Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [25]
“I doubt people use that alcove to talk,” I pointed out.
Brent gave me a wicked grin. “Exactly.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I admit I’d be embarrassed if we got caught having that conversation, but you sort of overreacted back there.”
Brent’s shoulders slumped and he started chewing on his nails again. “Yeah. I’m just jumpy recently.”
“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Brent raked his fingers through his hair. “What matters is that I’m officially offering to train you.” Brent shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be on your fire escape at one this morning.”
I dropped onto a stone bench that rested under the branches of an oak tree, my jaw clenched in protest. “Is it really that dangerous?”
He sat beside me. “It can be. Unless you have training, your spirit can leave without you wanting it to any time you’re scared or angry. There are some foods you have to avoid.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Brent shook his head. “No. You’re lucky you have me. I had to learn this alone with some old notes. It wasn’t fun.” Brent started in on his nail again. All his fingers had ragged nails chewed down to the skin. “Black licorice, for example—avoid it. Some forms of it can push you out of your body with such force you end up far away from it and can’t return for a while. It’ll actually put up a barrier between your body and any spirit. Peppermint can—”
I cut him off. “No worries about licorice. I hate the stuff.” I bit my lip trying to absorb the information Brent had spewed out. “It sounds like there is so much to know. Are you sure I have no choice in this anymore?”
“Once you do it the first time, it’s part of you.” Brent gave me a pitying look.
“How long have you been able to leave your body?”
He paused for a beat, loosening his tie. “I developed that talent right before I started school here. How about you?”
“You saw my first time. Could the other guys in your family do it?”
He tilted his head. “Yeah.”
I lifted my necklace out of my shirt and my fingers anxiously grasped the charm that dangled from the chain, rubbing it between my thumb and pinky. Brent stared hard at my necklace, taking a few steps toward me. He lifted his hands, stroking the beads almost lovingly— the amber in them burned a little brighter and warmed from his touch; its heat snuggled into my soul.
“Wow. It responded to your touch,” I whispered, slightly awed. It was like something out of some fantasy novel, a magic talisman connecting with its master.
“Where did you get it?” Brent asked, ignoring my statement.
“My grandmother sent it to me from Brazil. Why?”
Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into his armpits while stepping back. “No reason. It’s pretty.”
I didn’t believe him, but I examined my necklace with newfound interest. The amber beads were flecked with tiny preserved blossoms, and the intricately carved wooden flower pendant glowed beautifully in the moonlight. I lifted it, watching the way the material picked up the beams of light.
“It isn’t all bad, you know. Once you can control it, it’s downright sick.”
It took a few moments for me to remember the conversation we had been having about astral projection. “What’s so great about being able to separate your soul from your body?”
Bent looked around, making sure we were alone before lifting his arm and running his hand back and forth in the air, creating a gentle breeze that lightly shook the leaves of the tree. I couldn’t help but gape at him open-mouthed. Had he really just made the leaves move? He grinned at my wonder and raising his hand again, waved it around my face, lifting the hair off my shoulders so it floated gently in the air.
“That was incredible,” I said as my hair fell back around my face and neck. I raised my hand, trying, but nothing happened. “How did you do it?”
“Meet me tonight and I’ll tell you,” he said, his low voice taking on a husky tone.
He was pouring on the charm, and it was working. I took a deep breath and refocused my brain. “Can everyone who can astral project do that?”
Brent paused, uncomfortable for a minute, before answering. “No, but I