Revived (The Lucidites Book 3) (14 page)

Only the Head Officials? They aren’t enough. They’re all going to be killed.
My eyes study the back of Aiden’s head. Suddenly I feel snapped in two and every emotion I’ve masked all morning seeks to spill out of me. Aiden doesn’t stand a chance. Zhuang will kill him. And although it’s not my place to care, I want to stop it. I want to stop Zhuang from killing anyone. A battle I didn’t know I wanted to be a part of has instantly become a personal crusade.

“This is all of the information that I have at the current time,” Trey says. I pull my eyes away from their focal point to find my father staring at me intently. There’s a message in his eyes, a warning. “I know this creates a new level of stress around the Institute,” he continues, sweeping his gaze around the auditorium. “Please stay alert at all times, report anything suspicious, and be willing to escape this place with no notice. I’m sorry that the Institute, which has been a safe haven to us for so long, will face danger. Please know that the Head Officials will be working diligently to restore the sanctity of this place as well as to protect Lucidites everywhere from Zhuang. Thank you.” Trey walks off the stage and disappears behind a door.

We all stay seated, staring ahead blankly, like we’re waiting for another show to perform on the stage where Trey exited.

“Zhuang sucks,” Samara finally says as people move around us toward the exit.

“You have no idea,” Joseph says, with a perverse laugh.

“Wonder who gave the report?” Trent says, puckering his lips like he’s sifting through possibilities.

Shuman stands and twists around. “The identity of the persons who make news reports is anonymous. Only the Head Officials are privy to that information.” She stalks away.

Trent rolls his eyes, not looking the least bit deterred. “I wonder if it was that old hippie lady who does the strange stuff with crystals,” Trent says. “Hey, Doc!”

Aiden, who’s been scribbling on a notepad, swivels his chin in Trent’s direction, looking unusually contemptuous. “Are you talking to me?”

“Well, I know you’re listening and yeah.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“Who made the report?” Trent asks, eyes eager with curiosity.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Aiden says, standing up. “Only that person has permission to disclose their identity.” His eyes flick to mine, then down to my hand lying less than an inch from George’s on the armrest. He tips his head at the group and hurries away.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Trent asks Joseph, giving him a look of unabashed pride.

Joseph shakes his head and inclines it at me.

“Roya?” Trent asks.

I pinch Joseph’s forearm. “That wasn’t your business to tell.”

“It’s T,” Joseph says, rubbing his arm like it might bruise. “He deserves to know.”

“Ah, man, Roya!” Trent says, jaw dropping. “If you knew why didn’t you tell us? We’re your team.”

“I just found out myself,” I say. “Once I turned the information over to Shuman I didn’t feel it was my place to tell anyone else. How was I supposed to know what I saw was real, anyway?”

“Because you’re freaking Roya Stark,” Trent says like that reason carries real weight.

“Well, let’s hope that Zhuang doesn’t decide to visit us right now,” Joseph says through a long yawn. “’Cause I need some rest.”

Trent shakes his head and laughs. “Funny how you act like the axis of this planet, while we’re trying to figure out how to save it.”

A vicious chuckle comes from Samara. “Yeah, exactly.”

Joseph looks at the group with an overexaggerated expression of hurt. “Oh, I didn’t realize you all were playing superheroes again. If so, I would have rethought my sleep schedule.”

I know Joseph is running to the end of his witty act. Soon the real emotions of what he’s feeling will boil to the surface, but I can’t let that happen. “Come on,” I say, tugging him up from his seat. “I’ll tuck you in and read you a bedtime story.”

Chapter Eighteen

“S
o why this place?” Steve asks as he and Bob join me on the slippery rock. I can hardly hear him over the crashing water of Sutherland Falls. Steve summons a parka and Bob quickly does the same. In unison they flip the hoods up over their heads, flinching from the cold spray. Although I back up so the roar of the plummeting water doesn’t interfere with our conversation too much, I actually enjoy the chilly mist as it sprays my face and arms. I don’t answer right away, just allow myself to be mesmerized by the water as it descends the last part of the multitier fall before entering Doubtful Sound.

“Well,” I finally say, “I chose this place because it’s the second largest waterfall in the world.”

“Second?” Steve asks curiously.

“Well, the first isn’t supposed to have the ‘wow’ factor that this one has,” I reply, looking up at over nineteen hundred feet of waterfall. It’s hypnotic, making me feel out of control and uninhibited. Much the same effect Chase has on me. I cringe at the uncanny similarities. Leave it to me to be stalked by a man who’s akin to a waterfall. Couldn’t have been the quiet-pond type, could it?

“You sure have a knack for choosing strange destinations, don’t you?” Bob notes, putting his soft arm around my shoulder and squeezing me in, but, I suspect, also using me to stabilize his balance.

“Well, I want our reunions to be memorable.” I shiver out a smile, watching the white water plunge into the sound. The endless cascading quickens my pulse like the steady flow of adrenaline during a battle.

“No worries of that.” Steve laughs, drawing his long frame up straighter and looking around cautiously.

“Don’t worry,” I say, patting his arm. “I don’t sense Chase is here right now.”

“You sense him when he’s around?” He raises a concerned eyebrow.

“The modifier he’s using is more powerful when he’s present, drawing me to him,” I say, my mind suddenly boggled by the strangeness of the words coming out of my mouth.

“Well, if you get any urges, let us know and we’re going to retreat from our dream travels,” Steve says, sounding almost as harsh as Trey.

“Yes sir,” I say, giving Bob a sneaky smile. He returns it with a wink.

“How is it when you’re at the Institute? Does whatever Chase is trying to do to you work there?” Steve asks.

It sounds as though when Trey informed Bob and Steve of the Chase situation he didn’t include that he was trying to make me fall in love with him. For that I’m grateful, but not surprised. Most everyone is used to getting only relevant details when being briefed by Trey. “Chase’s programming isn’t as strong there, and some of the time I can resist it,” I say, holding my hands out to greet the mist. It falls like dew on my fingertips.

“Then why do you dream travel?” Steve scratches his head, confused. “Why not just dream freely until this whole thing is fixed?”

I give a defeated shrug. “Wouldn’t matter. There are other horrors waiting for me when I dream,” I say, trying not to sound pitiful. “Everything with Chase has lent to rather awful dreams. I get that my subconscious is trying to work through it all, but it can be exhausting. And now with the newest threat…”

“We know Zhuang has returned,” Bob says, consoling me.

“And that he will enter the Institute,” Steve adds.

Right.
The information would have been published on the Lucidites’ newsfeed after the Institute was informed. “Without sounding melodramatic, it feels like everything is crashing down right now.”

“Hence the reason you’ve brought us here,” Steve says after a long minute.

“Probably.”

“I’m sorry, Roya,” Bob says, the corners of his mouth pinching together. “If we thought you’d be safe from Chase you could live with us and avoid the threat of Zhuang.”

A strange silence fills my head, drowning out the waterfall as I realize there’s no safe place for me in the world. Except here and now. Right now I’m safe, but that won’t last long.

“Did you know Joseph was the one responsible for bringing Zhuang back?” I ask, toeing the moist dirt and moss under my feet.

“What!?” Bob grips my arm in unexpected astonishment. “No, we were told that Zhuang was restored by the collection of hallucinators he had control over.”

That settles it. Trey’s covered this up for Joseph. That’s at least a sliver of sunshine in this dark day.

I nod. “I’m afraid so. He was tricked by Zhuang to think that he was reviving our estranged father. Sadly Joseph transferred a whole host of powers and information to Zhuang when he regenerated him. I suspect this is how Zhuang is now able to enter the Institute. He knows how it’s protected. Unfortunately, he probably knows everything that Joseph has ever known, which is too much for me to think about right now.”

“That’s really heartbreaking. How’s Joseph doing now?” Bob asks.

“About like you’d expect: a lot of self-loathing, a fair bit of depression, and bouts of anxiety since he can’t disclose any of it.”

“At least he has you,” Bob says.

“Yes, I’m grateful we have each other.”

“When Zhuang shows up,” Steve begins, looking earnest, “then the both of you need to dream travel to the GAD-C in Oklahoma. We will pick you up there. Once we’re all together we can decide on the next step given the immediate situation.”

I nod, without saying a word. No one knows, not even Joseph yet, that I have no intention of leaving the Institute. It isn’t pride that’s urging me to stick around when that dismal day comes. Maybe a part of it’s revenge, to kill Zhuang for what he did to Joseph and also Whitney, but there’s also a deeper reason. When I was elected as his challenger I didn’t want to believe our fates were somehow tied together, but now I know it without a doubt. Even if I escaped the Institute he’d still find me, or me him. We are as certain to meet as this waterfall is to crash into the sound below it. There’s just no way the two won’t find each other. I’m the one who gave the news report about Zhuang’s return. It was my brother he used to revive himself. It’s my father he’s coming to steal power from. When the sirens alert me that Zhuang has entered the Institute I’m going to finish the fight we started.

♦

“Hit me again,” I say.

George’s deep brown eyes, which right now remind me of fertile spring soil, stare intently. He nods and instantaneously I sense him press against my emotional shield, attempting to break through it and into my heart. The stress causes his jugular vein to rise to the surface of his skin and pulse with an incessant force as he concentrates. My eyes follow the vein down his neck and drift along his broad shoulders, taking in the contours of his chest. The momentary distraction is all it takes, and George surges through my shield and straight into my emotional center.

“Why thank you, Roya,” George says, voice low and husky, obviously sensing my attraction.

I flush, cracking the tiniest of smiles. “All right, that was a lousy attempt.” I rake my eyes over the blue carpet, trying to regain my composure. “I can do this. Just give me a minute to concentrate.”

“Take your time,” he says.

Backing up a few paces I shake my head, hoping my distractions will fall out of my ears, making this whole process easier. I spent the entire morning meditating upon my heart––something Shuman suggested. Although it does make me feel lighter, I’m unnerved by what I learned. The fears regarding intimacy and abandonment were of no surprise. Once those known emotions had been unearthed, however, I peeled back the layers until I was face-to-face with a blunt message.

Like warm sunshine, I feel George’s eyes on me. And know he feels this confusing emotion I’m allowing myself to review. In my meditation, I learned my heart felt secured by the fact that no matter what, George is always trying to fulfill my needs and desires. That wasn’t the startling part of the meditation though. The astounding message was almost like a direct order from my heart:
Let go and love him.

I awoke from the meditation like it had been a nightmare where I’d been running from a three-armed monster. For half an hour I tried to rationalize to myself that the message was false and just some stupid rambling from my subconscious. However, my subconscious doesn’t ramble quite like that and the word “love” is hardly ever used, especially in that context. There are times I know deep down when a message is authentic, and begrudgingly I have to admit this is one of those. But it’s weird to consider striking up a relationship under my current situation. I’m more afraid of the steps it will take to follow this direction. Also I’m worried of what everyone will think. I’m worried about how final this decision feels, like cement around my knees.

“May I offer some advice?” George slides his hands into his pockets, chin down.

“Go for it.”

“Motivation is key. You want to keep Chase out, right?”

“Of course,” I say.

“Well, I don’t get the impression you’re motivated to keep me out.” George angles his eyes up a bit and catches mine.

He bites his lip and I’m instantly enamored by this moment. I like the look in his eyes, the draw I feel to him, the way his teeth look as they bite into the soft, pink flesh of his lips. His hands push into his jean pockets, like he’s restraining himself. I even like the emotions deep inside me that are afraid to fully embrace the moment.

Pulling his hands out of his pockets and straightening, George says, “Why don’t you pretend I’m Chase. Maybe you’ll be motivated to keep me out.”

His advice does make sense. I’d been playing with this new attraction to him since we started practicing today and haven’t really committed to the idea of keeping him out of my heart. Actually a part of me believed that if he felt what I felt the next steps would be easier because he’d initiate something. That’s what I like most about George anyway; he reads me and gives me what I want when I want it.

“All right,” I nod. “You’re the despicable Chase.”

In my head I picture Chase: his captivating blue eyes, slick black hair, features so perfectly balanced I want to lose myself in them––but I don’t. I make myself remember who he is. I separate the facts in my mind from the deceptions Chase has done to my heart. The meditation this morning makes this easier.