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Still, Cal’s grin deepens, and his eyes remain on the boy "Please, call ain, Luther pulls away, but Cal doesn’t seeer he expected it

Luther flushes, his cheeks pulsing a dark and lovely red "Sorry"

"Not at all," Cal replies "In fact, I used to do the saer than you, but then, I had very, veryIn spite of his fear, the boy smiles a little "But you just have your dad, don’t you?"

The boy ss, his tiny throat bobbing Then he nods

"I try--" Carver says, again gripping his son’s shoulder

"We understand, sir," I tell hies Cal with his shoe, his curiosity overco all else "What could make you afraid?"

Before our eyes, Cal’s outstretched palely beautiful, a slow burn of languid, dancing fire Yellow and red, lazy in movement If not for the heat, it would seem an artistry instead of a weapon "I didn’t kno to control it," Cal says, letting it play between his fingers "I was afraid of burning people My father, my friends, my--" His voice almost sticks "My little brother But I learned tothe people I wanted to stay safe So can you, Luther"

While the boy stares, transfixed, his father is not so certain But he is not the first parent we’ve faced, and I am prepared for his next question "What you call newbloods? They can do this too? They can--control what they are?"

My own hands ith sparks, each one a twisting purple bolt of perfect light They disappear intono trace "Yes, we can, Mr Carver"

With surprising speed, the man retrieves a pot from a shelf, and sets it in front of his son A plant, maybe a fern, sprouts from the dirt within Any other would be confused, but Luther knows exactly what his father wants "Go on, boy," he prods, his voice kind and gentle "Show the"

Before I can bristle at the turn of phrase, Luther holds out one tree of the fern leaf, careful but sure Nothing happens