Revived (The Lucidites Book 3) (16 page)

“One of my gifts is knowingness,” Trey says. “Your gift is ruled by Anahata. Mine is governed by the sixth chakra, Ajna. Informally you know this as intuition.”

“Everyone has intuition, how can that be a gift?”

“The reliability and frequency of my intuitive notions is what makes it a gift, much the same way as your clairvoyance.”

“So yours is never wrong?” I say, doubt oozing in my tone.

“Exactly.”

“How do you know what’s intuition and what’s just some hunch or idea or worry?” I ask, not understanding how something so flimsy as intuition can be classified as a gift.

“How do you know the visions you see are of the future?” he counters.

“Because it comes through me, instead of from me,” I say automatically.

He nods, a knowing in his eyes.

“What are your other gifts?”

“I control water. Produce it in a dreamscape and govern bodies of water in the physical realm.”

“What?” I say, disbelief streaking the word.

Trey holds up his hand. “Currently I can’t grace this conversation with the time and attention it deserves. I will, though, in the future.”

Why does he always have to do that? Dangle something of great importance and relevance in front of me and then postpone the conversation. How many times has he promised we’ll discuss something more in depth later and that moment never comes?

“My main concern is your safety when Zhuang enters the Institute,” Trey says, looking at me, then Joseph. “You both must leave the Institute as soon as you hear the sirens. Is that clear?”

Joseph nods.

I have zero intention of leaving as Trey is dictating. But arguing with him will get me nowhere. Really his determination to control every aspect of my life just incites my bitterness. And more than anything I want Trey to feel the undeniable heartbreak he’s done to us.

“So you’re sending us away again?” I say, threading my arms together and leaning back in the chair. “It’s like a game, isn’t it?”

“Do you honestly believe I wanted to send you away? Separate you?” Trey says, a tiredness in his words.

“You’ve offered us no other explanation. I get separating us in the Middling world, but we would have been safe here from Zhuang. So, if you sent us away, I have to assume the reason is––”

“It isn’t because I didn’t want you,” he cuts me off, jaw tensed. “That’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“Well, you’re the only one who knows the truth, as usual,” I say, careful to keep a tone of indifference.

“The truth is when your mother died, any hope of you both living a normal life died too.”

The mention of our mother assaults me, briefly knocking the mask off my face.

“She planned to raise you two together in the Middling world,” Trey says, taking in the surface of the desk under his hands, like that’s where his crafted speech resides. “What she didn’t know then, and I didn’t learn until after you were born, was that you couldn’t be together in an unprotected environment. Your energy fields are too strong when together. I wanted to raise you here, but the technology that protects us in the Institute was unreliable then. We didn’t have the VDR shield, or energy buffers, or protective charms. We were constantly a target for Zhuang and other enemies. I couldn’t ensure you’d be safe here. Sadly, even if your mother had survived we would have had to make tough choices regarding your upbringing. But we would have shared that burden. In the end,
I
alone made the only choice that I knew would keep you safe and also be in line with your mother’s wishes. She wanted you to know grass and sunsets and wind. The only way that was going to happen was if I split you up.” Trey flashes his eyes on me and only me. “It’s simply false to think I sent you away because I didn’t want you.”

I refuse to break under the pressure of Trey’s eyes focused on mine. How dare he speak of our mother so casually? Act as if the idea of her and the choices that shaped our lives should easily be digestible. If he thinks his little speech is going to soften me, then he underestimates my resilience.

“In the time that’s allowed to us,” he continues slowly, “I hope I’m able to prove how much I really do love the two of you.”

“Don’t you dare use that word!” I jerk upright, all pretenses of apathy abandoned. “Things are complicated enough without you defaulting to manipulation.”

Trey turns his head suddenly, as if I just slapped him. He stares at the wall. Swallows. Mouth twitches. Nostrils flare. From his profile I spy a restraint in him I’ve never seen before.

Slowly he fixes his eyes on me, a sunken grief floating to the surface. “Saying words I’ve never had the privilege to express freely to my children isn’t manipulation. It’s a right I was stripped of when I made the choice to protect you. Hate me for all the reasons you have, but don’t for one second think I’m a monster who doesn’t love you.”

Chapter Twenty

I
believe when a heart breaks a substance spills out like cement and pours through the bloodstream, hardening everything. In time, I know my heart will mend and the rock inside will crack and crumble away. But for now I’m as solid as a column. And alone I stand.

Unconcerned for Trey’s forbiddance, I dream travel alone to the forest outside the house where I grew up. The path through the trees overgrew a few years ago, but still I can make my way through this place blindfolded. The ground cover and thick vines don’t deter me from stalking deeper into the woods until I come to the small clearing. I could have dream traveled to this spot, but I wanted to take the trek. Wanted it to remind me of who I used to be. To relish the memory of living a simple life, uncomplicated by conspiracies and danger. I’d hoped that along the journey I would wake in my old bed and find that although my parents still despised my existence, they were in fact my true blood. That my life wasn’t a lie and my fate wasn’t haunted by death.

The old log is exactly where I remember it––nestled in a patch of sand and dirt, encircled by a column of trees. It’s a relief to find the refuge I spent so many hours in as a child untouched by the last few months. I wish I could say the same about me, but my short time at the Institute has left branding marks on my insides. I sink down onto the fallen oak tree and feel the weight of my confusing emotions settle on the log along with me. The last time I was in this clearing I’d been such a different person. None of this dream travel or Lucidite business was even a blip on my radar. Now, I’m fully engulfed in this life and it’s drowning me. The Roya from a few months ago would never have believed all this.

The stagnant air swishes gently. I should have known better than to think I’d get a moment to myself. I don’t escape by dream traveling because my forlorn heart wants to play with fire and prove it’s strong enough to stomp it out. I stay unmoving, waiting for him to approach. First I take stock of my heart’s messages. Then I lock it under the logic of my mind, which knows not to trust any emotions. With a practiced effort, I push my emotional shield out, ensuring whatever fleeting wrong or right feelings I have remain private. I chant in my head the words which have become my mantra:
I don’t love Chase.

The twigs don’t even crunch under Chase’s feet as he advances. I look up and see him for exactly who he is: A ridiculously gorgeous murderer.

I don’t need a patch for my charm. I don’t need anything from the Institute. I can do this alone.

A chain drapes off the middle button of Chase’s vest and disappears behind his open suit jacket, probably into a side pocket and connected to an elegant watch. He’s even more impeccably dressed than usual. As casually as a man waiting for a train, he kickstands himself up against the tree closest to me. Unafraid, I meet his enchanting eyes, holding his all-pervading gaze which threatens to swallow me whole. Dancing with the devil tonight actually sounds like a good idea.

“What a gift,” he says, his voice like warm silk to my arctic-scorched soul. “I’ve got you all to myself.”

A reply stays locked in my mouth. Instead I indulge myself by taking in every exquisite detail about him. Murderer or not, he’s still the most striking specimen to ever live. He shouldn’t be here. He should be in a museum so all the world can relish his beauty and experience the raw intensity that radiates from him. Suddenly I wish I was up against him, because at least from that vantage point I couldn’t see just how flawless he is.

“What are you doing here?” The offense I was trying to inject in my tone comes out sounding more like curiosity.

A ghost of a smile flicks across his face. Motionless eyes watch me for a few seconds. “The reasons I’m here are many. And the result of our visit shall hopefully be successful.”

Unwrapping my arms from around my legs I stand up. To know I can move is encouraging. I’m not frozen by his allure like usual. Deliberately I take steps until only a couple of feet separate us. “Why do you stalk me?”

Pushing off the tree, Chase stands upright, face amused. “They have not told you?” He clicks his tongue three times. “How come you trust people who are unwilling to be honest with you?”

“Told me what?” I say, again the words mine, the ability to move and think still within my control. But my heart is manic with a flurry of competing emotions.

“I need you to know who I am before I tell you why I’m here.”

“I know who you are,” I say. “You’re a deranged murderer.” Instantly my heart races, frantic that I’ve offended him. I clap a hand down on it. Steady my thoughts.

Chase, unflustered by my name calling, slides his palms back and forth across each other. “And you know this because the Lucidites have deemed it so, is that right? The same people who hide important information from you?” He pouts his lips, shakes his head. “Roya, you’re so much smarter than that. Don’t let your judgment be clouded.”

“I don’t trust anyone. How’s that for judgment?”

“That’s a good place to start,” Chase says, his long black eyelashes falling down slowly as a pleased smile forms on his face. “Now, the Lucidites have told you who I am, but I’m willing to show you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re intrigued, are you not?”

I draw in a long breath, my heart racing, beating itself against the bars of its cage.

“Close your eyes,” Chase demands, a lovely harshness in his voice.

“Absolutely not.”

Chase huffs, looking aggravated for the first time. “Have I ever hurt you? No, I haven’t. And I don’t intend to. I haven’t even touched you since we met tonight, have I? I simply want to show you some things.”

My mind, which is completely lucid, considers the idea. If Trey knew I was here right now, he’d be livid. My heart flushes with rebellion and it’s the first time since Chase arrived that I think I’ve experienced an authentic emotion. I unlock the cage and let my heart free as I close my eyes.

“Good girl,” Chase purrs. “Now watch.”

Light explodes across my vision, not blinding me, but warming my mind. I see no images, but instead feel a host of memories pour into me. Instantly I’m aware of Chase’s thoughts and emotions, as if they’re my own. Then I receive a volume of information about him, detailing past hurts and successes, dozens of his likes and dislikes, and intimately acquainting me with the image he holds of himself. Gasping from the sudden rush of experiences I snap my eyes open. In less than a minute I learned more about Chase than I would after a dozen dates. And what I know is startling. He doesn’t see any of his acts of violence as senseless, but rather retribution for crimes committed against him…by Trey.

“You see,
mon amour
, I’m willing to give you all of me,” Chase says, taking a step closer. “This is not a game. I show you who I am. The Lucidites tell you who they are. Who do you really believe?”

“I don’t… I don’t… know,” I stutter, my mind a mess of images and unfathomable thoughts.

“What do you feel?”

“I feel confused,” I say.

“Take my hand and we will figure it out together.” His long-fingered hand extends, palm open.

It’s both a rod pulled from hot coals and a rope thrown over the cliff I hang from. I shake my head roughly.

He tightens his eyes, furious disappointment in them. “The
reason
we keep meeting,” he says, biting on each of the words, “is because you belong to me.”

Maybe it’s being capsized by so much of him, but I suddenly don’t have such a tight grip on my heart’s urges. Can feel my attraction to him. Pulsing. Racing. My heart begs to embrace the undying love we share and still I feel half in control. It’s a joy ride where each curve threatens with near-death and each straightaway soothes the adrenaline rush. “I belong to you…” I say, like I’m testing out words, learning a new language.

“Yes, that’s right,” Chases coerces gently. “Are you still confused?”

I nod, because I am. I’m split in two, half wanting to run into his arms and also away.

“Take my hand,” he commands, all softness gone.

I remain frozen. Not running. Not accepting the outstretched hand.

“Don’t you want me?”

“Yes,” I say, without meaning to. Believe it with half my being.

A sliver of a smile carves his lips. I convulse softly under the weight of his brilliant gaze.

“Do you want to spend an eternity with me?”

“Yes,” someone says and the voice sounds uncannily like mine.

“Good, touch me.”

I want to. More than anything I want to. But clamped down firmly upon my being are chains from my mind, controlling my body even though they fail to control my words.

“This time I won’t tempt you, although I know that will work. This time I want you to make the first move. Do it. Touch me.”

The word “no” is trapped inside me. And the need to flee is as well. The temptation to press my mouth against his increases rapidly and the longer I hold out the more my blood boils. I reach my hand up to his face but pause when it’s almost there, yanking it away. Chase doesn’t look deterred, but rather entertained.

“I see we still have a disconnect here,” he says. “My guess is that your own conservative nature is blocking you from what you really want. This might be fortunate for the Roya who operates you right now, but soon you will evolve and be the person
I
control. Isn’t that what you really want anyway? To do what pleases me?”