I stepped off into nothing.

The air shrilled over my ears. My long hair whipped around my face.

Falling . . .

Falling!

Nothing had happened! Which meant I was dying—

Pain!

Stabbing agony spread over my back. Can’t breathe. Barely conscious. I must’ve landed, breaking on the rocks.

So why was I still falling?

PAIN.

I raised my hands in front of my face, gnashing my teeth as talons burst from my fingertips! Disbelieving, I craned my head from side to side—silky blackness fluttered behind me. Wings! I concentrated on expanding them—using them to survive.

The ground rushed ever closer.

I tried flapping my new wings. Swooping? Flying in general?? None of the elders had passed down practical tips on flight!

New muscles in my back contracted. My wings extended, shocking me with their size! With all my might, I strained my new muscles—

My wings caught the air; my body jerked as if I’d jumped with a tether attached to me.

Too much pressure! “Ahhhh!” The bones would surely snap. Heart about to explode, I let instinct take over. Without thinking, I maneuvered into a dive.

As I shot headfirst through the sky, my wings seemed to act on their own. They dug into the air like paddles in water, propelling me forward. And again. My speed remained constant, but now I was flying parallel to the ground.

I was . . . flying.

The pain from before gave way to euphoria. All my life, I’d waited to soar!

And my senses! I heard ice cracking in a distant glacier, and the cries of jubilant sectaires all the way up at the Mount. Far to the north I spied a white arctic hare, huddled down amid miles of snow. The sight of prey affected me; my talons extended even more from my altered fingertips.

Euphoria. Ecstasy. Air slipped over my wings like a caress from heaven.

As I glided, I blinked at a shadow sliding over the snow below me. Black on white. Fearsome, bold.

My lips parted. That terrifying shadow was . . . mine.

The image was forever burned into my mind; a reminder of why I had grown these wings.

To kill.

The World (XXI)

Tess Quinn, This Unearthly One

“Trapped in the palm of my hand.”

A.k.a.: Quintessence, Miracle

Powers: Levitation, teleportation, astral projection, time manipulation, intangibility, Arcana visitation.

Special Skills: Spying.

Weapons: A wooden staff.

Tableau: A bare-chested maiden with a swath of white cloth around her hips, framed by symbols of the four elements.

Icon: A globe.

Unique Arcana Characteristics: When the World utilizes her powers, her reactorlike body quickly burns calories. Inefficient use of her abilities will result in sudden, massive weight loss.

Before Flash: Honors high school student and service award recipient.

Broken Bow, Oklahoma

Day 0

I’ll die before I ever get my first kiss.

I sprawled on my bed, biting my nails, miserable. Here I was, sweet seventeen (going on eighteen) and never been kissed. How pitiful was that?

I had all these new abilities, but I’d kill for a kiss. And once I got it, I’d hit the play button for my life. Things might actually start to happen for me—exciting things.

My phone rang. Expecting one of the fussbudgety officers of my service club, I sighed, taking my time to roll over and answer.

I blinked at the caller ID: “T-Tony Trovato?” Was calling me? I had the hugest crush on him. I started to do my usual anxiety trembling, only this time I began to float upward—without even touching my staff.

Tony T. was Sicilian but also a punk skateboarder, like a supercute hybrid. He wasn’t the guy every girl in school wanted.

Only the smart girls.

I cleared my throat to answer, but he’d already hung up. Nooo! I slowly drifted back down to sit on the bed. “Why would he call me?” I asked my empty room. For tutoring. Surely.

I wished I could see him right now. Did he have his books cracked open? Was he panicking about class tomorrow?

I glanced at the staff on my bed. I could astral-project to him and see what he was up to. . . .

No, Tess. Don’t you do it. Spying was wrong.

When I’d found that beat-up old staff in Gramps’s attic and discovered my abilities, I’d realized I was a superhero. I wanted to be a good one. So I’d outlined rules.

1) Don’t use powers unless absolutely necessary. This was tough because I liked myself whenever I was actively using them. I felt confident and witty.

Not that anyone could see or hear me.

2) Don’t spy. Even tougher.

3) Don’t tell parents. To convince them of my powers, I’d have to demonstrate; Dad might legit have a heart attack.

4) Don’t rob banks.

I was rethinking my last rule. My parents were closing in on retirement age, but they were strapped. Dad still worked two jobs. Nineteen years ago they’d spent a fortune on assisted reproduction to have me—their little miracle—and still hadn’t caught up.

They’d given up everything just to bring me into the world.

I gazed at my phone. Maybe I could bend my rules in case of an emergency—like finding out why Tony had called! I’d only go to him for a second, sneak a peek, then project myself right back home.

I couldn’t go for much longer anyway. I’d discovered the hard way that each astral projection, levitation, and teleportation burned fat, leaving my body skeletal. I’d plump back up again once I’d scarfed down a few thousand calories, but I didn’t want to find out my limit on fat loss.