Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2) (26 page)

I thrust the storm forward. As it moves, it sweeps my hair around my face, stroking me like soft sandpaper. I cover my face from the debris unleashed by the powerful winds. When its gusts fade I open my eyes to the most stunning sight.

There in front of me, at exactly my height, is a cyclone. It hovers in place for a moment before ripping through the pond, spraying water all over the walls of the cave and the nearby banks. The illusion of the droplet can’t be seen through all of the wind’s disruptions. Still furious, I roar so loud that my chest vibrates. My cyclone shoots forward and bursts into a pile of rocks sending it in all directions. The pond doesn’t exist anymore. Its water has exploded onto the nearby stones and walls. The hypnotic illusion is gone. Destroyed.

Chapter Thirty-Four

A
ll at once exhaustion crashes down on me. My legs give way, sending me to the stone ground where I can barely hold myself up on all fours. The power it took to harness the wind drained every last bit of energy I have left. Ironically the breath I need so much to survive is almost too taxing a chore for my lungs to perform. I close my eyes to an inky-black darkness. It’s vast. Swallows me. Traps me in a blind prison. Seeps the tiny bit of energy I have left.

And then a spark. So small. Again it flickers across my vision, like fire. With a sudden renewed energy I raise my head. My eyes burst open to the one sight I never thought I’d see again. Crouched before me is Joseph, a tired look of concern on his face. His hand reaches out, touches my forehead. And warmth, like sunlight, flows into me, revitalizing my depleted reserves. A trace of a smile tugs on his lips. “Thanks,” I say, my voice shredded.

“My energy is yours,” Joseph says, an earnest generosity in his eyes.

The rest of my team is soaking wet and moving, albeit slowly. They look disoriented and slightly burned from the water, but they’ve been released. All of them but Pearl, who’s back in frozen robot mode.

Rising, I move to George’s side. He’s rubbing his eyes, smearing blood all over his already battered face. I begin pushing away some of the blood from his eyes with my fingertips. A quiet, intimate moment passes where I communicate something deep, not caring if his ability has returned yet. This emotion isn’t for him. It’s one I need to feel. Not taking my eyes off George I say, “Hey, Joseph.” He doesn’t respond, but I sense my brother at my shoulder. “Watch Pearl at all times.”

“K,” he says, shuffling behind me.

“Are you all right?” I ask George, a tenderness tightening around my heart.

He shakes his head, looking at me but seeming blind. “I don’t know.”

I cup his face. He’s fragile somehow. “You will be all right.”

I spy Trent over his shoulder, looking not as far off, but still confused.

George grimaces, his hand grasping his side. “Pearl fixed you, right?” I ask.

“Kind of,” Trent answers for him.

I don’t ask permission, but instead pull up George’s torn armor. The wound is mostly sealed, but still bleeding.

“She was half done when we got pulled away,” Trent explains, joining me. “She’d sealed up his leg and some of the more serious lacerations on his neck, but she didn’t finish with that one.” Trent shoots George a faint smile. “I’d take it easy if I were you.”

“I’ll try,” he says, breathing through the pain.

“I want you out of here,” I demand.

“No,” he says, gritting his teeth.

“Our healer is gone. You need attention now.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Don’t argue with me,” I whisper two inches from his face.

“How will you find Aiden without me?” he says.

My mind dead-ends in frustration. He’s right. We don’t know exactly where Aiden is and without George’s empathesis I’m not sure we can locate him quickly enough. I ease back on my heels, my heart thundering. There has to be an alternative other than risking George’s life to save Aiden’s.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. There’s only one cure for that,” I say.

He pushes himself up with great effort. “But I’m still fine.”

“Trent.” I turn to him.

“Yeah, boss,” he says, looking a million times better than he did five minutes ago.

“Keep an eye on this one.” I motion at George.

Samara and Joseph stand rigidly beside Pearl. Thankfully they hadn’t been under the hypnosis for long. Still, Joseph gave some of his energy to me, meaning we’re both weak. With over half the team injured and depleted we need to find Aiden and get out of here…before it’s too late. My eyes flick to Pearl. In her present state I’m not sure I can send her back to the Institute. Nothing from my training covered this. With Chase controlling her I’m uncertain what risks she poses once inside the walls of the Institute. And once he knows how to enter our walls, will we ever be safe again? I’m not sure if I can allow her to return. The idea scorches my heart with instant guilt. How can I banish her here? Is that better than what Ren would have me do?

From the other side of the room echoes a weak cough. All our heads snap in that direction. A short young man limps along the stone floor, a contorted hand pinned at his chest. He wobbles through the sunlight portion of the room and toward us. His jawline is uneven and the hair on his head grows in patches. I assemble the group behind me, although I’m not sure why. I don’t feel the least bit of fear from this weak and feeble creature.

Only a few feet from us, he stops. Wheezes. “Since nothing I have done appears to stop you, Roya, then I think we only have one more option.” The man looks at me with crossed brown eyes. Strangely, he doesn’t have a French accent. Doesn’t have an accent at all. Each word is pronounced with an odd precision. “Let us try talking.”

I have a hard time believing this tiny man is Chase. Somehow I pictured him differently. Strong. Healthy. Older.

“I don’t want anyone to die,” Chase says, forehead wrinkling. “You must know that. We both have goals and maybe if we sit down and discuss them we can find an option that pleases both parties.”

I study him, watching every mannerism, dissecting his sincerity. “Aiden is fine,” Chase offers. “You know it was his choice to come here? He has discovered a happy life as a Voyageur.”

Something is wrong about this, but I can’t figure it out. What’s the trick here?

“You don’t believe me, your face tells me that much. The Lucidites have brainwashed you to fight us, but is that really what you want to do? I truly don’t want to fight,” the man says in his strange voice. “The Lucidites always want to battle us, when all we want is to work together. Don’t be like them.”

His words strum a note, one I resist to label persuasive. Still, what if I’ve perceived everything wrong? This is the complete opposite of what I’ve been taught. But I’ve been taught by the Lucidites. What if it’s true? Studiously apprising Chase, I realize I don’t fear him. What’s more, something compels me to believe him. As he tries to focus his crossed eyes on me I realize I pity him, like a lonely, elderly man in a mental hospital.

“Come and sit and we’ll talk,” he says, gesturing to a set of rocks. “It’s time we acted civilized, don’t you think?”

Uncertainty squirms around my mind. Not letting him out of my sight I gauge my group. Their uniform faces tell me they harbor the same hesitation. “Joseph,” I call, standing at my back, “keep a guard on Pearl?”

“There’s no need for that,” Chase chimes. “I’ve released her.”

I turn to Pearl. “It’s true, he has. I’m fine.” She pushes her hair back behind her ear and squints.

I give Joseph a look and he seems to understand. He nods. Turning back I make note of Samara standing on one side of me, seeming to be on guard of the entrance where Chase had come from. Trent is on my other side and he’s mostly steady, although at times he kind of wavers a bit, still recovering from the hypnosis.

Chase motions with his good arm. “Won’t you join me over here for a private chat? We can resolve this all, I’m sure.”

A clairvoyant flash bursts across my vision: A different man stands before me. He’s spookily similar to Chase. His mannerisms. His teeth. His voice. But the man in my vision is tall, with black hair, pale skin, and electric blue eyes. His eyes pierce me, trying to cut from the inside out. The vision fades and I know exactly what I have to do.

At lightning speed I whip the sword out of Samara’s sheath and raise it in the air. The crippled man doesn’t run, flinch, or fight. The sword is heavy in my weakened arms. Still I drive it down cleanly, slicing the projection in two. It explodes into a cloud of dust and smoke. Incensed breaths pound my chest up and down. Not Chase. Just another trick.

Stunned expressions stare back at me from my team members. I shrug, at a loss for words. Flipping the sword around I hand it back to Samara, feeling a huge weight lifted when she takes it.

Clapping reverberates from the entrance. A sharp, steady sound. A figure enters, taking the same path that the crippled man had just taken. However, he glides across the space, his movements too graceful, too seamless. It’s the man from my vision and he’s no doubt the most attractive person I’ve ever laid eyes on. His jet black hair is smooth and pushed away from his intoxicatingly flawless face. Stark white skin makes his pink lips stand out more than any mouth I’d ever noticed. He floats closer, still clapping.

Unnerved by his perfection, I gasp. I can’t believe he elicits this response from me. Pausing a few feet from me, he drops his hands by his side. Unnaturally drawn to him, I take two steps closer. A smile curls from his mouth and he stares at me ravenously. I’m not afraid in this moment. I’m absolutely trembling inside, but it’s from the adrenaline produced when this man strode into the room.

Taking off to my left he makes a tight circle around me, like a wolf. Solid, straight-backed, I listen to each of his footsteps. “Congratulations, Roya.” It’s the same voice from the projection, but now it does something different to me. Undoes my restraints. Entices hedonism. “You,” he says, lingering on the word. “
You
resisted my hypnosis.
You
destroyed my illusion.
You
spotted my projection. And
you
control the wind. Ms. Stark, pardon me if this sounds forward, but I think you’re my soul mate.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

C
hase completes a full circle around me. I remain frozen, completely petrified as he stares, and I can tell he’s restraining a smile. I don’t even blink when he leans down and whispers in my ear, “Together, you and I would be amazing.”

His voice penetrates a part of my core. There’s something really wrong about this situation. I figured my skin would be crawling right now, but it isn’t. Arousal prickles down my neck, unleashed by his whispered breath.

Chase’s eyes lift, evaluating the group behind me with a threatening glare. Like shaking off his last hypnosis, I force myself back from this weird place he’s sent me. Two steps backwards put me flush up against George. Joseph steps forward, directly on my right. His presence reassures me I’m not dreaming.

Now focusing solely on me, Chase snakes his electric blue eyes up and down my body. When he meets my eyes, he tilts his head, a lusciously satisfied expression on his face. “You obviously want to protect them,” he says, gracefully gesturing at the group. “How about I let them go? Hell, I’ll even release Aiden.” His lips purse seductively. “But I want to keep you.”

“How about,” I say, testing my voice, “you let Aiden go, let us all go, and I won’t kill you.” I’m bluffing. I don’t have a clue how to kill Chase. And strangely I don’t want to right now. The last thing I want to do is harm him.

He grabs his chest and pretends to look hurt. “Oh, Roya,” he says in a hushed voice. “Your threats disappoint me so. I was dearly hoping we could be more than
just
enemies.” His eyes pierce me like I saw in my vision, cutting open my essence. Damn it if he isn’t the most striking person who ever lived.

A scream shatters the air. High-pitched. Assaulting. Instantly I spin around to the source. Pearl stands, mouth open, blood curdling at her throat. Wide eyes stare at nothing. Horror rips through me as I try to compute what’s happening. The blood-drenched dagger slips from her hand as she drops to her knees and falls straight on her face. Samara stands directly behind her, a traumatized look of disbelief on her long face. Plunged into Pearl’s back is Samara’s silver sword.

The same scream as before bursts from Samara’s mouth. Gripping her cheeks in the oddest of ways she shakes her head erratically. “NO! NO! NO! NO!” she screams, staring at Pearl’s dead body. Samara makes to reach for her but then retreats, now on the brink of hyperventilating. “I didn’t…I…I…I…” A loud wail makes her lips tremble.

Poised and ready with my escrima stick in hand, I approach Samara, careful to keep Chase in my line of vision. “What happened?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.

A torrent of tears floods her red cheeks. “I...I…I…I…” she says, only focusing on the blood oozing around the sword in Pearl’s back.

“Samara,” I say. “It’s okay. Tell us what happened.”

Her gray eyes flick to mine, confused, like she just realized I was here. Again her head shakes, like a dog’s after a bath, but with no joy. Whitish blonde hair tangles around her face when she lifts her chin and this time fastens her eyes on Joseph.

“Pearl,” she says to Joseph, her voice tattered from tears. “She was about to cut your throat. You
have
to believe me. You
have
to believe me.”

Joseph’s face couldn’t be any whiter, but his expression darkens.

“We believe you, Samara,” I say cautiously.

She nods her head, a strange confidence returning from my endorsement. “She was behind you, Joseph. I heard her think,
cut his throat
. I had to stop her.”

Pearl’s dead body lies face down on the ground, Allouette’s curved dagger a few inches from her fingers.

Oh God, this just got to a new level of sick.

Samara’s words are hysterical, a rush of emotion. “Him! It was him! He was never going to let her go. He was making her do it!” A long finger points directly at Chase. “It was your voice in her head, controlling her thoughts.”