Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (39 page)

Someone pumps my chest. Next their mouth is on mine. Urgent screams. My lungs inflate. Again and again and again and again someone compresses my chest. It isn’t working though. I’m going to die. I was in the water too long. I hadn’t traveled in time. I accept this. The darkness surrounding me is perfect, like a warm quilt on the coldest winter night. I reach out and grab it, wrap it around my body. It’s such a relief to finally die.

“No, Roya, you can’t give up! Don’t!” the voice cries from a distant part of a strange dream.

I ignore the voice. I ignore the intense burning in my core. And float away. I’m tired, so tired of fighting.

“Please…” he pleads erratically before pumping my chest and blowing sweet air into my mouth.

I taste his breath, but only in the ethereal sense. I’m already halfway down the staircase to the valley of death. The darkness cloaks me and I begin to float…

Chapter Forty-Eight

I’
ve died and been sentenced to hell. The darkness has delivered me to an unbearable fate, where I’ll burn in torment. One in which fire radiates from my chest and sears up my throat. If I was alive and could scream I would, but instead I explode into the darkness, clawing at it, trying to free myself.

My mind and heart barrel forward, begging to be pardoned. I am at the altar asking for forgiveness or penance or whatever will rescue me from the agonizing pain. I strike against the darkness, certain I’ve been unfairly damned. My fists repeatedly strike a wall until it relents. Water explodes through the cracks. Astonished and confused, I witness the water burst, but not from the wall, from me. It shoots from my lungs, through my throat, and out. Time ceases to exist. I urge the water to stop exploding, but still I erupt like a volcano, burning and engulfed by the flames within me.

The fire smolders until my eyelids flutter open and I recognize the world around me. A human one. Everything’s completely out of focus but still I recognize it. Blurry shapes move far away and then closer. My eyes shut and I fall into a dreamless sleep.

♦

The music isn’t what wakes me. It’s the fingers on my pulse. He’s a stranger. Through blurry vision I see him hold my wrist and then eye his watch. His cold stethoscope makes my chest feel bare, vulnerable. He says something, but I can’t process it, not yet. I fight to push up from the hard surface underneath me. The man turns and speaks, his voice deep. “She’s awake. I’ll send in the others.” He disappears.

With excruciating effort, I sit up and force my eyes to focus. Gradually the blurry masses of colors take shape, until the details of the room are clear. From the corner of my vision I see him advancing on me. Aiden’s movements are gradual, but swift. He rushes without running. I push up as he closes the last bit of space between us. His eyes are urgent, mixed with relief. It’s a sobering expression.

I’ve just dug my way out of a steep grave. And it isn’t until he wraps his arms around me that I truly know I’m alive. Maybe I haven’t lived until this moment, because I don’t remember ever feeling my heart so intensely. It thumps against Aiden’s chest. Each beat surreal.

Aiden draws back. He brushes a rogue piece of hair away from my face. “I told you I’d be here when you awoke.”

Biting my lip, I try to locate my missing breath. “Aiden,” I whisper.

He leans into me, and like I’m possessed by a magnetic force I simultaneously lean into him, erasing all boundaries. He stops only an inch from my face, his expression intense. Never before has one look communicated so much. Longing. Attraction. The definition of all those words explained perfectly in his gaze. He draws his hand up and cups my face, pulling me into him.

Our lips are less than half an inch apart. He pauses, but it isn’t because he’s asking permission or uncertain of his next move. He’s making every second count. Closing his blue eyes he softly lays his lips against mine. My aching lungs gasps as my heart races. His mouth tastes like desire. His lips dull the ache. His touch masks my pain and I’m undeserving, but I don’t care. I selfishly pull him in closer, needing this intimate moment to refill my soul. My hands find his hair and with greedy fingers gently tug. Each movement is both tender and wild, making me breathless for more. His lips kiss the corner of my mouth, my jaw, my neck. There he freezes. I listen to his breath. Feel it tickle my skin. A second later he levels his gaze to mine and I have to fight the urge to pull him closer. He looks to be fighting a similar impulse, which is maybe why he edges away. Immediately I want him back, close to me, making me warm with his arms, his passion. Aiden glances nervously over his shoulder.
Someone’s coming.
That’s what the voice had said when I awoke.

My senses are gradually returning. I’m in Aiden’s lab, perched on the GAD-C. Squeezing my eyes shut, I allow the most recent events to drift back to me.
He
generated my body.
His
were the lips that breathed air into my lungs.
His
hands were the ones that pushed into my chest.
He
was the one who wouldn’t give up, although I was dying.

“You.” I point at him with my eyes. “You saved my life.” I pull breath from the back of my aching lungs. “Again.”

“Just doing my job.” His eyes beam behind his glasses. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him as he rushes in and presses his lips against mine. For the second time that day, electricity pulses through me. Drawing back he smiles and winks. “Now you owe me
big
.”

I reach for him, but he simultaneously turns, sensing an approaching noise. The door slides open and faces pour into the room. Aiden retreats. Before I settle myself I’m engulfed by hugs and crowded by concerned faces. Their gazes reach out at me, but don’t truly connect. Sorrow traces the edges of everyone’s expression. These are faces which have just felt death.

Samara forces a weak smile to her lips. Trent pushes his hands into his pockets, maintaining eye contact with the floor. George—the only one to look directly at me—pierces me with remorse. “George!” My heart jumps into my throat. I push off the GAD-C, rushing to where he stands. My unsteady feet make me stagger forward. He catches me in his arms and wrenches me close, closer than I would have anticipated. Our faces meet, but only briefly before he senses my unease and lets me slide away.

“So, you’re all right?” I ask, gripping his strong forearms.

A twinkle shoots through his brown eyes. “More than ever.” He clutches me with urgency, pressing me against him. I awkwardly hold his neck and torso with my arms. His breaths are ones of strained relief and open the wound in my heart.

Shaking, I push away. He lets me go, but stays firmly gripping my hand. The look in his eyes makes me feel fragile. “But… I thought Zhuang had…”

“No.” He shakes his head in a deliberate manner. “I got away.”

The words flex in my mouth, but I haven’t the strength to say them.
Whitney.
Joseph. They didn’t get away.

Trey clears his throat. “Welcome back, Roya.” His voice steady, eyes red.

The others stare awkwardly.

“We know you’ve just awoken and need rest. The team just needed to lay their eyes on you first. We’ve all been very worried.” Trey’s voice catches on the last word.

“Where’s Joseph?” My voice is desperate, scared.

No one answers. They all look away. They’re cowards who won’t tell me what I now know to be true.

My nostrils flare. I urge the tears to remain inside. I hold my breath.
Zhuang really did kill them…

Trey continues. I can’t focus. His words pass through me as the inevitable truth sets in. Eyes locked on the ground, I make no attempts to listen to Trey. All I manage is to give audience to the thoughts racing in my crowded head.
My only family—gone. How could this happen? Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to die? Why Joseph? Without him how will I make sense of my life as a Lucidite? Without him, without him, without him…I’m alone.

The long inhale I took moments prior is running out. Trey is silent now. Pain around my heart rises until it settles as a lump in my throat. I’m not going to cry, not here, not in front of everyone.

“I’ve got to go.” I rush out of the room. Trey calls after me, but I ignore him. Tears are already clouding my vision. The drain is evident in my body. I lean forward. Will my legs to move. My steps are slow and clumsy. I can hardly manage walking; running is out of the question. Each step seeps my reserves. The thought of crawling to the elevator crosses my mind. The lump is now in the back of my mouth. Any second, emotion will spill out of me.
I already miss him so much.

My pride is the only thing willing me forward. Without it I surely will pass out in the hallway. This pain is mine though. I need to be alone with it. The elevators appear in my cloudy vision. Only ten feet or so. I can make it. Soon I’ll be in my room, with a door and solitude. Then I’ll let go.

The light radiates from the elevator button, a welcome sight. I blink back tears. The button, smooth under my fingertips, clicks when I press it. Steadier now, I glance back over my shoulder to make sure I’m not being followed.

I am.

I’ve heard of ghosts visiting their loved ones soon after their passing to offer comfort, to ease the pain. I’m not ready yet. It’s too soon. He should know that. Twenty feet away, standing squarely in the corridor, Joseph’s ghost stares at me. Swallowing back a piece of the tears, I tap the button rapidly. I bat my eyes, believing the extra moisture is playing tricks on me. He hovers in place for a second, then labors forward.

“Not nice to make me chase you, but I’ll do it if I have to.” There’s a rattle to Joseph’s voice. A wheeze as he limps.

My disillusions meet my reality head on. I scan the approaching figure. White bandages wrap around his bare torso. Exhaustion contorts his face. A mischievous smile is tucked at the corner of his mouth.

Determined, Joseph pushes forward, alternating between focusing on the ground and my stunned face. I have just taken that walk. I know it took all the strength I had to complete it. Now I stand renewed at the end, watching and trying to piece it all together.

“You’re not dead,” I say, bewildered and grateful.

“’Course not.” Joseph laughs and immediately grimaces in pain. “I told Trey and the team not to tell you about me. I wanted to surprise you.”

I shake my head. The urge to slap him in the head courses through me. “Surprise!? Are you out of your mind? I thought you were dead.” A tear edges to the surface. I blink it back. I swallow.

“I’m sorry. Poor decision on my part. I wasn’t thinking clearly obviously. After I heard you returned…When they said you were awake….Well, I tried to get to you as fast I could.”

The ache in my throat has returned, but it’s different. Joseph stands in front of me, his form solid and real. He’s hurt and weak. But alive. “You almost got yourself killed, you stupid idiot,” I say. I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze extra hard to ensure he’s real. His arms around me squeeze back.

“You’re one to talk, Stark.” He laughs and then yelps in pain. “Watch the ribs, will ya, sis?”

I pull back and look him over, taking in the edge of a smile on his face coupled with the tears in his eyes.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“I’m as good as a bullfrog on a summer’s night,” he sings.

“Whatever that means.” I smile broadly, relief spreading over the pain.

Chapter Forty-Nine

I
arrive first for the debriefing in room 222 the next morning. Bagels, fruit, coffee, and juice make the room less bare. Soon everyone arrives and they adorn the room with life. The sound of Samara and Trent chatting, Trey stirring his coffee, Joseph scribbling on paper; these are the sounds of life. Gratitude encircles me in a way I have yet to experience. My face flushes with warmth.

“Before we begin,” Trey says, “will you please join me in a moment of silence? Yesterday we lost a talented Lucidite and a wonderful member of this team. Whitney’s memory will not be forgotten.” Trey’s words are formal, yet sincere.

Just hearing Whitney’s name for the first time after the ordeal makes my insides burn with disgust. What Zhuang did to her was cruel. Heartless. Cowardly. The backs of my eyes prickle with tears when I think about her alone in that room, dying quietly as Zhuang’s blade cut into her. I shake my head and push back the emotion. Right now I haven’t the energy to grieve.

During the debriefing I learn we don’t really know whether to celebrate or not. Apparently, they were able to follow the events of what happened during the battle from the camera footage I provided. Once I returned to the Institute, Ren and Shuman traveled to the water treatment plant where they didn’t find Zhuang’s body.

After the fight thousands of hallucinators were released and are apparently regaining their consciousness. Conversely, an equal number of sleepwalkers, those further under Zhuang’s control, died within hours following the battle. The public doesn’t know how to interpret the events and are calling it a viral epidemic. This was a big news day, coupled with the tsunami in Hawaii, which devastated that area.

Trey thinks it’s most likely that Zhuang has survived and taken the lives of those sleepwalkers to recover. However, his energy reserves would have been depleted and therefore his connection with the hallucinators severed.

“Nevertheless, it’s just as likely that the opposite is true and Zhuang is in fact dead,” Trey says. “In time, we’ll know for sure. He never stays quiet for long.”

Trey is the only one who has spoken so far. It’s nice when George, Trent, and Samara are given a chance to speak. Each explains individually how they returned to the Institute once they knew Zhuang was on their trail. Then they gathered around a screen in this meeting room and watched the battle.

“I felt helpless watching,” Samara says. “I knew he was about to hit you with a dart too, but there was nothing I could do. He actually chose the forest because he knew that would slow down your clairvoyance and block my telepathic link with you.” I remember the feelings of apathy I harbored when I used to visit the woods by my house. This was from Zhuang’s influence. Ren had said it was a form of hypnotism.