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Sampson watched in horror as the woman’s – Aliya’s – eyes rolled back into her head, and she went limp. The detective made to catch her, but Sampson was faster as he bundled the woman into his arms.
‘Mine, mate…’ The simple declaration crashed through his chest like the brutal waves of an ocean storm.
Her smell, her essence, her very being, all that was her was now his. He felt himself instantly attune to the fragile creature in his arms.
And just like that, the bond began to form.
“Aliya,” he said - no, rumbled. His voice more growl than human he was sure as he checked her pulse, her breathing, pressed his hand to her forehead before pressing his own forehead against hers. “Aliya,” he breathed. He held the female like the most precious thing as he cradled her in his arms, his large frame slightly hunched over to shield her from the now curious eyes of the crowd that seemed to be gathering.
A touch against his arm nearly made him start, and he was brought back to the present rather quickly.
“I, uh,” Detective Jane cleared his throat as he regarded Sampson wearily, like one would a scared animal. “I suggest we take this inside. There are plenty of places for her to rest, and the kid-”
“Aliya,” Sampson corrected, as if he’d always known her name, and hadn’t learned it second-hand only minutes before.
“Right, Aliya will need to recharge. She’s probably just gone into overload and needs some peace and quiet.” Jane concluded.
“This happens often?” Sampson asked, horrified. Jane tilted his hand back and forth in a ‘so-so’ motion.
“Depends on the case. Usually not like this though.” Jane shrugged and Sampson began brainstorming ways to stop this ‘overload’ from happening ever again. Though he didn’t get very far before lack of information, and the detective’s voice stopped him. “So, inside?”
Sampson looked the man in the eyes for a long moment before nodding once, and allowing him to lead the way back into the dorm.
-
Aliya could feel the gentle swaying of her body, she could smell the intoxicating scent of sunshine, and cardamon and the earth after a rain. But all of that was secondary to the vision her power had shunted her into.
She must have been 4, or five years old. She and her mother were in the supermarket, getting groceries for the week. This must have been in the before time. Back when she still had a mother. Aliya shut the thought away, before focusing back on the memory.
She saw the scene like she was in the room, a third-person observer. Her magic seemed to have a way of capturing and re-framing so she could take in the scene from an entirely new perspective.
In the memory, her tiny hand was clutched in her mother's, when something caught her attention. Her head jerked to the right, the beads in her braids clacked together as she looked for the source of what had distracted her. A tall lumbering man, with red hair and a strong build, held a basket filled with cereal, syrup, and all sorts of breakfast foods.
Ellie's eyes widened as she took in the man's aura, excitedly she tugged at her mother's hand and pointed directly at him.
“Mama,” she'd said, her voice barely above a whisper as it filled with awe. But her mother was distracted by the list, looking at the brands of tea in the aisle, and mumbling something too quietly for Aliya to hear.
She tugged on her hand, a silent request for her mother to release her, a request her mother distractedly granted.
Freed, Aliya charged headlong towards the man as he crouched down to look at one of the boring cereal brands, all health and no flavour.
The man had obviously noticed her, but paid her no mind as she crept ever closer to him. He studied the boxes, popped one into his basket, and then turned to look at her, with kind, pale blue eyes.
“Hello, little one.” He’d said.
“Hello,” Aliya breathed in awe.
“What brings you here?”
“You glow like, big,” she'd said, spreading her arms out to try and express the magnitude of it. It was the only way she could explain the cracks and pops of energy that seemed to roll off him, like bubbling lava, or liquid gold. His aura was pearlescent, metallic, beautiful.
Cautiously, Aliya reached out a hand and touched the man’s skin. Her magic reacted, pulsing gently into him once, mapping him, tasting his aura.
The man's eyes widened and flashed, from round and blue to a yellow slit, then back to blue again.
The man's mouth gaped open, but before he could say anything to the little girl who was now gently tracing over Celtic knot tattoos lining the sleeve of his arms, Aliya’s mother scooped her up quickly and began apologizing.
But those eyes. Even as she lay, her head pressed against her mother's shoulder, cradled in the woman’s arms, her teeth gently gnawing on the end of a braid, she couldn't help but think about those eyes.
They had been important, those eyes, that man and his aura. It was like this new man, the one who smelled of sunshine, and cardamon and the earth after a rain. Aliya needed to know why he was important, because something about him had pulled her into a memory strong enough that her magic had forced her under.
And now this new guy, Sampson Gale. Meeting him, even the brief glimpse she’d gotten before she collapsed, was something she’d never forget. And though his skin was a much darker caramel, and his eyes a sweet crystal amber and not a pale blue, he still elicited that strange feeling of power. And as much as that other man had seemed to glow, this Sampson guy, he was on another level.
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