The Liminal People Read Online Free PDF Page B

here.” My head was beginning to hurt from the massive amounts of information Nordeen gave with every sentence.
    â€œThey are not like us. Tell any of them what I am, and I promise you a slow death.” I started in shock, truly afraid for the first time in ages that I would be murdered. “The prologue to your necessary knowledge, little healer is this: the more people who know what you are, the more people are likely to use it against you.” I backed out of the room at that point, making a point to keep my gaze below the two yellow globes.
    If you can understand why I stayed with Nordeen, then you can understand me a little better. I’m not a sycophant. I don’t crave power, nor do I have a desire to be under anyone who does. Nordeen’s description of the power inside of me was perfect: “the thing that decided to take up residence inside of me.” On rough days, it made me feel like an alien beast or, as Yasmine would say, like a freak. But on good days, when I exercised my power in right relation to the world, I felt nearly unstoppable. I grew with power.
    Living a bipolar life, rocketing between freak and human, made me long for some stability. And despite the bowel-spilling terror Nordeen invoked, he offered that. I knew that under his protection and guidance I would learn more about myself.
    If you don’t have powers, then you probably can’t understand why I stayed. Best analogy I can come up with is this: imagine you’re a gorilla living amongst chimps. Yeah, they’re kind of like you, but they’re lighter, smaller, less substantial. They run around afraid all the time, screaming and barking at the slightest sound. You can throw your weight around and get whatever you want. So when you finally come across another gorilla, not only another gorilla, but an older, stronger gorilla that has a crew of chimps doing his bidding without doing much weight throwing, you want to figure out how it all goes down.
    Still, I knew Nordeen was serious about his loyalty pledge. I’d seen the razors around Fou-Fou’s neck. And I spent half a sleepless night imaging what depraved things Nordeen would have me doing, and what would happen if I tried to run. I was afraid to even think too loudly for fear of him hearing my thoughts. But I spent the rest of the night imaging the worlds and possibilities the shadow man could show me. After my brother and Yasmine, I’d only met one other person like me: the boy from the Mog. The way Nordeen spoke, it was as though he knew all of the people like us in the world. I had learned more about my power from the Mog boy than from all my anatomy classes, and the kid was barely ten. So I couldn’t afford to put distance between me and Nordeen.
    I met him again in his cobbled-together cave the next day. Again, my gaze was low, but this time I crawled in excited. I told him I wanted to leave with them. I expected some form of welcome.
    â€œCome and heal me then. Learn what you can from that, and let it be the seal on your healing for a year.” My family was never the religious type. I’d been to church maybe ten times in my life. But when I reached out to lay hands on this man whose full body I still couldn’t totally perceive, it felt like I was about to touch a holy icon. Touching his skin, an organ I’m used to feeling in my body long before I connect to it with my hand, was bracing. It held me tight, like a quick-growing fungus with deadly intent. At the same time my senses, and my special sense, were being flooded by an . . . intoxicating invisible liquid. I found myself ravenous and full at the same time, freezing and flush, dangerously open and totally intimate. In the end, it was up to him to break our contact. In a flash of insight I saw disappointment in what Nordeen perceived as his own weakness. I couldn’t help but remember what the Dogon had said about healers being the death of the warrior’s