Crimson (2 page)

Light. Curled up, I’m back in the bed of the first room. Still naked, the glass dust cleaned off me. Not sure I want to know how this occurred. No, not completely naked – around my wrists are copper coloured bracelets, an inch or so wide. No, not copper coloured, they actually are copper. The light plays off the metal, the surface visibly perfect. And they won’t come off. I can’t see any join, but they’re too small to slide over my hands. The cold feeling of the copper against my wrists brings back the events last experienced. Panic sets in. What’s their purpose?

Levia’s voice from the corner of the room answers my unasked question, “Another device we acquired. The bracelets act a valve for the flow of energy. When placed on someone who is talented they prevent them from using their ability but ensure that the link isn’t completely broken between the talent and the veil. That’s important, obviously, we can’t just cut the link but we need to keep your mind under control to prevent further mishaps, don’t we?

“Now, yesterday was just the introduction, today we should get to see what makes you tick.” I see the wicked smile on her face as she marches out of the room. Guards pass her as she leaves; they drag me back to the other room. I’m too afraid now to resist.

The light is brighter this time and yet somehow the room seems so much darker. The cast shadows dance wickedly around the room. Screams quickly fill the room. If only time could flow a little faster. I don’t remember it ending.

Again and again I wake up to this. Sometimes I don’t even realise I’ve woken up before the session ends. Who can tell the difference between one nightmare and another? This was the better life you wanted your daughter to live?

Worse, they are becoming more frustrated. Things aren’t going to plan. I’m not working as expected. The door opens again. By now, the guards have given up all pretence of avoiding harm to me. The fist to my face establishes their frustration and drops me to my knees. Looking down in the daze I notice that the room isn’t completely white. Confusion reigns. Somebody is yelling. Vivid drops of crimson rebel against the white concrete floor. My rebellion. I fall face first.

Again I find myself crucified on their hospital rack. My lips taste metallic; blood still flows down my face. The room feels colder, distinctly more sinister, if that were even possible. The guards at the door are stiffer, holding their guns tighter. The tension in the room is distinct. Where’s Levia?

“Shall we find out what you are today?” Eli’s voice has a new edge to it, cold and harsh.

Today there’s no flourish with the device, no false politeness in his voice. I meet his stare. Today the device starts between my thighs. It was almost like I had grown used to the pain of previous sessions. Not today. I don’t know where I find the breath to scream. The device seems to respond to Eli’s sadistic nature even more so today. It pushes painfully against my skin as he drags it up my pelvis.  By the time it reaches my stomach I’ve lost control, thrashing wildly. Blood dripping down my throat adds the fear of drowning. Panic sets in as he pulls the device off just before my chest. He’d always avoided my chest thus far.

Eli leans over me. “I want you to scream for me.”

His face twists into pure malevolence and shoves the wand between my breasts. My ribs implode inwards, piercing my lungs in a thousand places. My body arches as my spine fuses into a twisted bridge of bone. Fiery heat spreads across my chest. One final beat of my heart thumps in my ears before it explodes. Time stops.

Despite the glow of the light above me, the room is inexplicitly dark. And yet, the darkness comes with its own comforting warmth. The room remains frozen, the people surrounding me motionless.

Out of darkness a shadowy figure steps towards me. The figure, feminine and graceful, is an empty void of black in the now inadequate darkness of the room. Featureless but for the deep red glow of her eyes, her exact shape is hidden in a soft smoky fog, as black as the figure herself.

A quiet and gentle voice, a familiar tone softly says, “You don’t have to go through this anymore. We can leave. These people can’t keep you here.”

Her hand reaches out and strokes my cheek. I can’t feel it at first. As she runs her hand carefully down my arm I almost feel her become more corporal. The feeling is there for just a fleeting moment before it’s gone again. The leather straps holding me down fall apart. She beckons me upright and laughs gently. Her hands touch the bracelets on my wrists.

“These are just toys to please fools like these. They only suggest control while your mind does the actually work filling in the blanks. They can’t truly control you and they definitely can’t really stop you using your talents. You’ll understand, one day. I promise.”

Her hand touches the side of my head and I start to see black energy leak as lines of weakness form across the bracelets. They split from my wrists, yet defy gravity as they remain hovering in place. All the raw energy in the room floods back into me, shocking in its suddenness.

She says gently, “This lesson can’t last forever though. Fate doesn’t like it when you try to mess with time too much. Let me teach a little of what it means to be you as we get you out of here. The rest you’ll have to learn for yourself. I’m sure you’ll be fine.

“You are not like the other talented, you were never meant to be locked into a single talent; you’re a totally blank canvas. During the first war there was more of our type, a lot more, but, well, the veil war happened. The actual veil war, not the sadistic orgy of violence these immoral bastards started after.

“Those born with a set talent use energy differently, when they drag it through the veil, it converts to a refined form, something a little more suited to this side of the veil. They don’t even realise they’re doing it. The way that it is refined seems to have a lot to do with what talent comes naturally to a born talented. In direct and fair competition, they’ll be better than you ten out of ten times given the same level of experience and energy. But you, you were born free from those restraints. You can pierce through the veil and access the raw material. You’re free to manipulate it however your mind is capable.

“Let me give you a taste,” she says, her eyes glowing redder.

“First, telepathy and with it mind control.” A stream of black energy follows her hand as she pulls it away from my head. She walks over and joins the stream with the head of one of the frozen door guards with a gentle caress.

“You form an image in your mind of the actions you want the person to commit to, then push the suggestion across a connection with the other person. Minds are amazingly capable of filling in the little details if you give them just the slightest nudge.”

Her head tilts and an image forms in my head – each door guard lift their gun up and take aim at the other.

“Second, telekinesis or psychokinesis, whichever you fancy.” Her hand passes over my head again and two black tendrils snake out. She manipulates the energy deftly, wrapping it around the handles of the knives the guards carry on their belts.

“Telekinesis requires a certain physical shift in thinking that can only be felt rather than thought. This shift requires a lot more energy input than telepathy to achieve a useful result, but still, you’ll work it out.”

And I do feel it as each knife is lifted from their sheaths. I guess I could only describe it as if the energy connections feel like they’re another limb.

“Yes, it’s really is like that, like another limb,” she says.

Each highly polished knife is more than a foot in length, shit, almost long enough to be a sword. Each reminds me of a beak, a single straight edge while the spine curves down to the point at the tip. The knives float towards the last guard, hovering point first over each depression formed by the clavicles at his neck. 

“Third lesson and most important, Constructs. Constructs are a unique talent, certainly among the born talented. When most talented use their ability, how it happens, the details, are all automatic. Their mind subconsciously works out the necessary details but they really have little control over it. Constructs, on the other hand, are energy based devices designed, programmed is the right term, by the user to achieve a certain task.  Constructs, on the other hand, are energy based devices designed, programmed is the right term, by the creator to achieve a certain task. You take a bunch of raw energy, form it into an appropriate shape then plan out how you want it to act. You can make it take on any ability you know, assuming you pump enough energy into it to keep it going. They are energy machines. You’re truly limited only by how much you can keep in your imagination. Don’t forget that. The connections you’re forming now with these people are, in their own way, the most basic of constructs. The device Eli used on you is a construct as well. It’s been associated with a physical object to allow anybody to use it, but it’s still a construct. Now that you have access to it you can manipulate it freely. Let’s tweak it a little.”

Her eyes glow red again. The device floats across the room, the patterned end pushing into the throat of Eli.

“Time’s almost up. Last lesson, clairvoyance.”

An image flashes into my head. I can see the old man sitting across from me. The thought comes and goes quickly, like a memory, but it’s not one I’ve ever had.

“He’s avoided talking to you long enough.”

“And that’s all I can teach you for now. You’ll find the rest out. Trust. You have some trying times ahead, but also some beautiful ones as well. You have some hard decisions to make, but I know you do fine.”

She leans over and kisses me on the forehead. Then she’s gone. Time comes rushing back and light defeats dark once again. Once white turns red.

Eli’s head simply explodes. Red mist fills the room; his body collapsing as life slowly pours from his neck and pools around his fallen body. The knives slide through the neck of the first guard then shear sideways through his neck. Blood fountains from his carotid arteries. Twin guards standing in mirror image unload their weapons on full automatic. Two walls red in reflected repercussion.

Two copper bracelets clatter on the floor. It’s over in a moment. Bloody hell.

The floor is slick with blood as I step through the destruction. The impact of what just occurred slows my footsteps, guards slumped at the door are stepped over nervously. Watchfully I open the door to stumble into the dark hallway. An open hall cupboard further down is stacked with old hospital gowns. I take one to cover myself with. Heavy footsteps filter down from a staircase at the end of the hallway. The door nearest provides a quick hiding place. Breathe. Boots pound pass the door.

“Find her!” Levia’s voice shouts down the hall.

Seems to me like a pretty good time to not be here anymore. I make a dash for the staircase. Levia and those with her react instantly. A sign on the wall tells me that I’m below ground. The volume of boots hitting vinyl increases but I’m far too scared to turn around and look back at my pursuers.

“Don’t shoot her!” Levia yells down the hallway.

I duck my head and launch myself into the concrete stairwell. Boots hit concrete just as I turn the first corner of the stairs. I don’t make it one flight up. An arm grabs me and I go no further.

“I’ve got her,” An unfamiliar guard says.

I struggle in his grip. Think. Remember what happened in the room before. How do I make this shit work? More footsteps reverberate up the stairwell.

“Hold her!” Levia shouts up the staircase.

This is not working; time for Plan B. What’s Plan B? I don’t know either. I twist in the guard’s grip trying to break free. It’s too tight, this isn’t working either.

There. I reach out. The knife from his belt slips out easily. He’s quick to drop me after I start swinging wildly. Don’t know if I hit him or not but now’s not the time to find out. Too close. Up two flights of stairs; ground floor, shoulder first through the stairwell doors. The lobby is a blur. Shoulder first through the swinging glass doors. That was definitely a mistake. The doors are much heavier than expected. I stumble outside, the afternoon sun blinding.

“Here, quickly, into the car!” yells a man.

He stands next to a dark sedan sitting a few strides from the front door; dark tinted windows with engine running. It’s not like I could change directions anyway.  A back door is already open. The stranger grabs me as I get near the vehicle and pushes me rather ungracefully into the waiting car. Doors slam shut, tyres squeal. What the fuck just happened? Who are these people? I panic.