“Right now I need you to
measure souls like a guardian.”
I’ve done it lots of times
before. It was one of the first things that Jonathan taught me to do after I
transformed, and it has always come relatively easily to me.
Glad to give my attention
to something else, I concentrate until I feel crackly dry heat right behind my
eyes. Jonathan once told me that every guardian perceives a soul’s state a
little differently; the way I see it is in the whites of someone’s eyes.
Through experimentation and comparison, we determined that white means a
healthy or “intact” soul while damage to me looks like jaundice of varying
degrees.
Jonathan clears his throat,
and when I look over at him, he makes a gesture with his hand. Like he’s waving
me out there.
“What?” I say, my eyes
widening.
“Pick one of them to save and cast your
protection.”
My glance sweeps through
the mourners again before coming to rest back on Jonathan. “You’re serious?”
“Perfectly,” he says
patiently. “Choose one.”
He rests his elbows on his
knees and looks down at his clasped hands. Apparently, today’s lesson starts
now.
I get up and move away from
him, weaving through the people who are mingling in the reception area and some
who have already migrated into the chapel. He wants me to “choose one,” huh?
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