut again, even if a little power had seeped through the stitches. But humans, being humans, had made a very bad mistake, and it had been ripped apart again. This time, it left a mile-long gap, and magic and Paras had been streaming into our world ever since.<\/p>\n

A few \u201clucky\u201d humans could sense that power, use it. About seven percent of the population, as far as Containment could tell. But human bodies weren\u2019t built for the burden of otherworldly energy. Too much magic warped bone and broke down muscle, turning Sensitives into skeletal wraiths whose only desire was the very magic that degraded them, even if they had to kill to get it. And there was no coming back from wraithdom.<\/p>\n

I was teaching these Sensitives to find balance, to keep the right amount of magic spooled in their bodies. Enough to use if necessary, but not so much that it overwhelmed and broke them. This was the fourth group I\u2019d trained since the Veil had been breached. Forty people who were willing to admit to their condition and get help for it. Probably not everyone affected. But I couldn\u2019t make anyone face their demons. Even if that meant they\u2019d face them as wraiths later.<\/p>\n

We stood in the pulsing heat on a greenway in Devil\u2019s Isle, the neighborhood-turned-prison-turned\u2013neighborhood for Paranormals. It had been the Fabourg Marigny, had become a prison for all Paranormals, and now served as a prison for some and a refuge for others, because humans had acknowledged not all magic\u2014and not all Paranormals\u2014were evil. It was only after the Veil had been opened again that the former Paranormal Combatant Command, and its Containment unit that operated Devil\u2019s Isle, had finally admitted there were two groups of Paranormals, and only one group was our enemy. The Court of Dawn led the war; they\u2019d magically conscripted their enemies, the Consularis, to fight.<\/p>\n

Containment had allowed the Consularis to leave Devil\u2019s Isle if they\u2019d wanted to, but kept the Court imprisoned. And as Court members slithered into our world again through the breach in the Veil, many of the freed Consularis Paras had stayed to fight. The PCC had become the Unified Combat Command, humans and Consularis Paras bound together to fight the Court of Dawn.<\/p>\n

And fight we had. It was good they were still outside the perimeter that Containment had been able to establish around New Orleans. But that had been a matter of will as much as of strength. Cracks<\/span>of magic and pops<\/span>of ammunition rolled like thunder across the city, which was down to military personnel and the thousand or so hardy humans who\u2019d refused to leave their homes. But we\u2019d stay as long as we could. As long as we could hold New Orleans.<\/p>\n

\u201cFocus on your foci,\u201d I said, only realizing how corny that sounded when the words were out of my mouth. I walked down the line, feeling out the magic that quivered around them. \u201cAnd go step by step, just like we\u2019ve talked about.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFind it. Grasp it. Cast it. Bind it,\u201d they repeated together.<\/p>\n

The rhyme had been my idea, a mnemonic device to give them something familiar to hold on to as they dropped their minds into the magic and tried to wring it out again.<\/p>\n

\u201cI still think mine was better,\u201d Moses muttered, scratching the edge of one dark and gleaming horn.<\/p>\n

\u201cYours was filthy,\u201d I said, giving him a flat look.<\/p>\n

His grin was as devilish as the horns. \u201cThat\u2019s what made it perfect.\u201d<\/p>\n

Biting back a smile, I turned back to the Sensitives. \u201cFind it,\u201d I repeated, and they closed their eyes, began to feel out the threads of magic that permeated their bodies.<\/p>\n

\u201cGrasp it.\u201d Their faces were studies in concentration as they pulled the magic together\u2014winding or braiding or balling it up\u2014in preparation for dragging it out. Sweaty, narrow eyed, and red cheeked from working in the oppressive heat. But it had to be done. They had to learn control under even bad conditions. Because in the real world, they might not have a choice.<\/p>\n

\u201cCast it,\u201d I said, and waves of power began to shimmer in the air like heat rising from asphalt. The foci began to vibrate as magic was stuffed into them, as energy fought mass.<\/p>\n

A little movement was fine; magic was a powerful thing. So I didn\u2019t notice the wooden box hopping off the ground until Moses started shouting.<\/p>\n

\u201cIncoming!\u201d he said, and wrapped his short arms around his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverybody watch out!\u201d I yelled, and Sensitives darted for cover.<\/p>\n

The box exploded, sending a gust of magic and needle-sharp splinters into the air.<\/p>\n

Every hair lifted in the tingling air, I opened an eye and looked around. Moses sat up, legs extended, rubbing his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou okay?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

He looked at me, blinked. \u201cThere two of you, or just one?\u201d He squinted. \u201cOr maybe just two of your hair. You look like an orange cloud.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou keep complimenting me, and Liam\u2019s going to get jealous,\u201d I said, offering a hand to help him to his feet.<\/p>\n

He took it, snorted. \u201cI don\u2019t date orange clouds.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy heart breaks,\u201d I said dryly.<\/p>\n

Around us were torn jeans, ripped T-shirts, and blown-back hair. The air smelled faintly of burned things, and mine wasn\u2019t the only puffy hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cLo siento,\u201d<\/span>said Mariah, the owner of the box, or what remained of it. She had light brown skin and long dark hair she\u2019d pulled into a knot. Tendrils had blown out of the bun and surrounded her face like a Renaissance halo. \u201cThe magic got away from me.\u201d<\/p>\n

A former Containment soldier named Dave, with tan skin and military-short blond hair, stamped out the smoldering remains with his boot-clad foot.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d I said, \u201call things considered, I still think that went better than last time. Anybody lose a finger?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d they all called out.<\/p>\n

\u201cDefinitely better than last time,\u201d Moses said with a nod.<\/p>\n

\u201cHappens to the best of us,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd I mean that literally. I exploded a cypress stump once upon a time.\u201d<\/p>\n

There were relieved murmurs down the line.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll get better,\u201d I said to Mariah. Not just supportive words, but the absolute truth. Mariah had a literal spark\u2014in her fingertips she could manifest power, tiny threads of electricity that were very handy in a place where the grid was inconsistent.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve shown today that you can gather up the magic,\u201d I said. \u201cNext step is to get it bound without an explosion.\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019d intended to give them instructions, to remind them of our next scheduled practice. But before I could say anything else, at the back of my neck was a flutter, delicate as a caress but touched with magic.<\/p>\n

I glanced back, found golden eyes staring back at me.<\/p>\n

Liam was home.<\/span><\/p>\n

It had been six days since I\u2019d seen him. Too long, especially now that he stood at the edge of the park, tall and muscled, a gleam of desire in his expression.<\/p>\n

Thick brows topped his blue eyes, his nose a straight wedge, his eyelashes thick and dark. He wore jeans, muddy at the knees, and a V-neck T-shirt streaked with more dirt. A camouflage backpack was slung over one shoulder, and magic, invisible but tangible, hovered in the air around him.<\/p>\n

Liam wasn\u2019t a Sensitive; like his grandmother Eleanor, he\u2019d gotten his magic in battle via a strike from someone else with power. That power had somehow transferred, giving him the ability to mirror another person\u2019s magic.<\/p>\n

He was still dealing with that, with the fact that he now stood on the other side of the line he\u2019d walked since Paras had first set foot in our world.<\/p>\n

His brother, Gavin, stood behind him with the same backpack, but rolling his eyes. They were a couple of years apart but looked unmistakably fraternal. Same tall and muscular build, same dark hair, same sculpted cheekbones. Gavin was a little leaner than Liam, his features a little sharper, as if the second edition had been honed a little more than the first. I, of course, preferred the original.<\/p>\n

Liam and I walked toward each other, gazes locked.<\/p>\n

\u201cMs. Connolly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Quinn.\u201d<\/p>\n

He tugged a lock of my red hair, his blue eyes piercing mine. Then he slid that gaze to the shrapnel spread across the ground. \u201cMos,\u201d he said questioningly. \u201cI thought you were going to keep her out of trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat am I, a freaking wizard? And not her fault, anyway. These damn kids,\u201d he said with a shake of his head, even though I\u2019d have bet some of those kids were older than he was.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhom you\u2019re supposed to be teaching,\u201d Liam said with a grin that pulled the dimples in his cheeks. God, I loved those dimples.<\/p>\n

Moses waved a hand like he was swatting away the idea. \u201cThey\u2019ve done all they\u2019re going to do today. Practice tonight,\u201d he told the group.<\/p>\n

Liam took my hand, linked his fingers with mine, and, when we reached the edge of the green, pulled me behind an oak tree with branches that gracefully arced over our heads before skimming the grass again.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been waiting on this for a week,\u201d he said, then fastened his lips to mine.<\/p>\n

Since I was sticky and hot, I decided his mud didn\u2019t make much difference. I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him closer. \u201cSame here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou taste like summer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI taste like New Orleans. Sticky.\u201d<\/p>\n

I could feel his smile. \u201cYoutaste like Claire.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would be awkward if I didn\u2019t,\u201d I said. \u201cI missed you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI missed you, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

He leaned back. \u201cDid you spend the week binge-watching old movies?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGod, I wish. I don\u2019t suppose you happened to bring back some reliable Internet access?\u201d<\/p>\n

He felt his jeans pockets, front, then back. \u201cDamn. I forgot again. So I guess no binge-watching.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUnless you mean watching Sensitives destroy their foci. But no lost fingers.\u201d<\/p>\n

His lips curled. Just seeing him smile\u2014seeing happiness on his face\u2014was enough to lift my mood.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat makes this a red-letter week,\u201d he said. \u201cDid you see the goats while I was gone?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a single one.\u201d Supposedly, Containment had imported three herds of goats to keep shrubs and plant growth in New Orleans\u2014at least in the areas not already scorched by magic\u2014at manageable levels. \u201cI\u2019m starting to wonder if it\u2019s an urban myth. Or a post-urban myth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw one,\u201d Gavin called out.<\/p>\n

Liam shook his head, rolled his eyes. \u201cThat was a deer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re both ungulates.\u201d<\/p>\n

We both looked back at him, and he lifted a shoulder. \u201cI found a book of crosswords. Been working on my vocab.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuspicious,\u201d I murmured, and looked back at Liam, searched his eyes. \u201cWhat did you actually see?\u201d<\/p>\n

Liam was a bounty hunter, had worked after the war to track Paranormals who hadn\u2019t been captured by Containment and bring them into Devil\u2019s Isle. But he knew the truth about Court and Consularis, and he\u2019d been very particular about his bounties\u2014and helping Consularis Paras stay hidden. Now he was using his skills to scout New Orleans and its surroundings, watch for Court movements into the area.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a new encampment,\u201d he said. \u201cNorth side of Lake Pontchartrain. About forty of them. All Seelies.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach sank. Although they seemed pale and delicate, Seelies were among the fiercest of Court fighters. They\u2019d been part of the first guard unit that had fought us when the Veil was ripped open\u2014with their furious eyes and golden weapons\u2014and we\u2019d barely survived the attack. One of us hadn\u2019t. Erida, a Consularis Para and, I later learned, my father\u2019s secret paramour, had taken a fatal wound for me.<\/p>\n

We hadn\u2019t seen any Seelies since that battle; that they were amassing outside New Orleans didn\u2019t bode well.<\/p>\n

\u201cForty Seelies,\u201d I said, trying to imagine the havoc they could wreak. \u201cHow did a group that large get past Containment?\u201d The Veil\u2019s gap at Belle Chasse\u2014while plenty wide to cause trouble\u2014was the only existing void, and Containment had an outpost right there. And we\u2019d have heard about a battle against forty Seelies. Gunnar, one of my best friends and a Containment higher-up, would have had many thoughts.<\/p>\n

\u201cProbably a few at a time,\u201d Liam said. \u201cI\u2019m going to talk to Gunnar.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re preparing for something?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. It\u2019s certainly possible, but they also don\u2019t like to mingle with other Paras. Royalty among peasants.\u201d<\/p>\n

I put a hand on his cheek. \u201cI\u2019m glad you made it back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI made it back, too,\u201d Gavin called out.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not talking to you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said I was sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou did say that. But it doesn\u2019t excuse what you did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t put the possum in the truck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou left the windows open. In a wildlife refuge. Overnight.\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t have a response to that.<\/p>\n

Liam\u2019s lips were at my ear. \u201cPlease try not to kill my brother. We\u2019ve just returned to our homeland, and that\u2019s a little too Greek tragedy for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll do what I can,\u201d I said, but narrowed my gaze at Gavin.<\/p>\n

He almost managed not to smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, fr\u00e8re<\/span>,\u201d Liam said. \u201cWe have a debrief to get to. You two can snipe at each other later.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gavin muttered something in Cajun, and Liam flipped him off. That was their chemistry.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll see you tonight,\u201d I said, and tugged Liam down for one last kiss. \u201cAnd don\u2019t forget about the party.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat party?\u201d Gavin asked. \u201cAnd will there be sexy ladies?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTadji\u2019s birthday party.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, right. I forgot about that.\u201d He ran a hand through his hair, which he was letting grow out. It nearly reached his shoulders now. \u201cDo I need a present? And does she like hot sauce?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop scavenging for that mess,\u201d Liam said. \u201cIt\u2019s at least eight years old.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike diamonds, pepper sauce is forever,\u201d Gavin said with a grin.<\/p>\n

There wasn\u2019t a praline to be found in the entire city of New Orleans, but not even war had decimated our supply of souvenir hot sauce.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes Tadji know about the surprise guest?\u201d Liam asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe does not,\u201d I said. And I hoped that didn\u2019t come back to bite me. Neither of us was big on surprises; we\u2019d seen plenty of drama in our lives. I was making one very large exception tonight.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s going to be spectacular,\u201d I said. And hoped I was right.<\/p>\n

Need more Claire? Order THE BEYOND now!<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a> \"\"<\/a>\"\"<\/a>\"\"\"\"<\/a>\"\"<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

CHAPTER ONE Magic was thick as humidity in the southern Louisiana air. And it felt glorious. Today, there was no hiding. No pretending. We were humans, but not just humans. We were Sensitives, and we were doing magic in public. My students stood in a line on a plot of green, facing downriver and staring[…]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":8031,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"template-fullwidth.php","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-8186","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8186","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8186"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8186\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8328,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8186\/revisions\/8328"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8031"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8186"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}