Before I can finish sputtering my indignation at this dismissal, Flynn continues. "She saw her partner get taken out by a humanoid that sounds an awful lot like the one you met on the island," he says, his tone serious now. "She's been fighting the Gloom her entire life, and the one rule, the one absolute, unbreakable rule she's ever known is that Exorcists fight the Gloom and Gloom Dwellers use it. Then she meets you. You're not just a Tainted Blood, you're the opposite of everything she believes in. It's gonna take her a minute to adjust."
"A minute?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Try the rest of her life."
"Maybe," Flynn concedes, shrugging. "But she's also an Exorcist. Her duty is to protect humanity. And right now, we're all that's left of humanity's defense. She's smart. She'll put her prejudice aside if it means getting the job done. You'll see."
I want to argue with him, to point out that prejudice isn't something you just 'put aside' like a dirty coat. But I don't have the energy. And a small, treacherous part of me hopes he's right.
"Not like any of us have much choice." I mumble, looking down at the stew I'm no longer eating. "We need her." She has experience. She's more than a student, and sge hasn't spent years as a teacher. She's a field agent. A real fighter. We've lost so much. We need what she brings to the table.
Flynn nods in agreement. "Which is why we gotta prove her wrong." He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk. He looks at me, and the lazy, cheerful facade is gone, replaced by a grim determination. "So, you're going to practice."
"Practice what? My brooding? It's already world-class."
"No, you idiot. Your... 'thing'." He wiggles his fingers in a gesture that is meant to represent the Gloom, but just makes him look like he's trying to cast a spell. "You said you can't make it, only control what's there. So we're going to find you some Gloom to practice on."
I stare at him, certain I must have misheard. "We're going to find... Gloom?"
"That's what I said."
"Flynn, where there is Gloom there are Dwellers. Where there are Dwellers, we don't want to be. This is the central tenet of our entire survival strategy right now." I feel like I'm explaining gravity to a toddler. "In fact, our entire survival strategy is to be as far away from Gloom as humanly possible."
"Right, but that's the problem, isn't it?" Flynn counters, leaning forward, his blue eyes alight with the spark of a terrible, brilliant idea. "You can't control it if you're not near it. We're stuck in here, safe as bugs in a rug, but you can't get any better at being our secret weapon. Siena's out there, risking her neck to get us supplies and info. We can't just stay cooped up forever."
"Let's try," I suggest, deadpan.
He ignores me. "No. Look, we'll be smart about it. We won't go looking for a pack of Ferals. We'll go find some... littering. Some of that goo they leave behind. It's inert, right? Just... leftovers. A perfect training dummy."
He says it with such simple, straightforward confidence that for a dizzying second, it almost sounds like a good idea. A sane, logical plan.
And then my brain kicks in. "That stuff dissolves quick. And in case you've forgotten we're no longer in a position to be hunting them. They're hunting us."
"Aren't we?!" Flynn asks, gesturing wildly at me. "We've got a secret weapon who can't use his secret weapon! We're like a guard dog with no teeth! We need you to be able to control more than just a little wall."
I just stare at him, trying to find the flaw in his logic that I can articulate in a way he'll understand.
"...Look, I don't want to get eaten. Being stronger helps with that. But putting aside the danger that using the Gloom does some horrible unfixable thing to me that's so bad the Order buried any mention of it...What do we do when we bite off more than I can chew?"
I ask, my tone dry. "If your 'inert' training goo isn't as inert as you think it is? Or if a Dweller comes along to check on its handiwork? If that Humanoid sets up a trap?"
"...Well...I don't think he can plan a trap based on one of my quick thinking plans until we've done it a few times."
"...I would indeed be shocked if any other humanoid understood you reasoning..."
I sigh, rubbing at my temples. The stew is sitting in my stomach like a lead weight, and the conversation is making my head ache. "So your plan is to go out there, find the equivalent of a predator's droppings, and hope we don't run into the predator itself."
"I think it's a good start." Flynn says, like I'm being unreasonable - rather, liker he's being normal.
II's honestly pretty hard to respond to.
. Part of me...actually wants to try it. To see what I can do. To have some control, any control, over this horrible new reality. But the rest of me is screaming that it's the stupidest idea in a long, stupid history of stupid ideas. It's pure, undiluted Flynn. Brave, reckless, and utterly insane.
"I'm not leaving the crypt." I say, trying to sound firm. But it's hard to sound firm when you're talking to a brick wall with a golden cowlick.
Flynn just grins, an infuriatingly confident sparkle in his eyes. "Okay."
I don't.
I don't like that agreement.
I would like it. If I believed it.
But this is Flynn.
So.
I don't.
"Okay?"
"Okay," he repeats, nodding. "You need to rest. Recover. Recharge your brooding batteries. I get it. We're not going anywhere tonight." He stands up and stretches again, a series of loud, cracking pops echoing in the small room. "But tomorrow... tomorrow is a new day. And we've got a crypt to not get eaten in."
He walks toward the door, then pauses, his hand on the frame. He looks back at me, his expression unreadable. "You know, Caden... for the first time in your life, you're not the liability here. You're the advantage. And you're the only one who's got a chance of figuring out what you are."
He doesn't wait for a reply. He just walks out, leaving me alone in the quiet room with the sleeping Amelia and the lingering smell of stew.