The Many Faces of Tully

It’s February 16th. One month left. Today I am running a practice of Gunther’s and Nash’s. Pretty boring stuff. It’s just the same thing. Jace would have been running it, but he’s having a meeting with Calchas, Kato, and Rozen. Strategic meeting for the battle. They’ve been having them frequently, and they won’t tell any of us what’s going on until they figure it out themselves. Kato had a vision or whatever and saw that our battle is going to be in a large field. Which is good, because then no innocent bystanders would get hurt or caught in the crossfire.

I am staring into the practice room, bored out of my mind. Nash is giving Gunther a moving target. He would flip, cartwheel, sprint, tumble and jump around the room, seeing if Gunther can get a kill shot in with all of the weapons. We are about halfway through the weapons and he hasn’t missed yet.

I focus on Nash now. I remember Jace telling me how Nash’s powers sort of works off memory. I can take memory away. Does that mean I can take Nash’s power away? I mean, I haven’t been able to take someone’s memory away on demand. It sort of just happens, like everything else. But I’ve gained control of my morphing, and my telekinesis. Maybe I can gain control of this too.

I focus my gaze on Nash’s forehead. Would I be able to see his memories, or thoughts, or hear them? Maybe feel them? All I know is that in that moment I’m running, all the people that know me flash into my mind and I know, to protect myself they need to forget they ever knew me.

I turn my attention to Nash’s memories. What are his memories about? Family? Friends? School? What’s in his mind? What makes him Nash? What makes him the cocky, funny teenager that he is?

I can see it then, or feel it. It’s like a filing cabinet sort of. I open one of the drawers and flip through the files. Him as a young boy, riding on the shoulders of his father, watching a parade. His sister, throwing a pillow at him, yelling at him to get out of her room. A dog, chasing after a stick he threw. And then a memory catches me off guard by the clarity of it.

He was running out into the street to pick up the dog that he had been throwing a stick for in the last memory. He was trying to save it from the oncoming truck. The driver of the bulky Dodge pick-up truck didn’t have time to brake. Nash turned his back and braced himself for the blow. It hit him squarely in the spine and he went flying forward, skidding across the road. He had the dog caged between his arms, and he remembered not feeling any pain. Just the sensation of flying through the air. He could hear the screeching of the tires as the driver slammed on his brakes finally. He could hear his mom screaming and crying for him.

He sat up, letting the dog go, and looking at himself. His clothes were torn here and there, but he had no scratches on him. The driver had gotten out of his truck then, freaking out, looking for his dead body. When he looked at him, he just stared at him in shock. His mother came around the truck then, tears streaming down her face, looking for him too. She saw him and screamed.

“Are you all right kid?” the driver asked him, and Nash just nodded.

“What are you?” his mother demanded him. Nash got up slowly, testing his bones and muscles. I could feel him feeling the shock of it, and the awe of it. He started to walk towards his mom and she started yelling at him. “Don’t come near me! You’re cursed!” She backed away from him.

“Mom?” Nash said slowly.

“I am not your mother. You’re not my Avinash. You’re a demon! The devil’s spawn!” She turned and sprinted into the house, leaving Nash with his mouth hanging open.

“Hey, kid. Um, I’m really sorry about that. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you, uh, want a ride somewhere?” the driver asks him awkwardly.

“Can I take my dog?” Nash asked him numbly, staring after his mom.

“Sure, kid. And I don’t believe your mother. You’re not a demon. It’s a goddamn gift that you didn’t get a scratch. Hop on in kid.”

I shove the memory back into its file. His feelings in that memory echo through me and I can sympathize. I would be shunned. I’ve seen the fear that my power has caused. I am a demon. I shake my head, but something bright and shiny in Nash’s head catches my attention.

It’s his power. I can feel it. It pulses every time he is shot. I can feel it tightening his skin to deflect the bullets. His power does all the work for him. He doesn’t need to control it. It’s just a part of him. Can I take something away that is so attached to him?

I feel around it with my mind, and I can see the inner workings of it. It’s almost like it is its own brain, filled with information. I can’t really decode it, but I know that I can take away some of the information. I’m just about to try when I think about Gunther. If I make Nash vulnerable, Gunther will kill him.

I push my mind into Gunther’s. Shoot him in the arm. I can feel his brain go numb as it fully accepts my command. I quickly go back to Nash’s mind and instead of taking away the information, I just block it for a while. I box it up and lock it.

The next thing I know is Nash crying out in pain and blood pouring from his arm. I return to myself, and all I see is the blood coming out of Nash’s arm. I did that. I shot Nash. How could I shoot Nash? Was it me or was it my power? I don’t know.

“What happened?” Gunther asks, somewhat dazed.

“You shot me!” Nash yells at him. “Shit! This burns!” And he groans. I’m frozen into place, staring at Nash, grabbing his arm. I can’t believe what I just did. What kind of person shoots their friend? Willingly shoots them in the arm!?

“I don’t understand?” Gunther says, shaking his head. He seems really lost. Finally a coherent thought forms in my head. Nash needs to heal. We need Jace.

“JACE!” I scream at the top of my lungs. It’s so loud that it even hurts my ears. It echoes through the hall, and I’m almost positive he’ll hear it where he is locked up in the meeting room. I turn and sprint down the hall, not waiting to see if he heard me or not. Everyone else is hanging their heads out the doors or walking out into the hallway to see what the commotion was.

JACE! I shout again in my head in the general area he’s in, not stopping to answer the questions thrown at me. “What’s going on?” “What’s wrong?” “What happened?” I can hear them head down the hallway to the practice room.

I make it to the room and wrench open the door as Jace is pushing it open. He is yanked through the doorway.

“Whoa. What’s going on Tully? I heard you shout in my hea-”

I don’t give him a chance to talk. I grab his arm and start pulling towards the practice room.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to,” I keep saying. I realize I’m crying too. I’m such a horrible person.

“What did you do? I can only assume you didn’t explode seeing as you look the same.”

I don’t understand how he sounds so calm, cool, and collected as I practically drag him down the hallway. I see everyone crowded around the practice room, shock on every one of their faces.

We get to the room and I shove through the crowd, knocking a few of them down. I hit the button to open the door. I’m yanking him through the door before it’s even fully open. “Just heal him.”

“Tully. Did you see that?” Nash asks me. He’s sitting on the floor now, looking at the bullet hole in his arm.

“How the hell did you get shot!?” Jace demands, hurrying forward.

“I don’t know! And we’re lucky Gunther didn’t shoot me in the head or chest!” I don’t know why but Nash sounds excited. He’s crazy.

“Wait. Gunther, you missed?” Jace looks up at him, already touching Nash’s arms with his green hand.

“I don’t understand it either. I was aiming to kill, but suddenly my mind went blank. When I came back, Nash was shot in the arm and Tully was sprinting away,” Gunther says, still mystified.

Jace looks at me then, with new understanding in his eyes. “You did this?” I nod slightly. “How?”

“I-I,” I stutter. I don’t want to admit that I’m a monster. Jace is staring at me expectantly and I know I have to answer him. “I blocked Nash’s power, and made Gunther shoot him in the arm instead.” My voice is surprisingly smooth and clear. Almost as if I’m proud of what I did.

“How?” Jace demands. I know he doesn’t mean to sound rude.

“How does Damon control people? How do I take people’s memories away? That’s pretty much what I did. I doubt I could do it again,” I answer him quickly.

His eyes are burning with curiosity. He’s going to want me to try to do it again. I sigh heavily and try to reach into his mind. I can’t even find the part in my mind that sees into others. “See. Can’t do it. I don’t know how.” I turn and stalk off to my room.