New Sight (6 page)

“Someone’s coming,” Brady said.

Lys turned her head. She couldn’t see through the thick trees. Anything could be hiding in the shadows.

“Let’s get back inside,” Kamau said. This time he pulled Lys by the hand.

She started to follow him, but stopped when Brady didn’t move. Her heart beat insistently in her chest—something felt wrong.

“Brady,” she said, “let’s go back.”

Brady sank to his knees, placing the palms of his hands on the ground. “I can feel everything.”

Lys glanced at Kamau, who watched Brady with a frown.

“What do you mean?” Lys asked.

“I can feel it all,” he said, rubbing his hands along the dirt path. He turned to look at Lys. “It’s wicked!” The excitement in his voice caught Lys off guard. Instead of sounding haggard, his voice grew strong and deeper than Lys remembered. And he sounded like he’d just learned that he didn’t have to go back to school for a month.

“You’ve got to try this!” Brady said.

Kamau still had a hold of her hand. He tugged her back as he flipped on the flashlight and shined it at Brady.

Brady knelt on the ground, with both hands still pressed against the dirt. His whole body shook, but Lys hardly noticed. She only cared about his eyes. They were black. Not just the pupils or even the irises. His entire eyeball looked as if it was covered in black oil. The surface swirled, calling to Lys.

Those eyes! That’s what she really wanted. The Need broke free of its prison, engulfing reason like an ocean wave. Whatever barrier the tonic had erected washed away in an instant. Lys felt herself lunge forward. If she had those eyes, she would be satisfied.

“No!” Kamau wrapped his arms around her, pinning her hands to her sides.

Lys struggled. She didn’t care about Kamau even though his face lay only inches away. She wanted Brady’s eyes, and she wanted them now.

“Lys!” Kamau said. “Stop it! Control it.”

The command went unheeded. Lys kicked and wriggled, trying to get free. “Let me go!” she yelled.

“No.” He held her fast. “Get a hold of yourself.” The beam from the flashlight waved around, hitting trees, the ground, and finally Brady again.

The Need pulsed inside of her, forcing her to fight Kamau’s vice grip, but she couldn’t break free. All Lys wanted was Brady’s eyes. If she could get them, the Need would go away. It would be satisfied. At least she thought it would be satisfied.

Kamau grunted. “Brady, you need to listen to me. You need to control it. You need to harness the energy and control it. Move it where you want it. Don’t let it consume you.” There was a highly compelling quality to his instructions.

Brady stood, tilted his head to the side and then walked to the nearest tree. He placed his hand on it. The trunk, thicker than Lys’s whole body, exploded into splinters. Kamau moved back as the tree wobbled and fell away from them.

A shock wave ran through Lys. It felt like a line of people had dragged their feet across the carpet and then touched a screw. The electricity went through Kamau and into her. The wall went back up around the Need. She stopped struggling.

Before the tree hit the ground, Brady picked up a rock the size of a softball. He crushed it in his hand like it was a potato chip, crumbs pouring out from between his fingers.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lys asked. Was it the drug or something worse?

“Do not let him touch you,” Kamau said, releasing her.

Kamau tried talking to Brady again. “You can control it,” he urged. “It does not have to control you.”

Seeing Brady, Lys knew he couldn’t be in control. Of course, in a second she might not be either.

Lys saw a dark shadow moving toward them. “Someone’s coming,” she said.

“Don’t get too close to him!” Mark’s voice shouted through the trees. Lys could see his outline running at them, darting between trees and bushes.

Brady turned at the sound of the voice. “You don’t understand,” he said. “This is incredible. I had no idea how much . . .” Then he doubled over, going back to his knees. The ground crumpled in on itself where he landed. He tried to stand, but stumbled and fell again. This time the dirt exploded around him. Lys felt rock shards hit her face as she turned away.

“Brady!” Mark commanded. “You have to control it! Do
not
go into it.” He ran past Lys and Kamau, heading straight for Brady.

Lys didn’t understand. Control it? Go into it? Kamau had just said the same thing. Were they talking about the drug? What did Kamau know about it? What wasn’t he telling her?

The ground around them started to shake, and small cracks appeared at their feet. Brady, still on his hands and knees, let out a primal scream—Lys had never heard anything like it. The sound lanced through her body like glass, shattering her link to reality.

Just before Mark got to Brady, someone in black stepped in front of him. Lys heard a twang, and Mark fell to the ground. More figures dressed in black came at them through the trees.

People started to yell, and Lys felt Kamau take her arm and attempt to pull her away. Lys tried to move, but couldn’t. The world fractured in front of her eyes.

Suddenly she could see everything. She could see from her own eyes, she could see herself from Kamau’s eyes. She could see all of them from above, she could see more figures in black and she could see the crumpled doorway behind them. She was flying, she was running, she was standing and she was dying.

Chapter 7

Fuzzy gray
surrounded Lys. She quickly decided she liked the black better. At least with the black she knew what to expect. The gray gave her hope that the light might come. It hurt to hope. What would she hope for? Half-remembered scenes replayed in her mind.

“Get a net on him. This kid is going to kill us all. Cut that girl off before she goes crazy, too. Where is Mason? We’ll have to take them back to the city . . .”

She thought she remembered being chased through the forest by people in black, but the memory wouldn’t solidify. Other voices asked her if she was using, but Lys couldn’t see the faces that went with them. Instead she saw outlines and shadows hidden in the fuzzy gray.

She tried to get the images in her mind in some sort of order; the hospital, dreaming, the ghost, running, falling—Brady!

That thought jolted her awake. Her eye opened. She expected to see stars, with trees overhead and dirt beneath her. Instead a sterile, white ceiling lit by a fluorescent light greeted her.

Lys turned her head. White surrounded her—white walls, white ceiling, and white floor. She propped herself up on her elbows, even the sheets, blankets and box frame under the bed were white.

Her head swam with the effort of lifting it, so Lys lay back down. Was she in some new part of the hospital? The sequence of events from the night before still lacked clarity. Another dream? Lys hoped so, but she didn’t think so.

The door to the room had bars on it. A cell? How did she get in an all-white prison cell? She glanced around slowly, taking in the bed, a toilet, a sink, and about three feet square of free space right in front of the door. The bed touched three of the four walls. Why was she in prison? Surely Mr. Mason wouldn’t toss her in here for going after Brady. Especially since he hadn’t even given her a chance to explain.

Her new clothes consisted of a shirt and a pair of pants—both white and resembling scrubs more than anything else. Thin, white slippers covered her feet.

The slap of a foot on the floor drew Lys’s attention. She wasn’t alone. Before she could talk herself out of it, Lys sat up and swung her legs off the bed. Her head continued to pound, and her stomach objected, but she didn’t throw up or pass out. So far so good.

“Hello?” a deep voice asked.

“Kamau?” Lys said, rising to her feet. Having such a small cell proved to be handy. She had to reach out to steady herself as she walked to the door.

Outside her cell lay a white hallway. The walls curved, more like a tube than a hall, with a flat spot running down the floor and the ceiling. She could see three other cell doors.

Kamau stood at the door across from Lys. His polite mask was gone, replaced by a scowl.

“Where are we?” Lys asked, looking around. It was like they’d been abducted and placed in some alien space ship. Or a bad reality television show.

“I’m not sure,” Kamau said, a stony look on his face. “But I do not think we are in the hospital.”

Neither did Lys. Mr. Mason didn’t seem the type to let them wake up wondering. He’d have someone there to tell them what was going on. Wouldn’t he?

“Is anyone else here?” Lys asked, craning her head to try to look into the other cells.

“No,” Kamau said. “But someone has been screaming from far away.”

Brady. He had plenty to scream about: being addicted to a drug, running from ghosts, or suffering from the Need.

Lys’s mind halted on that subject. The Need. It was gone. She explored it, not wanting to wake the Need, but wanting to see if it was still around. Lys poked at it like she would a canker sore. It stirred, but only a little. Like it had been buried under a mound of heavy blankets. Buried? The tonic sort of repressed the Need; it never felt like this.

Lys risked meeting Kamau’s eyes and found them glaring at her.

“What?” she asked. What was his problem?

“Why were you out of your bed?”

“Uh.” Seriously? Weren’t there more important things to discuss? Like where they were.

“What were you doing in the basement?”

Lys shook her head. “I, uh, the toilet in my room clogged, so I buzzed the counselor. No one answered, and the door was open, so I went looking for someone to help.” She didn’t think he’d believe the truth! Visions and dreams? Now that she really thought about it, the whole fiasco was probably a hallucination brought on by Pop. Or the tonic.

“How did you get into the basement?”

“I took the elevator down, trying to find someone, and it took me to the basement. The elevator wouldn’t go back up, so I stepped out. Then it closed and wouldn’t open again.”

“Why were you wandering the halls?” His eyes bore in to hers.

“Why were
you
wandering the halls?” she asked, returning the glare. “Down there in the dark? And why did you have a flashlight with you? You just usually carry one around in your pocket?”

She hadn’t meant it to come out so forcefully. Too late now.

“I told you, I was searching for Brady,” Kamau said.

“Why didn’t you just tell the counselor that he was missing?”

Kamau rubbed the bridge of his nose with a hand. “There was no counselor when I called.”

Lys opened her mouth to reply, then stopped.

“What is it?” he asked.

“There was no counselor when I called either,” she said.

Kamau’s scowl turned into a thoughtful frown. “Are you sure?”

Hadn’t she just gone over this? “I went to the desk and didn’t find anyone. Why do you think I got on the elevator?”

The two of them regarded one another. Lys broke the silence. “Why was Brady out of his room?” Finally the most important question hit her, floating up from the dredges of her mind. “What happened with him, anyway?”

“I do not know,” Kamau said. It looked like he wanted to say more.

“What was with the door? How did he do that?” Lys asked, leaning forward and pressing her face between the bars.

“The door?” Kamau asked, shifting his eyes to a spot above her head.

“You saw it,” she said. “He hit it and the whole thing crumpled like a piece of paper. How did he do that?”

“It was an old door.”

That was his explanation? “Oh, come on,” Lys said, “You saw it, too.”

“I only saw him open the door.”

“You’re totally lying.” Again, not what she meant to say out loud.

His scowl deepened. “I do not know what you saw, but I saw Brady push the door.”

Lys opened her mouth to rebuttal, but stopped. Her mind jumped again. Maybe she could get him with this one. “What did you see coming down the hall after us?”

“I do not know what you mean.” Kamau looked away.

“The glowing ball of, whatever? What did it look like to you?” He didn’t answer. Lys went on. “I know you saw it.”

Kamau hesitated before answering. “The figure of my grandfather in his ceremonial robes.”

So they all saw different things. Lys saw a wolf head, Kamau saw his grandfather and Brady saw a woman in a flowing dress. Or at least she thought that’s what he saw. “Maybe it was all a hallucination,” she said aloud. Only she hadn’t seen anything when Kenny freaked out and the others had.

“Perhaps.” He frowned.

“Do you think Brady is okay?” Lys asked. “He seemed pretty messed up.”

“You should have listened to me and stayed away from him.” The words sounded more like advice than a censure.

“But he was in trouble!” Lys said, waving a hand through the bars. “We couldn’t leave him there.”

“Why are you so concerned about him?” Kamau asked, his voice finally breaking back into the realm of friendly.

“I dunno.” She shrugged, looking down. “I just felt like he needed our help. Well, my help. I couldn’t leave him there, not when he looked so scared.” She risked a glance back up. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“You did not give me much of a choice.” His lips tugged into a tiny grin.

She had been a bit forceful. “Yeah, sorry about that. I hope I don’t get you in trouble.”

Kamau looked around. “I think we might be in more trouble than we know about.”

“Why do you say—“

A squeak followed by a slam interrupted them. Two men in black suits came from the end of the hall. Both men stood taller than Kamau and filled out their suits like body builders. One of them had brown hair and the other had blond. The blond-haired man spoke first.

“Oh, good. I see you’re finally awake.” The heavy tone belayed the light-hearted words. “It’s about time.” His eyes, which Lys quickly berated herself for looking at, even if the Need was buried right now, held nothing but contempt for her. And when he turned to Kamau, a deep scowl surfaced.

“Mr. Doyle will be happy to see that you’re both okay,” the man with the brown hair said.

The man with blond hair stepped forward, stopping in front of Lys. “Time for you to see the boss.”

The man was huge. He towered over Lys, gazing down at her with both curiosity and repulsion. Mostly repulsion. Lys didn’t understand.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Where is Mr. Mason?”

The two men exchanged a knowing glance before the dark-haired one spoke. “We’ll let Mr. Doyle explain that to you.”

Blondie placed a hand on the bars in front of her. There was no lock, but when the man touched the bars, she heard a click and the door swung open.

She didn’t move. She didn’t like the vibe blondie gave her. In fact, it took everything she had not to take a step back. The guy oozed disdain from his haughty look down to his immaculate suit. Lys didn’t know who he was, why she was sitting in a jail cell, or what they were going to do with her. She changed her mind and took the step back.

“Come on,” the other man said, gesturing for Kamau to come out into the hall. “You, too,” he said when he saw Lys backing away.

Kamau followed the instructions. Lys hesitated. Really? Who were these guys? She caught Kamau’s eye, and he jerked his head back, signaling for her to join him.

Being with Kamau would be better than ending up alone with the man standing outside her cell. Mustering her courage, Lys squeezed past the man, who didn’t even bother to try to get out of her way, and went to stand next to Kamau. Lys didn’t notice how bad she was trembling until she bumped up against Kamau’s steady arm.

“Let’s go,” the man with the dark hair said, leading the way back toward the door at the end of the hallway.

Lys didn’t want to move. Her heart pounded in her chest, and something inside of her told her that these guys were more likely to hurt her than help her. She didn’t know why she felt that way, and that scared her more than anything.

She almost jumped off the floor when Kamau’s fingers brushed her wrist. He gently wrapped his hand around hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“We should stay together,” Kamau said in a whisper.

Lys nodded and allowed him to tug her forward. They followed the dark-haired man down the hall with blondie bringing up the rear.

“May I ask where we are?” Kamau asked as they went through the door.

“Mr. Doyle will explain,” the man in front said, biting off the last word. Silence descended and Lys glanced around the hallway.

This part of the building, or whatever they were in, looked more normal than the rooms they had just come from. The walls were still white, but they made a square instead of a tube. Framed paintings hung at regular intervals. Brass sconces threw patches of light onto the plain, white ceiling.

They went down the hall and turned left at a “T” intersection, past a few closed, wooden doors. At the second one on the right, the man stopped and knocked.

Lys couldn’t help her trembling. It felt like she might shake apart from the inside. Who or what was behind the door? Not Mr. Mason. Or aliens—she hoped. The police? Some government official? But why?

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The door swung inward, and when the man with the dark hair moved out of the way, Lys saw a large, wooden desk with a man sitting behind it.

“Please, come in,” the man said in an Irish accent. He gestured for them to enter as the dark-haired man stepped aside. Kamau led Lys inside, still holding onto her hand.

The man stood, spreading his arms out. Two chairs stood before them. “Sit down.”

Lys didn’t move. As a physical specimen he didn’t compare to the other two, but he had a hard look around his eyes that told Lys that he shouldn’t be trifled with. His clear, blue eyes studied her for a moment. Lys held his gaze, and got the sudden urge to comb his curly, red hair.

“You can stand if you like, but with what you’ve been through, you should probably sit.” He smiled, still looking at Lys.

Lys glanced at Kamau out of the side of her eye. He shrugged and they both moved to sit down. When he let go of her hand, Lys felt as if she’d just lost her lifeline. However, she rallied, and sat smoothly onto the chair, keeping her eye on the man across from her.

He nodded and sat. “My name is Rolan Doyle. You’ve met my associates, Erik and Jed.” He waved the other two men out.

Kamau spoke. “My name is Kamau Matola. May I ask why we have been brought here?”

Mr. Doyle leaned forward, placing his arms on the desk. “I will tell you after your friend introduces herself.”

Lys swallowed. “My name is Lysandra Blake.” She continued to look into his eyes. “Who are you?”

“I am here to help you.”

Those were almost the same words Mr. Mason had said to her in the psych ward.

“Help us with what?” Kamau asked.

Mr. Doyle hesitated before he spoke, but he didn’t answer Kamau’s question. “What did Mr. Mason tell you?”

“How do you know Mr. Mason?” Lys asked.

He raised his eyebrows. “Jeremiah Mason and I have known one another for a long time.”

“What is your association with Mr. Mason?” Kamau asked, pressing the matter.

“I clean up Mr. Mason’s messes. Try to salvage the lives he destroys.”

For a moment Lys wondered if Mr. Doyle and Mr. Mason were rivals. Both trying to run treatment facilities?

“Messes?” Lys asked, the words slipping out. “What are you talking about?”

“Well,” Mr. Doyle sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Which story did he feed you?” He looked at Kamau. “That you were suffering from a rare condition brought on by radiation from electronics use?” His attention turned toward Lys. “Or did he tell you that you were addicted to a drug that you’ve never heard of? Both are fatal, according to Mr. Mason.”