Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (40 page)

“Watching him beat the crud out of you was the worst for me,” Trent says with a sigh. “I’m just glad we couldn’t see your face.”

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a realization surface. “Why don’t I have a million bruises and internal bleeding right now?”

“You can thank Mae for that,” Trey informs me. “She’s the lady who hooked you up before you traveled last night. She’s a powerful healer. Under the right circumstances, if she’s quick enough to act on an injury, she can reverse it. Aiden called her right after he revived you. She was able to remove and mend most of the injuries, with the exception of the burn.”

The burn on my forearm is exactly the length of my bracelet, which I’m now wearing on the opposite wrist.

“I suspect,” Trey continues, “the severity of that burn was so intense that Mae was not able to mend it. You’ll have a scar there forever, but your protective charm will cover it.”

George has been sitting quietly in the corner with his arms crossed the entire time. He’s hardly looked at me since he walked into the room. Finally his voice splinters the air around me. “For me”—he pauses and swallows—“the hardest part was once you realized the bracelet created an electrical force when it touched Zhuang. I knew you were going to throw yourself into the water to ensure he was electrocuted. I thought you were going to die too.” There’s a rough edge to his tone, like sandpaper.

“But she didn’t,” Trey says at once.

I want to ask about the bracelet, to find out why it reacted the way it did, but Trey speaks first. “Joseph, will you fill us in on how you obtained your injuries?” he asks.

“Oh,” he laughs and points at his ribs. “This? It’s nothing. You see, I accidentally traveled to Madrid during that running of the bull event. Imagine my surprise when this animal rammed his horn up my—”

“He’s lying,” Samara interrupts him.

“No, really?” I say.

“All right, well, there isn’t much to tell. I was in the room where George had been stationed, trying to stay close to Stark. Zhuang appeared before I could travel. His attack was pretty swift, but I did my best to try and fight him. We dueled for ages. I was just about to deliver the last devastating blow to finish him when I noticed my shoestring was untied.”

I roll my eyes and force away the urge to laugh. “All that sounds very entertaining, but will you get on with what really happened.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Joseph says, offended. “Zhuang stabbed me. I’d never experienced such pain. As soon as it happened I felt my energy completely diminish.” Shame coats Joseph’s eyes and I want to stop him, tell him it’s a useless emotion. “With my last bit of reserves I returned to the Institute. I knew immediately I’d failed you.”

“Joseph—” I manage in a half whisper.

“I already know what you’re gonna say,” he cuts me off. “You don’t have to. I’m just recountin’ the events. That’s what happened and I don’t like it, but I can’t change the past.”

At this point we should just be glad we have a future.

“I’ve never met anyone as demonic as Zhuang.” Joseph shivers, staring at the table. “He has the eeriest eyes. They’ll haunt me for the rest of my life, I’m certain of that.”

“I hope they don’t,” Trey says matter-of-factly. He clears his throat as if he’s going to say something else, but doesn’t get a chance.

“It’s like he stared into my soul when he plunged the sword into me. I’m afraid of what he saw,” Joseph says, locked on the table.

“Is that why you fled?” Ren says from the back of the room. As usual, he’s eyeing his fingernails like the present conversation is boring him to death. I wish it would.

“I was injured,” Joseph retorts, venom in his voice. “I thought I was dyin’.”

“Roya almost died numerous times, but she didn’t desert the mission,” Ren says coolly, although the accusation is full of fire.

“Joseph did what he thought was right at the time,” Trey says, slightly dissolving the tension building between Ren and Joseph. “He wouldn’t have been any good to Roya if he was bleeding to death.”

“And he didn’t do her any favors by abandoning her, taking power she could have used to fight Zhuang,” Ren counters dully.

“I thought I was helping her!” Joseph shouts. “If I was still alive then he couldn’t have her consciousness.”

Ren laughs bitterly. “He didn’t want you. You were just in the bloody way. As long as you’re close to Roya, she’s powerful. Zhuang needed you to get away from her. I’m certain he would have preferred to kill you, but you retreated before he had the chance. Either way, he knew he had done what he needed to.”

“That’s enough,” I say sharply. “What’s done is done. Zhuang very well could be dead and that’s because of the efforts of everyone on this team. We all did our part. I did not fight alone.”

Trey nods at me, a subtle look of approval in his eyes. He stands, faces Ren, and says, “I’m certain Ren is only trying to provide helpful feedback.”

Yeah, right.

“Thank you both for your efforts training this team,” Trey continues, directing his words to both Shuman and Ren. “Is there anything else either of you’d like to add?”

Ren shrugs indifferently and continues staring at his nails. “You all weren’t as completely useless as I thought you’d be. And Roya, you survived, which completely astonished me.”

Shuman narrows her eyes at Ren and then leans forward and bows her head. “I salute the effort you put into battle.” Then she lifts her head and stares at me with her dark amethyst eyes. When she says nothing else I smile weakly.

“I think that just about wraps things up,” Trey says, redirecting our attention. “Two more things before you go and rest. We’ll be having a small and intimate celebration, albeit a bit premature in my opinion. Still, I know you’ve all worked hard and even if Zhuang isn’t dead, he’s seriously weakened, which would make Flynn proud. The party will be on Friday evening.”

Trey turns and focuses his turquoise eyes on me. There’s a pain in them, so deep, like something dark hidden at the bottom of clear water. I had never noticed it before, not quite like this. “Lastly, Roya,” he says, his tone sullen. “It’s evident that when we elected you challenger, we made the right decision. Putting you in this dangerous role was not what Flynn wanted. I, myself, questioned the news reporters’ forecast. However, I know now it had to be you.”

He stops, deliberating, staring off in the distance. Then his focus connects on me again. “If it’s in fact true, what Zhuang said about needing your consciousness, then you’re more powerful than I previously imagined.” He half smiles at this. A sharp tenderness edges his eyes. His new role as Head of the Institute must be getting to him. This guy looks like he hasn’t slept in ages.

A cough escapes his mouth and he says, “Please guard this power, as it’s both a gift and a burden.” He nods his head once, then turns and leaves.

I’m next to follow. More than anything I need to be alone to process everything I’ve just heard. Something’s starting to well up inside me. I fear it might breach the surface soon. Joseph calls out, and then when he doesn’t again, I assume he knows what I need. I walk with urgency until I’m safely behind my door. Alone with my emotions.

Chapter Fifty

T
hat evening I hear the familiar rap on my door. Patrick is idling, waiting on the other side. He smiles broadly from underneath his ball cap. “Well, hey there, sweetheart. I knew I hadn’t seen the last of you yet.”

“I’m like a bad rash,” I say, taking the package and letter from his hands.

“Oh yes, terribly difficult to get rid of.” He smiles before trotting off.

I laugh when I open the container to find my dinner. Even though Joseph is probably bleeding and in pain, he’s still figured out a way to get me something to eat.

After I finish my salad, I open the letter. It’s from Bob and Steve.

Dear Roya,

We’ve been celebrating since we learned of your victory. There are no two prouder people than the ones who are writing this note. You’re incredible. Always have been.

If you need a break from the Institute, you’re always welcome to come here and live. We would love to have you. We’re sure we could keep you busy, although we think public schooling is out of the question.

Love,

Bob & Steve

It’s funny they think I was victorious. I wonder if that’s the news other Lucidites received. Since I don’t know if Zhuang’s dead or not, I decide not to worry about it.

The next day I ignore the numerous knocks at my door. I want no company. I need more time than I imagined to process. I was prepared to die, and now that I’m alive I don’t know where I want this life of mine to go. I know I should be celebrating and happy, but my future came at a price and I can’t let myself forget that. People died. People I knew.

I decide against attending Whitney’s memorial. These events are to help people grieve and I’m in the process of doing that on my own. I tell myself she’d understand. The truth is, managing the pain of her death has been tumultuous at times, taking me by surprise, causing pain in ways I’m not accustomed to feeling. No one ever told me how sorrow traumatizes the heart, making me think it will never beat exactly the same way again. No one ever told me how grief feels like a wet sock in my mouth. One I’m forced to breathe through, thinking that with each breath I’ll come up short and suffocate. I guess if I’m honest with myself, there wasn’t really anyone to pass along this knowledge anyway.

When I’m not suffocating in grief, I try to figure out what my life is supposed to look like at this point. When Patrick delivers food, I eat. When I’m tired, I fall into dream-filled sleeps. The current theme of my dreams involves my real mother. She gives me hugs I don’t want and offers reactionary advice. Still, I like looking at her face. It has small features, brown eyes, blonde hair, and an expression that is overly optimistic.

Since I know I’m on the brink of being considered a hermit, I open my door the next day. By midmorning Joseph is laid out on my bed. It feels good to have him close, the way my cats used to make me feel when they were nearby.

“Do you want to talk about him?” he asks, looking at me from the corners of his eyes.

I know exactly who he’s referring to. “No,” I say with more force than I intended.

“But he was your brother,” Joseph says.

“No.” I shake my head. “You’re my brother.”

“But you grew up with him.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. Thousands of sleepwalkers died on the Day of the Duel. Shiloh was one of them. My gaze slides away from Joseph and rests on the blue carpet. “Honestly, I never expected to see him again. I think that’s why it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.” And it wasn’t like Whitney’s death, where I had to see her blood oozing from the instrument that killed her. Her death felt real, but Shiloh’s didn’t for some reason.

“Or maybe you’re just in shock,” Joseph offers.

“Maybe.” I shrug. “More than anything I hurt for…” I stop, not knowing exactly how to label them anymore. “His family,” I finally say. “They will miss him very much.” My gaze slides back to Joseph. He’s actually smiling.

“Just like I would have missed you if Zhuang had succeeded,” he says in a low hush.

I return his smile with affection.

“So since our old lives are obviously gone, what do
we
do now?” Joseph asks, lightness in his tone.

“What do you mean
we
?” I look at him as I pick up my hairbrush.

“Well, Trey has offered for us both to stay here. You’d know that if you came out of your room,” he says. “There’s things we could work on here. Projects.”

I cut my eyes at him. “Honestly, that sounds great in a couple years. But I was actually thinking of living with Bob and Steve and having a normal life for once.”

“Normal lives are overrated,” Joseph says, adjusting himself on the bed. He’s obviously still in a great deal of pain from his injury, which was so severe Mae wasn’t able to mend it completely.

“How would you know?” I snap.

“I’ve heard.” He laughs. “It’s just that I’m staying and I really wanted you to stay too.”

“We can meet up at night,” I offer. “You’ll see me all the time.”

“No.” Joseph shakes his head. “It’s not the same.”

I take a long look at Joseph. “I can tell when you’re lying too, you know.”

A sly grin unfurls on his face. “Oh all right, I have something I wanna work on here and I need your help.”

“You need my energy,” I say.

“You could help too. You could be involved, but you’d have to come out of your room.” He rolls his eyes.

“Look,” I begin, “it’s incredible that we have each other, but are we supposed to be tied together forever? Because that’s not going to work for me. I need space.”

“Me too,” he agrees easily. “I’m not implying that we have to follow each other around. God knows I don’t want to live with you and your pseudo parents in the boondocks. I just need you here for a couple of months. Just let me work on this project. Lend me your energy. Can you give me that?”

I stare off at the carpet, weighing my options.

“You
can
,” Joseph continues, “read your Lord Byron, paint your toenails, listen to folk rock, or whatever you do when you’re not preparing to fight some crazy ancient philosopher guy. Please.”

“All right,” I give after a minute of deliberation. “You have until the end of the summer. Then I’m gone.”

He smiles. We shake on it.

Before Joseph leaves he reminds me about the celebration that night. He demands I wear something nice. When I inform him I don’t have anything, he promptly invades my closet and picks out the one dress Steve had bought me. It’s a short, sleeveless, black and white dress, with a swooping neckline. I think I’d rather go fight Zhuang again than wear it.

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Be wearing that, ’cause I don’t want you to embarrass me,” he says, heading for the door.