The Violet Awakening (The Elementum Trinity Book 2) (2 page)

Lakin and I sat quietly, covered in the hands of the foggy-eyed others of our generation as they relived our previous day. For the first time, the comfort and safety of our white surroundings was matched by that of the reality in which I had fallen asleep. It took being removed from The Facility to realize how stifled I had felt while there, and that translated into the Room. The inevitable return to consciousness no longer loomed over me like a death-sentence. I would awake and be just as happy and free as I was at this exact moment.

The others remained silent as their eyes cleared, staring at us in amazement. Lyla, Bryant, and Joseph collapsed into their seats, while Nadia hovered in front of us—a statue on the brink of tears. Although the Energy Room had always been a sort of escape for the rest of us, to Nadia it was a prison. She had been confined to its vastness for years, and it seemed we could finally offer her the promise, or at least hope, of freedom.

“Oh, Nadia,” I whispered, meeting her with a sisterly hug.

Her cheerful tears dampened my shoulder, before Bryant came to retrieve her from my arms.

“So, you are coming to get us?” Lyla questioned. Her rigid tone caught me off guard.

“Yes,” Lakin answered bluntly.

“And then what? We just hide out under a lake for the rest of our lives?” she exclaimed, angry, and thrashing, and restrained only by Joseph’s grip.

I had not expected a hostile reaction from anyone, and it took me a long moment to find my words. “Look, I don’t know what happens next. But I guarantee that whatever the plan is, it’s better than William's guys getting a hold of you and locking you up in The Facility,” I said. “Which is exactly what will happen if you don’t come with us.”

“I think I’ll take my chances. I’d rather be on my own, than pent up with a bunch of hippie-farmers on some commune,” she huffed.

Something lingered in her tone that I couldn’t place. I had heard her rant in a blind fury plenty of times before, over things as simple as not getting enough pickles on her cheeseburger, but this was different. She wasn’t just rebelling for the sake of rebelling. Then, I saw it… In the split second that she glanced up through the corner of her eye, like she had done the night after ‘extracting’ herself from foster care, as if she were looking to the heavens for guidance. It was rare, for her, which was why it took so long for me to recognize; Lyla was scared. And she was trying, quite convincingly, to hide her fear with anger.

“What is wrong with you?” Nadia spoke up, her cheeks burning red. “We’ve been waiting for answers. Our entire lives, we have thought we were alone. Now, we get to be with people like us, and you’re turning this all away because... what? You’re a loner? You are part of this group, whether you like it or not. This is who you are.”

I had never witnessed Nadia speak with such conviction, and judging by their reactions, neither had any of the others. Even through my surprise—and slight proudness—at Nadia for speaking up, I felt bad for the redheaded girl sitting across from me. She was scared, and people were verbally attacking her. But she wanted us to think she was angry, and ours were the reactions she got for it. Lyla's face contorted in rage, her lips struggling for a response as she forced back tears. Finally, she turned to face Lakin and me.

“Don’t bother coming to get me.” And with that, she vanished from the Room.

Joseph's jaw dropped. His hands, which had been holding onto his girlfriend just moments before, fell hopelessly to his lap.

“Well... I didn’t see that coming,” Lakin announced, breaking the deafening silence.

“She’s your sister,” I joked, elbowing him in the side.

I felt a flutter in my gut, remembering that Lakin was not the only one with a sibling in the Room. I glanced at Bryant, who was still comforting an exceptionally emotional Nadia. My brother. I had a brother. Would we have acted differently toward each other if we had known? I imagined us lying side-by-side as infants, swaddled in soft white blankets. I could almost feel the tickle on my face of sunshine-colored hair as we stared into the warm eyes of our mother. I was unsure if I was imagining the moment, or if I had stumbled upon a forgotten memory.

“How are you making jokes, right now? What are you going to do about Lyla? We can’t just leave her behind,” Joseph shouted, nearly knocking his chair over as he jumped to his feet, pacing.

I sighed as his words blurred my possible recollection into oblivion.

“We’re not going to leave her behind,” I assured in my most soothing voice, which was, admittedly, less than soothing.

I began to reach for Joseph's shoulder, but quickly reconsidered. The look in his eyes suggested that physical contact could potentially result in the loss of a limb. Seeing as how I was fairly attached to my hand—emotionally, and physically—I decided on taking a step away.

Joseph was a good person. He was raised by a family who loved him, and he never took that for granted. But nothing could compare to the love he felt for Lyla. I knew this because it was the same love I felt for Lakin. Even good people, sometimes, do bad things when their loved ones are in danger.

“Nadia’s right. Lyla is a part of this group, and we'll find her.” Lakin backed me up, stepping between Joseph and myself for good measure. “We are in this together, every single one of us, whether we like it or not.”

Joseph stood as still as stone, contemplating Lakin's words. Pinching the bridge of his nose with frustration, he finally nodded, dropping back to his green chair with a thud.

There wasn’t much in the way of talking for the rest of the night. The Room felt uneasy, like we were strangers who had just shared a common secret. I’d expected more excitement from the others, but I didn’t know what that expectation had been based on. All of us finally being together, maybe. It hadn’t occurred to me that we were asking them to leave their entire lives behind, and that, maybe, they wouldn’t all be too fond of the idea.
Maybe
, some of them would be scared.

I awoke with a sharp, aching pain in my chest—anxiety, I suspected. The overwhelming feeling of not knowing what the coming days would hold. It didn’t take long to realize that anxiety was not the cause of the pain. At some point in the night, Lakin had flung his arm over me, and his bony elbow was jutting directly into my sternum.

A sleeping Lakin—that was something I had never seen before. He looked so peaceful with beams of light making their way through the windows, resting on the canvas of his face. I traced them with my fingers, smiling at the warm, electric feeling that sparked between our skins. Not long ago, had I watched the moment in a movie, I would have rolled my eyes and thrown a piece of half-eaten chocolate at the TV.

The sight of his eyelids fluttering open from sleepiness made me feel as peaceful as he looked. I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be—in my life, in time, in the universe… I was next to him.

“Hey.” He grinned, kissing the palm of my hand before I withdrew it from his face.

Exactly where I was meant to be.

“Good morning!” Lily cooed from the tiny kitchen, startling us at the realization that we were not alone. “I hope the floor wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

“It was fine,” I lied, stiffly propping myself up onto my elbows.

“Are pancakes all right?” she asked over the sounds of clinking from the stove.

My eyes widened at the gurgle of my stomach, which was surely loud enough for Lakin to hear. I was so hungry, I probably wouldn’t have protested against anything even remotely edible.

“Pancakes sound fantastic,” Lakin mumbled, helping me to my feet.

“How'd it go last night?” Al asked, drying his damp hair with a towel as he emerged from the hallway. Light glinted from a patch of shiny, pink skin on his upper arm, where a bullet had recently introduced itself to his anatomy.

Lakin and I glanced wearily at each other, silently deciding who would have to tell him about Lyla's unexpected reaction to the plan.

“Overall, I think it went pretty well,” Lakin said, nervously scratching his arm.

“Overall?” he questioned, voice soaked with suspicion.

“Lyla doesn't want to join us,” I sighed.

The sounds of Lily cooking in the background went quiet as she and Al stared at each other. I would never get used to being unable to hear a conversation that was happening right in front of me, and, personally, I thought it was a little rude.

“Did she mention why?” Al asked, as Lily went back to making pancakes.

“Something about not wanting to live in a commune of hippies,” Lakin said, nonchalantly waving his hand. I followed him to the table, thoroughly enchanted by the smell of food.

Al snorted, giving his hair one final scrub before letting the towel hang over his shoulder. I was relieved to see that he found Lyla's reaction humorous, because I was unsure of how to handle it. I was concerned that her refusal to cooperate would not only put herself at risk, but the rest of us, as well. The Eden offered us protection, unity, and answers; separation would only leave us vulnerable to dangers that could put all of our kind in jeopardy.

“Come on,” Al said, “I’ll show you guys how to work the shower.”

“I’m pretty sure we both have adequate experience with showers,” I said bluntly.

“Oh, then, by all means…” He bowed a little, waving his hands to the bathroom.

Lakin nodded at me, suggesting that I go first. I squared my shoulders, and scuttled around Al, whose eyes were gleaming with a mischievous smirk.

On the small counter of the bathroom, someone had set out two piles of folded clothes. I assumed they were straight out of Lily and Al’s closet, which wouldn’t be so much of a problem for me, as Lily and I appeared to be close to the same size… but Lakin would probably be swimming in anything that fit Al.

I was surprised by the style of clothes in, what I assumed was, my pile. They didn’t quite look like something Lily would have worn—shiny black pants, and a dark, gray-patterned T-shirt. Far too depressing for someone as perky as her, but they suited me just fine.

I drew shut the curtains of the window, just in case some random Elementum couldn’t control their peepers, and turned to the shower. I hadn’t really examined it the night before, but something about it was odd. At first, I couldn’t quite place what was off. It was shaped like a normal shower, it had a clear-plastic liner at the outside, and the bottom was deep enough to use as a bathtub. However, with a closer look, I found that there were no knobs, nor was there a faucet or showerhead. Confused, I awkwardly ran my hands along the tile walls, half-expecting something helpful to pop out at my touch. Nothing. I stood, for a moment, hands on my hips, glaring at the bare shower.

When I peeked my head out the bathroom door, Al was already waiting in the hallway, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall with a look of utter satisfaction.

“Need some help?”

“Maybe,” I mumbled, squinting at him.

He waved Lakin over, and we all crowded into the tiny bathroom. I eyed him curiously, as he grabbed a lighter from the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and lit the small candle on the counter. It reminded me of one of the hands-on farming courses at The Facility, with the teacher blabbering excitedly about something very few of us would ever need to know, while the students stood around in a semi-circle and watched with looks of terror as she helped a cow give birth.

From in front of the shower, Al raised his hand toward a hole in the ceiling, which I had somehow overlooked. Lakin and I craned our necks, our lines of vision following the faint blue beam of light from Al’s hand out through the gap. A stream of water flowed down from the pond overhead, dancing happily through the hole and collecting into a puddle at the top of the shower. With his other hand pulling heat from the candle, the faint blue light became a pale purple.

Lakin watched in amazement, while I slumped over with the realization of how much effort it took just a take a freaking shower in this place. Surely, there must have been an easier alternative. One that involved not cleaning yourself with something that had who-knows-what swimming in it just moments before.

“Lakin? Do you want to try?” Al asked, hand still raised to the hovering puddle.

Lakin’s eyes went wide as he shook his head. I sighed and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You’re going to have to learn to use your powers, somehow,” I said softly. “It’s just like using them in the Room, except, you know… not.”

Lakin nodded nervously, raising a hand to mimic Al’s. His face twisted and contorted, until a stream of blue light finally emerged from his palm. A grin beamed across his face as the light mingled with Al’s, and intertwined itself within the puddle. Al smiled with approval, but as soon as he ceased the light from his own hand, the entire puddle came crashing down with a splash. I uttered a squeak of surprise, suddenly drenched from head to toe. At least the water was warm.

“What the—” Lily’s feet slapped through the water that had leaked out into the hallway.

Lakin’s shoulders dropped with disappointment as he looked up at Al.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said reassuringly, “the floor needed to be mopped, anyway. But maybe you ought to just take baths, for a while.”

It only took moments for Lily and Al to clean up. They sent the water back through the hole in the ceiling, leaving all the surfaces dry and shining. Even the piles of clothes, which had been dripping down the counter, were dry as bone.

“Angie?” Al asked, relighting the candle.

I nodded excitedly, though feeling a bit guilty, as if I would be showing off in front of Lakin. I took a deep breath before stretching my hand toward the ceiling. It felt as if a wave of static were running through my body. I may have always had problems with ice, but water was my thing. It was spectacular to use my power without being hooked up to gadgets and doohickeys. I was finally free to be what I was born to be. Even if that meant I was born to clean myself with pond-water for the rest of my life.

I felt something like a tug in the pit of my stomach as the blue light reached the water above. It flowed down effortlessly through the opening, in the same way it had done for Al, and gathered in a pool below the ceiling. It was easy and calming, but in reaching my free hand toward the candle, I made the mistake of glancing at Lakin. As soon as our gazes met, a stab emanated from just behind my eyes, twenty times more painful than anything I had felt at The Facility. I screamed out, falling to the floor with a thud.

“Angie!” Lakin called, dropping to his knees next to me.

Pressure built in my head, throbbing as it tried to find an exit from my skull. I writhed on the floor, clawing at my face, trying to get the pain out in any way I could. Through sporadic, blurred vision, I saw Al bring Lily over to me. Her hands felt cool against my sweaty forehead, and the pain subsided to a dull ache with her touch. Worry seeped through her eyes as she stared down at me.

“Are you okay?” Lakin gasped, strangling my hand. I nodded weakly in response.

“Why does that keep happening? It didn’t start until I met Al,” I choked through a dry throat.

“I think the Oracle can sense that you are with your own kind,” she said. “It’s trying to un-silence itself.”

“Well, what’s taking it so long?” I muttered, pushing myself up to my arms. Lily only shook her head. She didn’t have an answer.

“Lily…” Al muttered, voice thick with distracted wonder.

She moved slowly to her feet, eyes fixed in the same place as Al’s, just above the shower. I glanced between their faces, before realizing what was holding their attention so strongly. Lakin helped me to stand, but my mouth stayed agape as I stared at the water that remained in a calm pool below the ceiling.

“Is that even possible?” I whispered.

I wasn’t trying to control the water that hovered above us; it simply remained where I had left it, still and clear as glass.

“Apparently,” Al said, reaching a finger out to poke at the curious sight.

As soon as his finger made contact with the water, a second crash rang throughout the crowded bathroom. Droplets of water plastered Lily’s hair to her face, as she glared furiously at Al.

“Whoops.”