Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) Page 16

  From nowhere Shuman pulls a snake out of the air and holds it in her arms. Its rattle flickers and my chest flutters.

  “My friends,” she continues, “have aided me all my life and continue to be my guide.” She throws the snake into the air and it lands safely on the ground and slithers through a maze of chairs. “My reason for showing you this is that if you have a spirit animal then do not run from it. Grab it. Ask it what it wants from you. And maybe it will offer its protection when you are in need. My guess is at least one of you is protected by the animals.” She points at each one of us individually. “The question is which one?”

  Shuman stares at us for a long second and then disappears. We all follow suit, returning to our bodies. I stare at the tattoo on her arm with a new interest. Suddenly it isn’t as creepy. The rattlesnake’s features are kind of beautiful as I spy the details of each of the scales along the serpent’s body. Shuman waits until we’re all back in our bodies and standing once more. Her words are quiet and raspy and I sometimes wonder if, like Ren, this is all part of an act.

  “Pay special attention to your dreams,” she says hoarsely as she strides out of the room.

  ♦

  A few days later I receive a message from Aiden asking me to meet him in his lab. Mixed feelings tether my insides. I’m ecstatic to get out of training with Ren this afternoon, but I’m dreading facing Aiden. I grip the letter written in the Head Scientist’s handwriting and my mind reels back to when he called me “extraordinary.” Did he mean it like I’m a special lab rat? Or is it how he thinks of me as a girl? Honestly, I’m unsure which I prefer.

  I’ve been avoiding Aiden since our last meeting. Ever since he held my hand, his touch has haunted me, painting my unconscious dreams with images of him. Many nights I’ve awoken with sweaty palms and a nervous hiccup in my throat, and it isn’t because I’ll soon face Zhuang. I’m the challenger, though, and therefore this emotion, my attraction, has to be ignored. Focus, Roya. Don’t get distracted.

  Before I’m even close to Aiden’s lab I hear the music drumming its way down the corridor, beckoning me forward. The echo of the singer’s voice courses through my veins. Unable to resist it, a smile unfolds on my face as her words hum passionately in my chest.

  “You’re a hard girl to get time with,” Aiden says as he plays with a small, flat box hanging at the end of a necklace.

  “I know. I’ve been busy,” I say.

  “Rightly so.” That look of remorse falls on his face again. “Roya, this is all going to—”

  “Don’t,” I stop him. “I’ve been getting this pep talk from everyone. Spare me.” My words sound coarser than I intended, but still, there they hang in the air between us.

  Silence. It’s uncomfortable, like I put my shoes on the wrong feet.

  “So why’d you call me down here?” I finally ask.

  Aiden gives me a sideways look, lips pursed. “For a few reasons.” His eyes fixate on me. Hungry. His look is infectious. My stomach clenches with an uncomfortable desire. His proximity, the music, that look. It’s too much. I jerk my eyes to the object pressed between his fingers. It resembles a camera’s memory card.

  “Is that your protective charm?” I ask.

  “Actually, my charm is a necklace, but this isn’t it. I wear mine under my shirt.”

  “Oh.” I swallow, staring at the necklace and not his piercing eyes. Suddenly something rises to the surface, like a weird déjà vu moment.

  “Wait, I think I’ve seen that before.” I point to the flat box on the silver chain. “Wasn’t that in my closet in the fifth task?”

  Aiden nods. “Indeed.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s complicated. The short answer is, it was in your closet because I’m about to give it to you.” He gives a crooked smile as he plays with the device between his fingers like a poker chip.

  “What was the right answer to the question for the fifth task?” I ask to avoid more silence and hungry stares. “What was the object of most importance? Was that it?”

  Aiden snickers. “There wasn’t a right or wrong answer. The purpose of the task was to test dream travel ability.”

  “Oh,” I say, surprised.

  “You know, dream traveling is a skill most have to hone to do properly, at least for the first few years.”

  “So?” I shrug in confusion.

  “So, that doesn’t seem to apply to you,” Aiden says, gnawing on a smile. “Most contenders never even found their closets, since I kind of made them hidden.”

  I scowl at him to cover up my satisfaction. I found my closet.

  “The ones who did find their closets successfully,” Aiden continues, “had difficulty traveling back to when the hourglass was full.”

  “Then why the riddle?”

  “Well, we had to have something for the few who actually made it and needed an extra challenge.”

  “But that’s confusing, to give a riddle that there’s no answer for.” I huff with mock frustration, trying to conceal the pride his comments have unleashed.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I thought you had a pretty good answer,” he says, his eyes dancing over mine like sunlight on the ocean.

  “Well,” I stir away from him. “You said you’d explain why my bracelet was in the closet.”

  “It’s true, I did. Regrettably we don’t have time to discuss that at the moment.” A flirtatious smile spreads across his face before he adds, “Perhaps another time.”

  He’s so devastatingly distracting. Does he know he’s complicating my ability to concentrate at the time I need it most? The urge to reach across the space and wrap my arms around him traverses through my mind. I shake my consciousness, willing it to focus and abandon primitive desires.

  “The real reason I asked you down here is, I need you to test a new piece of technology.” Lowering his head he pulls off the necklace and holds it out with both hands offering it to me. Hesitation prickles my throat. I ignore it. Taking a few cautious steps forward I allow only inches to separate us. Aiden smiles, seemingly enjoying the budding tension. He drapes the necklace over my head. His fingers linger on my skin and I flick my eyes up to meet his. I’m frozen, staring into his sapphire eyes. Intoxicated. He’s close. Closer than ever before. His breath is warm on my cheeks. All I want is to reach out and pull him closer. The hunger burns now, like a bonfire out of control. His eyes stoke this growing fire and I have all but abandoned any attempts to be practical in this situation.

  “Excuse me.” A voice splinters the air.

  “Hey there.” The Head Scientist breaks away from me. “Come in.”

  It’s George. With drooped shoulders he stands awkwardly in the doorway. His eyes don’t meet mine or Aiden’s; instead, he stares somewhere to the right of us. “You requested my participation with something?” he asks dully.

  I’m completely baffled. How has such a perfect moment, albeit unnerving, gone to one so lame? This is the opposite of satisfying. I turn and watch Aiden, who has straightened up and looks serious, yet excited.

  The Head Scientist pulls two stools out onto the floor. “George,” he says, indicating a stool. “Please have a seat.” He points to the other. “Roya.” I comply.

  Pacing a circle around us the scientist begins, “Roya, you’ve no doubt noticed George is quite distant, right?”

  He pauses, but I decide against answering.

  “One might say George appears to be distracted, frustrated, and even angry at times. This is because he’s always had the ability to read people’s emotions.” With his head down and hands clasped behind his back the scientist has made one complete loop around us.

  “However, there’s one hindrance to his ability and it showed up when you arrived. Mr. George Anders can’t read emotions when you’re around.” Aiden stops in front of me and points. “You disarm him.”

  Me? How? Why? There must be a mistake. Stunned, I turn to George. Sad eyes stare at the ground and broad shoulders slump in defeat. He’s hardly pr
esent.

  The Head Scientist continues, “It’s your frequency, Roya. The level that your frequency vibrates blocks George’s ability to pick up on emotions. Actually, you block everything for poor Mr. Anders. Interesting, huh?”

  More like bewildering.

  He spins his gaze to George. “This hasn’t been very easy on Mr. Anders. How do you think you’d be acting if you met someone who turned your world upside down?” A spark radiates in Aiden’s eyes as we connect. He winks, making my insides grow warmer. I turn to George, relieved to find he didn’t witness this gesture. He doesn’t look as though he’d witness a missile if it struck the ground next to him. My mother would say he’s in la-la land.

  As if to make up for George’s lack of life, Aiden ramps up his enthusiasm. “Naturally, you’d be completely and utterly distraught, which is why George appears to be a bit odd in demeanor. You see, your frequency isn’t only creating a disturbance in his ability to pick up on emotions, it’s creating interference with his senses. I hypothesize that your high vibrational frequency is overwhelming George. You’re all he feels and it’s actually too much, too strong for his intuitive ability to interpret—the way he has been able to with all other people his whole life. Pretty extraordinary, don’t you think?” Aiden cocks his head to the side and looks earnestly interested in my reply.

  I remain silent.

  The scientist continues, “However, I’ve determined the level at which your frequency vibrates. With the device you’re currently wearing I can change your frequency by just a fraction of a hertz. This isn’t much, but I think it will be enough to make the difference.”

  Aiden rubs his hands together eagerly. “Please pay attention, lady and gentleman, because I’m about to make history.”

  I eye the small box around my neck. George stares nervously at it too, his brown eyes wide. We both turn our attention to the eager scientist. With a large grin he says, “It’s show time!” He leans forward, his smile widening as he nears my face. I freeze. In one movement he picks up the device, pushes a tiny switch on the bottom of the black box, and stands back. Eyes narrowed, the Head Scientist turns to George gauging his reaction. I follow suit.

  George’s face keeps the same pained expression it has worn for weeks. As I take in his dispirited stance all of his behavior begins to make sense. This is why he’d been hostile toward me and absent the rest of the time. He must have thought I was a demon of Zhuang’s, sent to steal his powers.

  With my eyes intently on George I see the transformation happen at the most gradual level. His firm chin softens. Fixed jaw relaxes. Tight lips part. Intense stare calms and revolves around the room, moving from object to object until his expressionless face becomes animated and meets mine. I swallow and it feels like a wad of fabric. A different person has taken the place of the dejected guy who sat opposite of me moments ago. Now I see George Anders properly for the first time. Soft. Sincere. Understated. Strong. Present.

  Transfixed on me, he stands. A smile spreads across George’s face. I’ve never seen one there. It shifts his brown eyes into something distinct and different, making his irises shine. It’s as though Frankenstein’s monster has just awoken, but he isn’t horrid at all. He’s the opposite. Suddenly I’m taking in every single ounce of this person who hardly existed moments ago.

  George revolves his dark eyes until they find the Head Scientist standing triumphantly a few feet away. He starts forward, pulling Aiden’s dangling hand into his, wringing it earnestly. “Thank you,” George says in a low rush. “You did it.”

  Aiden beams. “That’s fantastic! And the static, is it gone?”

  George runs his fingers through his wavy blond hair. “Yes. Completely.”

  “Your empathesis? Has it returned?” the scientist asks, sounding very clinical.

  “I think so,” George says, looking pleasant but guarded.

  “And your senses? How are they?”

  He pauses, taking in a deep breath. The exhale is one of relief. “Normal. I feel like I can breathe after a long time of being suffocated.”

  My heart folds up on itself and then free falls down to my stomach.

  George turns at once pointing at me with his eyes. He’s the size of a linebacker but moves with agile grace. “Roya, you should know that what happened to me, what I went through, wasn’t your fault.”

  Can he feel the ache erupting in my belly? Is that why he’s feeding me this line?

  “What your frequency does to me, it’s random. Anyone could affect me this way. Don’t you think so?” George pivots and glances at Aiden for confirmation.

  “It’s quite possible,” the Head Scientist offers but doesn’t look convinced.

  “You see there.” George turns back and consoles me. “If anyone should feel sorry it’s me. I haven’t been kind to you. I was confused and disoriented, which is a poor excuse, but the only one I have.” An adorable dimple surfaces on his left cheek as he smiles at me coyly.

  I nod, uncertain how to react. The guy in front of me is a complete stranger, and apparently has the ability to rummage through my emotions as frequently as I experience them. But I have the ability to disarm him. None of this is fair. However, I remind myself that those who speak of fairness are always on the losing side. Life is what I make of it. There are no odds on my side or luck to corral in my favor. I’m uncertain how this mentality is going to serve me in this predicament or my new life. Time will tell.

  “Well, I dare say this has been a successful afternoon,” the Head Scientist says as he escorts us to the exit. “I have work to do and you two probably have some catching up.”

  I hang back momentarily, waiting for one last hungry stare from Aiden. With his arms folded across his chest he gives a polite smile, the same one a neighbor casually offers when you see them on the street. I don’t return it, but instead turn and leave.

  “Oh, and Roya,” Aiden calls behind me.

  I whip around to face him.

  “Please don’t take off the frequency adjuster.”

  I nod curtly.

  ♦

  “But why didn’t you say anything?” Samara questions at once, her whitish blonde hair lining her shoulders like a veil.

  “What was I supposed to say?” George pokes at his green beans. “‘Roya’s making me delusional.’ It didn’t seem right. I wasn’t even certain it was Roya at first, but then every time she’d get near me the intensity in my head would become overwhelming, like it was about to explode. Fortunately Shuman figured it out and Aiden found a solution.”

  “So as long as Stark wears that little box thingy then you’re fine? What happens if she takes it off?” Joseph asks, looking skeptical.

  George sighs. “It’s unbearable. I hear loud vibrating noises, my senses go into overdrive, and I can’t pick up on the slightest emotional tone. All I feel is her and it’s overpowering.”

  I stare at my brussels sprouts, knowing George and everyone at the table are focused on me. I’m the “her” who overpowers him, who puts him into a state of torment. Guilt scratches my skin like a Brillo pad.

  George continues, “As soon as that necklace fired up the noise went away. I could feel emotions again.”

  “But it’s only when Stark is around, right? So when she’s absent, can you sense and feel again?” Joseph questions.

  “Yes and no,” George says, toggling his head back and forth. “This started a few minutes before Roya arrived in the auditorium on that first day. The closer she was to me the worse it got. I did get a bit of relief if she was farther away.” He turns to me, his expression composed, although the pain he’s harbored all this time still edges below the surface. “However, even if you’re on the first level and I’m on the fifth I still get interference.”

  I catch Joseph eyeing George intently. He, like me, seems stunned by how George has transformed in the last hour. Joseph’s eyes probe George, looking for an answer to this impossible riddle.

  “It was luck Roya and I weren’t in the same
group in the beginning. I was able to perform well enough to make the alternate team.”

  Luck? Like he was fortunate? He’s first alternate now. If something happens to me then he’ll take my place and die. Is that luck?

  George rubs his temples and then continues. “Although I felt the interference all along, it hadn’t been as excruciating until Trey called me up during the ceremony and I stood next to you on that stage.” George stares at me, looking apologetic and contrite. “From that point forward I thought I was going insane. Every meeting, training, practice, I was lost in this engulfing clashing of metal. It was awful.” His head sags. We all stare at each other around the table, lost for words. None of us know how to relate. Any words I offer are only to console my own discomfort. We all remain silent until George pulls his head back up. He focuses on me with solemn eyes. “I didn’t know how to react or overcome the torture in my head. I apologize for treating you poorly.”

  Goose bumps rise to the surface of my skin. I try to suppress them, but they won’t allow it. How’s it possible that I have this effect on someone?

  “Don’t guilt yourself,” George says with a deep expression.

  That’s unfair. He can read me now. I bite my lip. “It’s….” I hesitate, the audience around me hanging on my words, wondering how I’ll respond. “It’s just a lot to absorb.”

  He leans forward and says, “Let’s put the past behind us now. We’re a team. And I want to help.” He looks directly at me, awaiting my answer.

  I steal a glance at the others, who are looking at us with interest. It’s like they’re sitting front row, center stage at the best show in town, their mouths gaping open and brows furrowed. I turn back to George and offer him a gentle nod. I know he doesn’t need any more.