Revived (The Lucidites Book 3) (36 page)

I take each step, careful not to make a single sound. Ahead someone sways, their back to us. They’re cowering over a kneeling figure, which looks only half conscious. I’m so focused on deciphering the scene ahead of us I hardly register the flicker in my peripheral. I edge my eyes to the left and what I see sends me to the far side of the hallway in three silent steps. Joseph slides up next to me, grabs my arm. “What the hell?”

“Rattlesnakes,” I mouth.

He flips his head to the side and spies the pile of snakes slipping through the open AC vent, tumbling over each other as they swarm to the center of the lobby, the same as us. Joseph shivers. “Damn,” he mouths.

I nod, refocusing on the battle up ahead, twenty feet away. Sparks spray above our heads from severed wires in the canned lighting. A small electrical fire brews in the display case, but thankfully the water squirting from various cracks is keeping it at bay. An ache slips through my chest to see this destruction. The walls feel like they’re about to be crushed by the water that lies overhead. This water, which has always protected us, now pushes in, threatening to rip the Institute into pieces. And when it does we’re all going to float away, just as we floated in here. My heart aches with a giant tenderness for the Institute which is about to be demolished and washed into the ocean, destroyed forever. It’s not a place to me anymore. It has such strong characteristics and emotions filling its halls that it’s more like a person. Like a family member. Whether I was willing to admit it before, this place has edged its way into my heart. It’s my home. And no one destroys my home. I swallow down vengeance, bottling it for a single fight.

Sliding along the wall, I progress closer to the lobby, not daring to take anything more than shallow breaths. The leather couch is overturned. On top it’s littered with broken pieces of the coffee table, objects from the display case, and the large ficus tree that used to reside in the far corner. The foliage-rich tree lies on its side, dirt spilled all over the area underneath it. My eyes travel down to find two legs protruding out from under the couch. The black boots are unmistakably Shuman’s. She’s lying face down and is pinned from the mid-thigh up. The weight on top of her would be enough to crush a normal person. But Shuman isn’t built like a normal person, she’s built like a warrior. However, her legs lie unmoving. If I was Trent then I could move all that’s burying her. Instead, I just stare at her legs blankly, letting the surrealism of this experience wash over me.

The smell of burning hair, sulfuric and bitter, assaults my nostrils. Sparks rain from exposed wires over Ren’s head. He’s strapped in a chair by cords frayed at their ends. As if they possess a life of their own they slide around him like snakes. Tiny puffs of smoke linger up every time a burst of sparks shower down on him, making his face contort with pain. Similar to the hair of Medusa, the black-encased wires continuously journey around Ren’s torso, squeezing him every so often, turning his face a color that matches his hair.

We’re roughly ten feet from the action when I recognize the kneeled figure as Trey. Reflexively I gasp.
No!
Tears I never knew could be connected to him spring to my eyes. My heart races with panic.

On all fours, head sagging, he looks so much closer to death than life right now. Zhuang strides in front of him, his sword swinging by his side.

“You have a choice. I can plunge this sword into you, ending your meaningless life. Or I can suck your consciousness out,” Zhuang says, pinching Trey’s chin and pulling it up so he’s looking at him. Most of his face is covered in blood. A sickening feeling unfurls in my stomach at the sight of my father in such a grotesque state. “Your blood does not need to be spilled. That would be a waste. Make this easy and bring down your shield, releasing your consciousness to me,” Zhuang hisses in a low voice, pulling his hand off Trey and wiping the blood on his white silk robes. “I want that life force within you. It will be enormously useful as I besiege the world with my presence. And then I want your daughter’s. That’s all, and I’ll leave your precious Institute.”

“You’re not getting either,” Trey says, spitting blood on the floor. “We’d both die before we gave you that.”

And Trey’s right. I would. I know giving Zhuang the power I hold in my consciousness would allow him to rise to greater strengths, ones that would undoubtedly mutilate the world.

Zhuang tucks the tip of the sword under Trey’s chin, holding his head up at an odd angle. “Let me in. Let me have your power. Give it to me now, and this will all be over.” He presses the point of the sword firmer into Trey’s neck, my father grimacing from the pressure.

“No. Never,” he says, angling his head back away from the blade.

Zhuang flips the sword around, sheathing it with a heavy sigh. “Prepare to say goodbye to your friend.” The lobby erupts with Ren’s guttural scream. It rips though the air as the cords reach around him and jerk in tighter. Ren’s face turns a shade of ultraviolet. He looks close to bursting from the pressure. The end of the cord unravels itself from Ren’s body and winds its way around his neck. Ren doesn’t appear to care as he struggles to bring oxygen into his lungs after being so tightly constricted. I know Trey wouldn’t choose to watch this, but Zhuang grips his hair, forcing his face up. The end of the cord treads once more around Ren’s throat. Zhuang laughs. Turning his attention away from Ren he presses a thumb into a laceration in Trey’s side. “Last chance to give me what I want,” Zhuang says in a gravelly voice.

“No!” Trey says through the pain.

Pulling his bloody hand out of Trey’s ribcage, Zhuang stands up straight. “Give me your power before I take it by killing every single person you have serving you!”

“You’re going to kill us anyway,” Trey says through wheezing breaths.

“So true,” Zhuang sneers broadly. “But I wasn’t planning on killing
them
in front of you.” Faster than a cheetah he spins around, facing us. His silk robes billow around his lean and muscular frame. Somehow Zhuang appears taller than the last time we met and significantly more menacing as he peers at me behind black and golden eyes. I search for a place in them that’s human, but all I see are the many demonic compartments which possess him with uncontrollable wickedness.

Trey gasps, blood spewing from his mouth. “Damn it, Roya and Joseph! Get out of here!” He tries to stand but winds up on the ground after a failed attempt to walk, heaving on hands and knees.

I try not to look at my father, hunched over on all fours as he spits blood on the blue fibers of the carpet. He clutches his stomach, which is badly slashed. Ren’s breathing in the corner, but looks to be on the verge of passing out. The noose around his neck hangs loosely and I’m grateful to see that the cords have stopped moving momentarily.

Sliding his sword through his hands, Zhuang lets the blood from it trickle onto his fingers and eyes it hungrily. “Little girl, I see you have come to die. This is smart of you. I shall suck out your consciousness and then I’ll have no trouble obtaining your father’s.”

“We’ve come to kill
you
,” I say, feeling the adrenaline in me taking effect.

The laughter from Zhuang’s tiny frame fills the destructed room. “You’re as disillusioned as your father if you think you and your naïve brother stand a chance. Look at this pathetic man.” Zhuang pulls Trey up by his silver hair and speaks next to his drained face. “He’s as arrogant as you. He thought he stood a chance against me. Now he will watch you both die as punishment for his foolishness.” Zhuang lets the blood-drenched hair slide from his fingertips and Trey’s head hangs low again. “And then your father will give me what I want.”

Joseph pushes his sleeves up to his elbows. Only anger registers in his eyes when he speaks. “Would you shut up already? Put down that damn sword and fight us like a man, you evil parasite!”

The smirk drops from Zhuang’s narrow face. The sword hits the ground with a loud clunk. “As you wish.”

Chapter Forty-Four

A
s if cued each of us sinks down low into a fighting stance. Zhuang’s gold eyes dart between me and my brother. I confirm that my shield is up and strong so that he can’t penetrate my thoughts. This is even more of a concern for Joseph since he and Zhuang now share a link. According to Trey, Zhuang leeching Joseph’s power meant he knew the workings of his brain and therefore how to break his defenses. During our practices we worked to find new strategies to shield Zhuang and I’m hoping that it works. If it doesn’t then we’ll know soon.

I never thought I’d enter a fight hoping to get myself cornered into a place where I’m about to die. However, that’s the only reason for this fight. It’s a show. The truth is there’s no winning against Zhuang. Not in a fight. He will only be overpowered by someone more powerful than him, and none of the people in this room meet that criterion. I nod at Joseph, one that says,
let this deadly show begin.
My only prayer is that Joseph’s assistance doesn’t get him killed.

Just as we rehearsed, we take the offensive immediately. Joseph spins around to the other side of Zhuang and I take the front. Zhuang’s pockmarked chin twitches. He wasn’t expecting this approach, which means we’re on the right track. When fighting to lose, it’s easier to take risks, knowing when they don’t pay off, it won’t matter.

The three of us dance around each other. I keep a close eye, waiting to see the flex of Zhuang’s muscles or the pivot in his foot telegraphing an oncoming attack. I’m fairly certain he’s delaying, trying to get through Joseph’s shield and therefore capture the workings of our plan. We can’t give him this precious time. I have to do the one thing he isn’t expecting: Strike first.

Bobbing side to side, I step forward with my back foot, rotate on my front, and whip my leg around in a spinning hook kick. My flexed heel slams across Zhuang’s face. He falls back from the attack, but remains standing, his snakelike eyes rimmed with ferocity. As intended, he’s pissed. Momentarily he’s distracted wiping a drip of blood from his lip which allows Joseph to unleash a series of punches. Being reckless means we aren’t conserving our energy. All attacks are meant to push Zhuang to a breaking point.

I reset and throw another round of kicks. The air around me feels lighter as the force of my kicks repeatedly drills into block after block. My feet hardly remain on the ground together for more than a half a second at any one time. However, Zhuang’s having no problem blocking my kicks on one side of him and Joseph on the other. At one point he simply sidesteps back and the kick I’d already launched connects with the side of my brother’s face. I falter back, giving Joseph a look of apology. That one look costs me the offensive and suddenly I’m forced to block attacks from Zhuang. His punches are fast. His fists thrust heavily against my forearms and legs. The cuts from Allouette are threatened by each assault. I know soon one is going to buckle back open, oozing blood. Thankfully I’m able to hold my blocks, but I’m quickly becoming dizzy from the speed. One false move and Zhuang will have me on the ground. I don’t want to be pummeled to bits; I only want to be placed into a position of threat. And I’m not quite there yet.

Joseph rams his body into Zhuang, pulling him away from me. The man hardly budges, though, and it takes him only inches to regain his footing. I’ve momentarily been tapped out of this fight and it’s weird to lamely watch from the sidelines as Zhuang drills punches into Joseph’s side and arms with practiced ease. We aren’t fast enough, but we knew that all along. It was never our intention to win this fight. Zhuang is stronger, more powerful, and quicker than ever before. Even with two on one we’re no match. This must be why he laughs wickedly every now and then after delivering a series of attacks. Our attempts are amusing him.

Now Joseph’s face is bleeding in multiple places. We need to progress to the next phase of the plan. I need to tap back into this fight. Joseph lunges low and sidesteps backward, putting a few feet between him and his challenger. Slowly the dance from earlier resumes. Zhuang is mostly untouched and has hardly wrinkled his robes from this altercation.

Trey looks like he’s just escaped a deadly car accident, and is only barely conscious. There’s something in his gaze that makes him seem somehow lost, like although he’s here right now he may never be the same after this. “Don’t,” he mouths at me.

Does he know what I’m about to do?

Trey’s mouth, red from the blood pouring out of his nose, pinches together. He shakes his head with a deliberate force.

Insanely cold water from a nearby leak sprays my back, making me cringe, and reminding me we have multiple ways we can meet our end tonight. “I have to,” I mouth back to him. Each of my words sharp and deliberate.

“No,” he mouths, his face haunted by dread.

The beat of my heart rams against my head. My face burns with heat as I refocus my attention on the fight. Everything’s moving rapidly. But when Joseph and I exchange looks the next sequence of events slows. He retreats. I take the center spot. I feel his reluctance, but he knows this is the way to the end. This is the way his vision informed us to move. I’m all too aware of Zhuang’s oncoming attack, spy the telegraphing of his joints as they lock into place. I can avoid it. Duck. Block. Move. Instead I stand upright. Pretend to be too slow for the kick that strikes across my face sending me to the ground. As soon as my head hits the soggy carpet Zhuang is leaning over me, his face inches from mine. “Just returning the gesture from before.” Zhuang’s breath smells like rotting fish. He bares yellow teeth and hisses into my face. “Surrender your consciousness to me or die by my sword.”

Now things are going to plan. I’m finally in mortal danger.
Hurray.
Taking down all my shields I reach out to him, knowing this is the moment he’s been waiting for. Although Zhuang is inching in closer to me I force out the fear. Focus on only one person. Like I’m dialing him on a telephone, I reach through time and space until I imagine that he’s received my message. Zhuang’s sword flies through the air and without taking his eyes off me it lands in his outstretched hand. Only then does Zhuang step back to allow for the distance he needs to swing. I know if this doesn’t work that seconds from now I’ll feel that blade.