Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (31 page)

Unashamed, she pushes tears away with the back of her hand. “I didn’t know about you and Joseph. I can’t even begin to imagine how confused you must feel right now.”

I shrug. “It’s a lot to process.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone,” Whitney encourages, picking up my hand and pressing it between hers.

The tenderness in her eyes is unnerving. Between her hands my fingertips begin to tingle. The sensation spreads along my arm, down my shoulder, and into my chest. Warmth wraps around me like a towel after a cold bath. The hollow ache I’ve been carrying around for the past twenty-four hours dissipates slightly, allowing me to breathe properly.

“Thanks,” I say, pulling my hand back to my side.

“Well, is this family drama over?” Trent asks with a smirk.

I look at Joseph and smile with affection. He nods. An endearing expression, one which I’ve grown attached to, unfolds on his face.

“Good,” Trent chirps. “Because I’d like to discuss using our powers for good. I vote we do some time travel to prove or dispel popular conspiracies. Who’s with me?”

The group instantly engages in a spirited discussion about different events they could travel back to witness. Grateful for the distraction I take the seat beside George.

“You didn’t say anything,” I say to him without making eye contact.

“You were having a hard time containing yourself. I was trying to help.” He leans forward, looking directly at me.

“Oh,” I say in a hush.

“Did you want me to say something?”

“No,” I mutter. “I just feel…” I stop and swallow and look straight at him for the first time. His brown eyes search mine and I know I don’t have to complete my sentence.

“Stop,” he says. “Don’t be ashamed. No one in this room is mad at you for how you reacted, especially me.”

My lips press together and I allow the relief to wash over me. “I understand why you didn’t tell me about Joseph,” I say. “But still it’s hard to digest along with everything else. And it makes it difficult to…” I stop, choking on the rest of the words.

“Makes it difficult to what?” George asks.

“To trust you,” I whisper.

“Roya, from my perspective, you’re going to have a hard time trusting anyone for a while.” He pauses. “Those who are worth trusting will understand. They’ll be patient and gentle with you, knowing in time you’ll come around.” His soft words feel like Whitney’s hands on mine, healing and comforting, making it easier to breathe.

A shiver runs down my spine. Maybe it’s a result of his words or maybe it’s from his cool breath brushing my ear. I turn my head sideways and only just catch the seriousness in his eyes before Ren storms into the room.

“Ever played with Legos?” Ren asks with arms folded across his chest. “Building a dreamscape is a lot like making something out of Legos, except it’s much more complex, as you might have guessed. Everything in a dreamscape is built layer upon layer. The pegs of all the building blocks must fit. You can’t go putting a square peg in a round hole. Of course there’s no real blocks in dreamscape building, so don’t get your hopes up that this is all going to be like preschool. I’m referring to metaphorical blocks, of course.

“Dreamscapes are all mind over matter, or rather mind creates matter. The locations are fixed, just like the individual Legos in a set. How you weave your way through them, just like how you stack your blocks together, is what inevitably creates the layers, which are the fibers of a dreamscape. Inside each layer, nothing is fixed. It will look as it does in the physical reality, but you’re in a dreaming consciousness.

“What you need to remember is that everything’s subject to change, either by your doing or by another Dream Traveler. Herein lies the complexity of dreamscape building. If you don’t like a location, travel to another. If you want to change the way it looks, create an illusion. If you need an object, summon it. Dreamscape building is about harnessing consciousness in order to manifest anything you desire.” Ren clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. “Sadly, I’m giving a graduate-level lecture to a bunch of kindergarteners. Which is why the lot of you are giving me a bunch of blank stares. Let’s move on to strategy before all of your heads explode.

“You all will start together.” He waves his hand flippantly at us. “Then one by one you’ll leave a person behind. The idea is to throw Zhuang off and make the layers more complex. It probably won’t work and you’ll all die, but what the hey, let’s give it go,” he chants with zero enthusiasm.

“Alternates, you will be outfitted with a headset and handheld monitor to view Roya’s activity. It’s important to stay focused on what’s happening in your own environment. I suspect Zhuang will come after one of you at some point and if you’re careless you’ll get caught. Even still you’ll all probably get caught and die, but let’s delay this as long as possible.”

The rest of the lecture we spend strategizing for each dream layer. My head’s cloudy when Ren turns to me. “Roya,” he says, emphasizing the last syllable. “Three things: First, if you only have minor injuries try and suck it up. Only travel to Whitney if the injury is life-threatening.” He turns and faces Whitney. “Gal, you can guarantee Ms. Stark will visit you at least once before she dies.” Ren flashes a toothy grin at me. “Secondly, get a list of the GAD-C locations from Aiden. This could prove useful if you have to abandon our current plan and throw Zhuang off the scent. The best way to do this is to return to your body and dream travel again.” He turns and strides toward the exit. “Lastly, die gracefully, you’re a Lucidite for God’s sake.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

T
rey’s face makes my stomach flip-flop with anger and confusion when he takes the stage in the main hall at lunch. Joseph and I have to move forward and support each other. That’s obvious. If I don’t have Joseph I’ll die sooner rather than later. However, I don’t have any obligation to anyone else. The way Trey, Flynn, and the Institute have controlled and manipulated my life since the beginning is weird. A part of me appreciates that they cared enough to protect us. But still the whole thing is peculiar.

Trey stands on the platform, looking out at the crowd with remorse. “Can I have your attention please,” he says, running his hands through his hair.

At his command, a hush falls on the room.

“Flynn, the great founder and leader of this Institute, has been murdered.” Trey chokes on the last word. Audible gasps, the melodramatic ones I picture in movies, fall out of people’s mouths. A commotion breaks out in the back of the room and I force myself to stay focused forward. Beside our table, a lady cries loudly before burying her face in her neighbor’s shoulder.

The once quiet room is now a commotion of noise and emotion which immediately draws my attention to George. I’ve never seen him look so overwhelmed.
How much sorrow is he feeling all at once?
I grab his outstretched hand and he immediately takes it. He squeezes my hand so hard my fingers swells under pressure. He looks at me apologetically, but I shake him off and squeeze his hand to let him know it’s fine. And though he smiles I know inside he’s being assaulted from every angle with despair and misery.

I didn’t know Flynn, but the eruption of emotion in this room is enough to convince me he was someone worth knowing. Instantly I’m remorseful that he died before I had the chance to meet him. That’s my grief, and it’s lame compared to those around me, but still it’s all I have.

“Zhuang is responsible for this. That I’m certain of, although I have no other details,” Trey says over the noise in the crowd. “I’m hopeful Flynn has forged a path for us that will lead to Zhuang’s defeat.” With that, Trey walks off the stage and out of the room.

Whispers and sobs fill the air and slowly begin to rise in volume. I continue to hold George’s hand. After a long spell the commotion dies down and I feel the calm settle over him, almost like it has settled over me. I bring my chin up to join his gaze and he mouths the words “thank you.”

♦

Joseph and I walk the halls, searching for nothing.

“Stark, you scared?” Joseph says.

“The thing I don’t like about you—”

“Is I know what you’re gonna say before you say it,” Joseph jokes.

“No.” I roll my eyes. “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say the thing I don’t like about you and me is we haven’t had much time together. I’m not scared as much as regretful. I’ve spent my life living inside my head. Now I can go anywhere. I have a brother. There’s a place where people actually value my abilities. I’m regretful all this is about to come to an end.”

“Well, I’m scared,” Joseph says after a minute.

I stop and stare into Joseph’s green eyes. They’re the same shade as mine.
How haven’t I noticed that before?

“I’m scared,” he continues, “’cause I can’t protect you. I’m helpless. My dreams are all about how I’m just gonna stand by and watch you die. You’re regretful about losing a life you won’t get to live. I’m scared
’bout
continuing to live after losing you, and being a complete failure.”

“Fine,” I say dully. “You win. Your woes sound much worse than mine.”

We walk in silence for a while. “Hey!” I say finally. “When I die you can have my iPod.”

Joseph doesn’t laugh like I expected but instead gives an uneasy expression.

“What?” I question him.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda weird that a Head of the Institute gave you such a nice gift?” he says, looking incredulous.

I stop and face him directly. “There’s nothing going on between us, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

Joseph gives me an unconvinced look. “You forget I read your dream journal.”

“Not that any of this is your business, but Aiden has lost any favor from me. I’ll never forgive him for the lies and deceit.”

“
Never
is a strong word.”

“That’s why I chose it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t use absolutes.”

“Whatever. I want nothing to do with a guy who thinks it’s fantastic that he can program people’s thoughts. Honestly, I should have probably given back the iPod but music is actually a great motivator for me.”

Joseph sets his jaw firmly, still looking unconvinced.

“It’s true,” I say. “I hear the emotions in the lyrics and they give me an odd sense of faith.”

Again Joseph stares at me, skepticism making his eyes look sharp. “Don’t you think keeping the gift gives Aiden a certain expectation?”

“No!” I slap him on the arm. “Would you stop being so judgmental? Some of us need something to give us faith because we don’t have Jesus in our corner to rely on. Why don’t you ask him to keep an extra eye on me, or whatever he does.”

Joseph sighs. “I’ll try but…”

I stop. “Oh no, that’s been a lie too, hasn’t it?”

“Well, not exactly. I was raised Baptist. Honestly, I wish I was religious. I wish I had a place to turn right now. I can’t say I’ve ever felt the Holy Spirit or anything remotely close.”

“Fine,” I say lightheartedly. “I’ll pray for the both of us and you just go and write down all the lies so I know what’s real.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

T
hankfully, Samara’s harder to track than Trent, giving both George and me better practice. Most of the time I’m able to absorb the tracers in her ripple before it dissipates. However, for whatever reason, she’s tougher to follow. I have to go to a deeper meditative state in order to allow my consciousness to track her and it’s a draining process. By the second layer I’m already exhausted.

“How about we trade places,” Samara offers when we all meet back up. “Maybe switching things up will make Roya feel better.”

“Sure.” George locks eyes on me, concern written on his face. I give him a reassuring smile and push down the dizziness swimming in my head.

He hands the earpiece to Samara, who takes it with a gracefulness I’ve failed to harness.

“I’ll take off as soon as you’re ready,” he says to me with a steady glance.

“Okay.” I nod, trying to keep my dinner from coming up. This whole process is much more taxing than I expected. I close my eyes and take five deliberate breaths. By the last one, I’m contained once more and open my eyes to a patient George.

“Ready,” I call to him.

“Don’t overdo it, Roya,” George warns and then disappears. His coarse words hang in the air, sending a strange eagerness along the surface of my skin.

I flow to his ripple, seeing it clearly since I know where to look. In an instant I sense a vibration. It’s soft, like the curves of a flower petal. I can’t describe it, let alone follow it. Slowly I ease into the space, hoping it will unveil its secrets to me. All I feel is the space around me edging out like an empty room. With my eyes closed I try to focus, to follow George, to allow my consciousness to be transported, but I remain trapped. Stationary. Immobile.

“Can you get a read for me?” I ask Samara.

“Why?” she says.

“Why do you think?” I flinch, feeling hot.

“Oh.” The reality must have dawned on her. “Hold on a second.”

Quiet seconds dance across my ears as George’s ripple disappears.

The good news is Samara finds it pretty straightforward to get into his head and find his location.

I’m breathless, three layers behind him, when her voice squeaks in my ear. “Probably shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“What?” I tense.

“Well, I wouldn’t say anything normally, but I think he wants you to know. And since we’re all about to die anyway...”

I land in a well-manicured park and search. The rows of rosebushes and topiaries are unblemished by a ripple though. I squint, looking for any place where the space looks blurred. Nothing. “First I need a location,” I say.

“Times Square. Present.” Samara says with an edge of doubt.

I begin traveling and she continues, “Here’s the thing. Sometimes I spy on people’s thoughts and they’re disrupted every so often by competing ones. You’ve heard people say they have something on their mind, right? Well, for these people all unrelated thoughts will probably be interrupted by that overwhelming one. Nothing is linear. It all interacts in some fashion or another.”