Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2) (25 page)

“NO!” I scream, lunging forward and simultaneously whipping out my escrima sticks. The bird is too fast, too close. Its beak clips the shiny chain lying on the back of Pearl’s neck. Measured wing beats propel the black bird away. It’s already too high for me to reach. The sight of the long, silver chain dangling from its beak thins my blood. The possessed creature flies higher and higher, becoming smaller and smaller.

I clutch Pearl by the arm. “Come on, you’ve got to get up.”

Her hands rub her neck, which is already bleeding from the bird’s beak. Tears race down her face, a violent moan escaping her mouth. “My charm! It’s gone. Chase will get in my head now. I’m dead. I’m already dead,” she says in a tortured whisper.

“No, he won’t,” I say, gripping both her arms. “You have to return to the Institute. Do it now!”

“But—”

“Don’t argue. You’ve got to get out of here.”

She nods. “Okay, you’re right,” she says through ragged breaths.

“Can I get a little help over here?!” Trent’s voice calls frantically. He’s perched over a blood-drenched George. My heart twists tightly, restricting my breath. Every single part of him appears to be injured somehow.

As I sprint for him, everything speeds up. Pulse. Breath. Movements. “George,” I murmur, cradling his blood-covered face in my hands. His eyes flutter open only briefly. Consciousness is a luxury for him right now.

“I couldn’t stop it,” Trent says. I’ve never seen a more serious expression on his face.

“You got him here. That’s what counts now,” I say, running my eyes over the multiple cuts along George’s face.

Pearl drags up George’s armor. Breath hitches in my throat. Head swims. I almost lose it. There, lodged in his side, is the curved blade. Metal protruding from his flesh doesn’t compute. I continue to stare, disbelieving what I’m seeing until blood seeps from the wound and oozes down. This is bad. Extremely bad.

“Trent, give me your bandana,” I demand, extending out my hand, not taking my eyes off George’s knife wound. The soft fabric of the bandana which was wrapped around Trent’s head greets my hand. “Thanks, now move the largest boulder you can to cover that hole.” It won’t stop her, but it will slow her down.

George’s hand in mine is cold and wet with blood. I hover by his side. He drifts in and out of consciousness. Pushing away all the pain churning in this moment, I focus on Pearl. “Can you fix him?”

For the first time I witness her face turn confident. Steadily she places her tiny hands on the hilt of the knife. “Yes.”

“Good,” I say, the tears rising up in my throat. “As soon as you do then you must travel to the Institute. Okay, on the count of three remove the blade. While I minimize the blood loss you get right to work healing. One. Two. Three.”

Pearl’s knuckles go white as she grips the blade, trying to free it from George’s body. He seizes my hand with an unearthly force, attempting to sit up. My free arm pins his chest down. Gurgled sobs, loud and terrifying, echo out of him and through the cave. And still his eyes don’t open. Still he remains locked in a fit of unconscious twitches. “Come on, George. You fight,” I whisper.

The blade springs from his body, and Pearl falters back a foot from the release. Immediately, my hands press the bandana into the wound, which is quickly spilling with more blood than I thought possible. All the jerks and flaying have left George’s body. He’s officially passed out. Lost in shock. “Hurry, Pearl!” I scream, pressing every ounce of pressure I own into George. The crimson-covered knife clatters to the ground as Pearl moves back into position.

Trent has returned, his face three shades paler than it was moments ago. “Hole is secure.”

“Good.” I regret the order before I give it, but still I force the words out of my mouth. “Take my place here. Help Pearl bring him back.”

Trent nods, covering my hands with his own and pressing down as I slip mine away. George’s blood drenches my hands like gloves. It’s unreal and wrong. My stomach lurches with the sudden urge to spill its contents. Swallowing the bile, I wipe George’s blood on my suit and turn my attention to the battle I know is ensuing behind us.

The other five birds. They’re attacking Joseph and Samara, diving at their heads. They’re trained to go after our charms. It wouldn’t take much to slip Samara’s earrings off or pinch Joseph’s bracelet in half.

Samara parries one bird with her elbow, then pivots and slices another with her sword. It falls to the ground in a heap and convulses. Joseph is seemingly doing pretty well using his fists to batter any of the birds that get too close.

One of the birds dives for me. I shoot forward, spin around, and send my front leg into the air with my back leg tucked. The flying kick successfully collides with the bird, sending him to the ground. Instantly, before he takes flight, I whip my escrima stick down and smash his head against the rock ground.

The three of us form a triangle, our backs to each other. We continue to fight the three remaining birds. They circle us, taking turns diving at our heads. Their loud cries pierce my eardrums.

Then all at once they disappear into the dark cave walls. I take a step back, feeling Samara and Joseph behind me, but not daring to turn around. My bracelet is tight on my wrist and although I know it would be tough to get it off, it wouldn’t be impossible. Only one pin needs to be pushed, then it will split in two and be gone, soaring through the air.

Everything’s eerily silent. All I hear is a dripping noise.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
All three birds bolt at us from different directions. I make an effort to block, while also not striking my team members behind me. Lunging forward, I attack one of the deranged crow-like birds.

Samara catches her breath, while Joseph defends himself against two birds at once. His knuckles and hands are red and bloody. “Hey!” I shout at him. He looks up in time to catch the stick I tossed in his direction. Reenergized by the new weapon, Joseph unleashes a series of swift strikes, knocking both birds down to the stone ground.

“Get the last one,” I say. “I’m going to check on the others.”

Relief doesn’t even begin to describe how satisfying it feels to see George sitting up. It’s hard to believe moments ago he was unconscious. I want to run to him, press my hands against his skin to ensure his heart still beats. Morning light cuts across the distance that separates us, casting everything in a hazy glow. Moving as quickly as I can without slipping on the slick stone I trace a path to him.

The three of them sit by the edge of a pond. George must be washing off the blood. As I get closer I realize he’s not moving. Neither is Pearl or Trent. They sit stock-still, eyes focused to the middle of the pond. I follow their gaze to find something so bizarre I quickly blink to clear my vision. A droplet materializes six feet above the pond, suspends momentarily, then drops onto the water’s surface, casting ripples. Then in the same spot as the last one another drop materializes and falls. And again. And again. And again.

Even the knowledge that I’m being hypnotized doesn’t allow me to look away. Another droplet materializes in thin air and falls on the water’s surface, creating the most uniquely beautiful ripples. Again my eyes rise up just as a new droplet forms and again I follow it down. Although entranced by the mysterious display, my eyes still blink, my mind still thinks. I admit to the compulsive allure, but deep inside I know I’m in control. The force I need to look away is within me, a locked box only I can access. The key is a thought, which unlocks an indomitable spirit, one that rages forward causing my head to shake suddenly. It’s enough to disrupt my attention from the hypnosis. My eyes jerk away and although I’m queasy and drained, I’m also relieved to have fought back. I’m grounded firmly in myself.

My relief is short-lived when I spin around and focus on the other three. They’re fully entranced. Their faces slackened, eyes devoid of emotion.
How long has this been going on?

Placing myself between them and the hypnotic spectacle I wave my arms wildly. “Hey! Hey! It’s me! Roya! Look away now!” No eyes flicker from their focal point. Nothing changes. Assaulted by a new fear I clasp George’s shoulders with both my hands, shake him. “Look at me! Fight this! Please!” He moves. My pulse quickens. To my horror George only leans three inches so he can continue staring at the water.

From the corner of my vision I see Samara and Joseph have been victorious against the birds and are rushing over to join us. “Stay there,” I order. “Watch the door.” The last thing I need is those two spellbound.

How am I going to break this hypnosis?
I can’t reach the droplet. The rippling water, though—it’s a part of the equation. Turning around I ram my hand into the pond, bent on disturbing the effect. Scorching fire attacks. Immediately I retract my hand, which is already blistering from the burn. The water is boiling hot.

“No! No! No!” I scream, almost cry. I clap in their faces, my burned hand smarting instantly. But I don’t care; I’ve got to stop this. “You’re being hypnotized!” I scream louder than before.

Pearl cocks her head at me sharply, her eyes lost somehow. A sudden robotic smile. “No, not all of us are being hypnotized,” she says, in a voice that isn’t hers. “Just these two.”

My heart races. Oh, God! Chase is controlling her now. Devastation rips through me, a wild beast. Now I have an android and two zombies. Heat rises in my head as I stare between George and Trent and Pearl. Ren said only one option was left once Chase controlled someone. But I can’t do that. Won’t.

A spot of red appears beneath Trent’s nose. Then the blood begins to ooze from both nostrils.

“Looks like he’s ready to be undressed,” Pearl says, standing up like a robot and teetering over to Trent.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“J
oseph! Samara!” I yell, never taking my eyes off Pearl. She’s two feet from Trent. “Get over here now!”

One foot away. Not seeing any other options I lunge forward, sending the escrima stick into Pearl’s abdomen. I knew she was tiny, but not until I assaulted her with a deadly weapon did I realize how unbelievably fragile she is. Her knees buckle and she doubles over, gasping for breath. Strange that even a possessed body knows how to react to pain.

“Stark!” Joseph bellows, halting beside me, a stunned expression on his face. “What are you doing?” His eyes flick down to my bracelet, tightly clasped on my wrist.

“I’m not the one who lost my protective charm. It’s Pearl. She’s under Chase’s control.” My words are cold and distant. “Restrain her.”

Joseph and Samara each seize one of her rail-thin arms. Pearl tugs wildly between the two of them, her movements doing little to free her. “Please let me go,” she says with a persuasive whine. “I’m fine. Seriously. He’s gone now.” Her voice still doesn’t sound like her own, it’s more pinched, more deliberate.

Joseph and Samara exchange uneasy looks. “Hold on to her. Don’t let her go, no matter what,” I say firmly. “I have to help these guys. They’ve been hypnotized.”

A chill runs down my spine when I turn my attention back to George and Trent. Blood now pours out of both of their noses. It’s leaked down past Trent’s chin, snaking its way to his neck. George, who doesn’t have much blood left to lose, is the color of copy paper.

This isn’t good. Are they going to die in front of me? Is there nothing I can do?
Ren said that to break the hypnosis the illusion had to be stopped. But that’s impossible. The droplet is out of reach and the pond boiling hot.

Drip. Drip. Drip.
The silence between the drips makes it impossible to think.
Watching Trent and George slowly sink further into a comatose state arrests any focus I have left.
Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Damn it! We have to find a way to stop this.” I turn, seeking refuge from Joseph and Samara. Doom plummets to the bottom of my stomach. They can’t help me. In unison Joseph’s and Samara’s eyes rise up, watch the droplet form, and then trail it down, like a cat following a string in the air. They’re entranced. Pearl stands free, her hands by her side, like a soldier robot.

Drip. Drip. Drip.
It’s the leak from a faucet in a sleeping house. I’m the only one awake and it’s driving me mad!

“Joseph,” I say, a scared hiccup in my throat. “Wake up.” As I suspected his attention doesn’t waver from the illusion. Moment by moment I know he’s sinking deeper away. His vibrant eyes are empty, stuck in another world. One I don’t know how to pull him back from. One that’s quickly sucking the life out of the people I love.

“NOOOOO!” I roar, a new rage taking shape inside me. The Voyageurs abducted Aiden, mutilated George, possessed Pearl, and now are going to suck every bit of consciousness from the people in this room.

“No,” I say again, a cold firmness in my voice. Hot winds battle inside me, burning everything until I can’t take the pain any longer. I stare at the pond, the object that will destroy everyone around me. “No,” I say in a clipped whisper. Maybe I didn’t understand Bob’s words before. Maybe I don’t believe them now. But engulfed by my powerful rage this idea feels right:
I am the wind.

With everything I have left I push an energy, raw and ancient, out of me. It stirs a gentle breeze, one that rustles my hair. I encourage it, feeding it every emotion within me: hate, fear, desire, love. A force the size of a gale unleashes inside me, pulling my chest skyward like something is being sucked out. For a second I believe my toes will come off the ground as the last bit of power barrels out of me. Blinding white light explodes in front of my vision.

Around me the wind howls. Angry. Vengeful. Using my emotional turmoil I ignite it to greater speeds, urging it to rip apart this cave if that’s what it takes.
Yes
,
blast everything, sweet wind. Destroy everything, even if that means destroying me.
My vision clears to a storm of dust and water spinning horizontally around me, but my hair and clothes remain still. A cursory glance around confirms what I instinctively knew: I’m in the eye of the storm. I am the storm.