Emotionally Charged (11 page)
Jake caught me with a blow to my jaw that slid me back along the ground. I didn’t even feel it. I launched myself at the men again. I broke ribs, snapped knees, pulled arms from their sockets. I fought for my life and for Dean’s, if it was still there.
I knew despair like I never had, like I couldn’t begin to handle. A black, bottomless pool that threatened to drown drew me in like quicksand. Dean still didn’t move. He looked dead.
Darkness overwhelmed me, and the despair fed on everything I had inside, consuming any feelings of morality or mercy. And it remained ravenous.
I turned it on Jake, Jamie and Donnie and let it feed. I used the black energy to tear every power and every emotion from their bodies. They fell to the ground like human husks. Just pretty shells.
I stumbled a few steps towards Dean’s body, completely burnt out.
Then I fell too.
***
Everything was too bright. Light, noise, beeping, and why was everyone screaming?
I stirred, and when I opened my eyes I found myself in a hospital bed, strung up with tubes running from my wrist and wires stuck to my chest.
A petite dark-skinned nurse leant over me to press the call button.
She smiled at me as I blinked myself awake. My head pounded and I winced.
“There you are. Careful now, you’ve been out for a while. We’ll get a doctor in to look over you as soon as we can.”
Her smile hit me like a solid wall of energy, the strength of her happiness making me nauseous. Who was ever that cheery? All around me emotions seeped through the walls from people celebrating, people grieving, people fighting enemies in their own bodies to stay alive. Every emotion invaded me, crawled into me like tiny spiders digging under my skin. I rolled over to the side of the bed.
The nurse must have seen me turn green because she was ready with a pan to catch my vomit.
A doctor came in, accompanied by a man in a suit who showed me his detective badge. I leaned back in the bed and took deep breaths, trying to slow the spinning inside. The doctor started checking me and my attached machines and said I didn’t have to talk to the cop yet if I didn’t want to.
I shook my head only slightly but it hummed with pain. “What happened? Is Dean…?”
The detective took a seat next to my bed and pulled out a note pad. “We were hoping you could tell us what happened. No one else has been able to, and the scene we found, with one boy shot and you and three others unconscious, well, I’ve never seen anything like it. We’ve identified the shooter from the bank robbery, and the two other men carrying guns as his associates. Now we’re just trying to work out how you and the boy who got shot come into it.”
My mind raced over all the evidence of my involvement with Jake’s team. Photos, phone calls, texts, leaving home, my stuff at their place, the video from the bank. I had to tell the truth, as much as would be believed, that I didn’t realize who they were until it was too late. It was going to be a long story, and long investigation, and I couldn’t handle that now. I could barely think.
I looked the cop in the eye and told him we were just victims, and that I’d tell him everything he wanted to know when I was better. If I ever got better. The detective may not have been physically attracted to me, but the rush of power I felt let me smooth through all his defenses. He nodded in complete agreement and gave the side of my bed a sympathetic pat.
“Of course, but if you could help me understand what happened, I’d appreciate it. We’ve got enough evidence on the three men to tie them to a number of crimes in the area, but the confusing part is that they either seem to be trying for an insanity plea or are actually mentally disabled. Catatonic, all three of them.”
I could tell him what happened, now I realized what I’d done. I’d killed them. Or I might as well have. I ripped all their emotions right from their bodies, leaving them as vegetables.
I bent over the side of the bed again, my eyes watering and chest convulsing. The nurse held a pan out for me again but nothing came. My body rolled inside with pain and guilt and I wished I could vomit it all out, clear all these feelings from me.
I had taken lives.
Their powers I had somehow absorbed, stolen. That’s why everything was amplified. I deserved this torment, the screaming of every emotion around me drilling into my skull. It could send me insane, and I almost hoped it did. I only had to know one thing first.
My voice was a harsh scratch, and I spoke to the floor, still bent over the side of the bed. “Did he die? Is Dean dead?”
My heart grew small and painfully tight waiting for the answer.
The nurse replied. “He’s been in and out of consciousness since surgery. He almost-”
I was already moving, throwing back the sheets, tearing drips and wires off me.
The nurse tried to talk me down. The detective stepped in front of me to urge me back to bed. I shoved him weakly, and he flew across and hit the wall with a smack, bringing a beeping machine down with him. Stronger than I could have known I’d be, I clenched my teeth as my body ran riot with overloaded emotional power.
I bolted down corridors, not giving a thought to the state of my hospital robe. I followed my nose, or rather, my heart, and found myself at ICU. I stumbled into the room Dean lay in, grabbed his hand and dropped my head onto his shoulder.
I found quiet there.
Next to Dean, the pains and pleasures of others that bellowed around me were muffled. I found myself weeping with relief.
“Hey.” Dean’s voice was dry and husky.
“You’re alive. You’re awake,” I whispered into his shoulder.
“Yeah, you too.”
I didn’t feel any cold, just soothing warmth. He wasn’t holding back. He wasn’t keeping any of his emotions from me, but still calmed me with the abilities he’d learned.
The love I sensed from him made me weep more, but happily. I wished he could experience how I felt for him in return.
I lifted my head from his shoulder and kissed him.
The kiss was gentle, lingering, and I put everything into it that I couldn’t give justice to in words. It tasted of salt tears and summer days, heating us both with glowing joy and desire.
He put a hand around my waist and pulled me onto the bed next to him. He let out a small grunt of pain when I pressed against him but kissed me harder.
I pulled my lips away just far enough to talk. “I’m sorry. You okay?”
“Worth it.” He smiled like I’d never seen before and his gray eyes sparkled as they stared into mine.
I heard shuffling near the door but couldn’t turn my eyes away from Dean’s.
“Livvy?”
It was my mom. A jolt of worry from her was enough to pull me back from Dean to face her and Dad. They came in and hugged me.
The detective and army of hospital staff I’d tackled through to reach Dean looked over their shoulders, demanding obedience and answers. My parents got rid of them with a few firm words. I backed them up with a few of my own and a little something more, and we were left in peace.
I still clung to Dean’s hand and my parents explained that the hospital called them when they identified me. They said they’d been so worried when I disappeared, but my ‘friend’ explained I’d be away for a while. It seemed to make sense at first, but then they couldn’t understand why they’d accepted that. When they found out I was in hospital it almost killed them.
They had questions for me too. Lots of them. I couldn’t manipulate them the way Jake had, the way I had the hospital staff and detective. I wouldn’t do that to them.
“I made mistakes and fell in with the wrong crowd. I’m sorry. Please don’t ask me too many questions. You won’t like the answers. If we can just leave it at that, I promise I won’t make those mistakes again.”
Maybe one day I would explain more. My parents still embodied concern. They shared a look between them and nodded slowly. I saw my mom look at Dean, and our tightly joined hands.
“And this boy, was he part of the wrong crowd?” Her tone wasn’t accusing. It was soft, tentative with care.
“No. He’s the one who saved me. And I saved him.”
Memory’s Wake
By
Selina Fenech
An illustrated fantasy novel for young adults.
In a culture of cravats and corsets, a troubled sixteen-year-old stands out in her t-shirt and torn jeans. She takes the name “Memory” because hers are stolen, and she’ll do anything to get them back. Lost in a world not her own, where magic and monstrous fairies are real, Memory has enough to handle just trying to stay alive.
Chased by wizard hunters, hunted by a dragon, stalked by a strange, handsome savage, despised by the fae and wanted by the king himself – everyone is after Memory, and she suspects it’s not just for her eye-catching outfit. Her forgotten past holds dangerous secrets that will change everything.
Memory will fight to get back to a family and home she can’t remember but desperately desires, even at the cost of new friendships and romances. On the run with no name and no memories, she thinks she has nothing left to lose. She couldn’t be more mistaken.
Chapter One
I’m falling,
she thought.
Rushing air tore at her like claws and her stomach churned. She knew only darkness and the horrible, hateful wind.
She jolted into consciousness as if waking from a nightmare, one so real, so intense, it left her soul shaken. All she remembered from her dream was the noise; a furious, bellowing rumble, like the call of a hungry dragon from a dark and twisted fairytale. It turned her insides as much as the sensation of falling. Now awake, she couldn’t understand why she still heard it, why she still felt like she plummeted into hell. Some other sound teased her, unidentifiable, lost in the wind.
“What’s happening? Is someone calling me? Where am I?” Pain rampaged through her and the questions fell away. Her scream twisted into a whimper.
A voice reached her. Persistent, hysterical, all static and unclear sounds.
She called out, tearing her throat raw with effort, trying to reach through the gusting void to whatever had spoken. “Can’t hear. Please help, it hurts!”
The talking stopped. The wailing wind and painful rumbling continued. Her insides rattled as if her ribcage had been hollowed out and filled with marbles. She thought she might throw up.
The feeling of hands grabbing her forced out a harsh scream. Then, like slamming a door on a windy day, the tearing air stopped and the world became solid. Her skin still tingled right to her fingertips but the pain had gone, replaced by burning in her chest. Panic crawled up her back, tugging at her with icy fingers.
Stop. Look. Feel,
she ordered herself, attempting slow breaths.
Her eyes stung as they opened. Dark hair hung around her face, curtaining her vision. She lay on the ground, face down. Had she fallen? Her body hurt all over, so maybe she had. Old blackened leaves spread in front of her eyes and the smell of dirt and rot added to her lingering nausea. Sharp twigs poked through her jeans. She spat soil from her mouth.
That other voice spoke again. “By the fae, what has happened? Can you hear me now?” It was a girl’s voice, young, like her own. A strange accent made it curiously elegant and musical. The tremor of fear in it only made it more so.
Fighting the weakness in her body, she nodded to the voice and managed to roll over. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked out into a twilit forest of wild briars and giant trees. Beside her, another girl crouched on the ground; plump but strikingly pretty, with skin and hair so pale it was almost white against the shadowed woods. The long hair tumbled all around the stranger, making her look like a beautiful, scared ghost.
Their breathing matched each other’s; fast, labored, scared out of their minds. An intense frown of thought and calculation marred Ghost-girl’s face, the look of a mind weighing options, assessing risks, looking for answers. In her own head she could feel nothing but the fractures of stress upon her sanity.
She stared at Ghost-girl, hoping for some recognition. No name came to her, but she felt a strange connection to the pale girl, almost a physical attraction. She wondered what it could mean and coughed out a giggle, hysteria rising. This didn’t seem like the time to be questioning her sexuality. Her thoughts scattered in all directions, racing frantically, searching for answers to the growing crowd of questions. Every one drew a blank.
“Alward?” Ghost-girl called out into the trees. “Alward? Oh no, he didn’t make it through.” Wide green eyes, shadowed and full of fear, darted from the surrounding woods back onto her. “I’m not where I ought to be. Did you do this, did you bring me here? Was it magic of yours? How did you come to be caught within my Veil door?”
She could only gape at Ghost-girl.
Magic? Is that why my skin’s tingling like this? But magic’s not real.
She wasn’t sure she could say just now what was or wasn’t real, but the accusations confused and stung. She was sure she hadn’t done any
bringing.
There must have been some kind of accident, she thought, feeling like the victim of something. She worked hard to find words again. “What...” She paused. So many questions, where to start? “What happened?”