Blood Awakens

by Jessaca Willis

  “I understand why though. I worried about Santiago a lot while we traveled, and if anything would’ve happened to him…I don’t know what I would’ve done. As a sibling, you have to be protective of one another. Especially now.”

  “Yes, especially now.” It was hard not to notice the hard lump slide down Mara’s throat. “But there is a difference between being protective and smothering. Surely you give your brother room to make mistakes and grow when the time is right. You don’t confine him behind walls and expect him to be safe for the rest of his time. You wouldn’t want that for him. You’d want him to experience everything that the world has to offer.”

  Graciela nodded and gave a noncommittal murmur. Something told her they were no longer talking about her brother, but whom, she didn’t yet know. Besides, Santiago did want her to live. He just worried, and she could hardly blame him for it. She had no power and couldn’t even fight. That was why she started taking lessons with Mara. Maybe if she trained she could prove to him that she could take care of herself. However, the lessons weren’t proving very fruitful.

  But hadn’t she taken care of both of them for months, saved them from the clutches of the Sanguinatores and sacrificed herself to shelter her brother when they were attacked just before Sean and Mara intervened?

  On second thought, maybe neither of those instances were prime examples of her being able to successfully protect herself, considering both almost got her killed.

  “You think you can help me? Train me to become a better fighter?” Through squinted eyes, Graciela addressed Mara. For a second, she noticed a glimmer in her new friend’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before, a shimmery depth that could swallow anyone.

  “My dear Graciela, when I’m done with you, you’ll be the second-best fighter in Hope. After me, of course.”

  They shared a grin, Mara’s devious, Graciela’s bringing pink to her cheeks.

  “Per tutto, c'è un motivo,” Mara declared.

  “Hmm?”

  “Nothing. I believe I just discovered the reason our paths crossed. Come. I brought you here for more reasons than just morning cardio and a stunning view. I hope you brought some comfortable shoes because you are about to see how akin fighting is to dancing. But I meant what I said yesterday: no one will hear of this. Understood?”

  Before too much silence could build, Graciela confirmed her understanding with an eager nod. She wouldn’t dream of sharing any of this with anyone, aside from the journal she would write in later that night. As far as she was concerned, the entire morning would be their little secret, the true foundation of any real friendship.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sean

  “FLATHEAD REPORTS,” The robotic tone of Sean’s ulipsi blurted. Behind the glass, something flashed like a luminescent bulb. A swirl of cream and lavender shifted in his palm, into the face of a woman, an Awakened Authority official named Hotaru.

  Her condescending voice followed. “There’s movement from a large group of the Proselytes of Niha. Attacks on Awakened in all three Unions have doubled. Provisions and reinforcements will be dispatched to those most at risk.”

  Without another word—no promise of safety or formal goodbye—the screen went blank. Message ended.

  “Would it kill her to sound like she even cares?” Furious, the mirror slammed tightly in Sean’s fist. “I wonder how at risk you have to be to receive backup and provisions? Wouldn’t want to wind up like—” Images of Surviving & Thriving cut his words short. He couldn’t bring himself to mention their fate with such contempt, even if it was in their defense.

  Neither Amal nor Mara argued, instead allowing Sean the space he needed to vent, in privacy, away from the eyes always looking to him for guidance and leadership.

  He gave his head a solid shake.

  Amal took it as a sign that he was composed. “They’re getting closer. Do you think it’s intentional?”

  “Intentional? You think they might be coming for us?” Mara seemed to consider.

  Bowing her head, the aquamarine chiffon wrapped around Amal’s head gently brushed the table the three of them sat around. “It’s possible. We are the largest community of Awakened in the area. What would you do if you believed that all that stood between you and utopia were the lives of the Awakened? All you had to do was rid them from the Earth and that eternal peace would be yours.”

  Blood thrashed inside him. “I wouldn’t kill people just for being different. And I’d ditch any Gods who told me otherwise.”

  Mara examined the last few entries of the international log quietly while Sean skimmed the local one.

  A singular entry halted his train of thought. “More bloodshed in the unsanctioned communities… reminiscent of Surviving & Thriving from the sounds of it.”

  Amal bowed her head in silence.

  Sean’s fists clenched. First, because he thought of the many ways in which the Awakened Authority failed the people they purportedly vowed to protect, but then because he had connected the dots of who was behind the attacks. Sanguinatores.

  Not once did Mara’s eyes leave the page, skimming farther for more terrible news.

  Almost so subtly Sean nearly missed it, Mara’s throat bobbed. “Another sanctuary has fallen…” Before Sean could ask, Mara said, “México Seguro. It was a massacre. Dozens of bodies but no blood.”

  Nails cut deeper into his palms, and Sean slammed both fists into the rickety wooden table. Notebooks shifted from the impact, and Amal’s cup tipped abruptly, splattering the three of them.

  Those bloodthirsty, murderous cannibals should’ve been stopped. Sean and Mara and the rest of them should’ve done something when they’d had the opportunity.

  Then again, Sean wasn’t so certain they had stood a chance. Not against thirty of them. Awakened or not, thirty versus seven weren’t great odds. Only large numbers could take a group that size, and he knew exactly who had those. “Where’s the Awakened Authority in all of this?” he raged.

  Neither of his partners could answer him.

  “Seriously!” he roared, head tingling from the lack of oxygen that such force stripped from him. “What exactly do they do for us if they refuse to protect us?”

  “To be fair,” Mara said. “The Awakened Authority does plenty for us. It’s the unaligned sanctuaries that they ignore.”

  “Which is why it’s a good thing we accepted their terms,” Amal added, hands folded calmly in her lap.

  Grumbling, Sean squeezed the back of his neck, an attempt at massaging peace back into his mind. It didn’t help. All he could think about was the ulterior motives of the Awakened Authority. It seemed as though they were only there when they wanted to be, only when it benefited them. Sean understood them better than they thought he did. They protected the numbers because that was all that mattered in the event of a final battle, Awakened versus Unawakened.

  It was Mara who broke the silence, never wary of stating her opinion, or rather, her next choice of action. “Regardless, I’m requesting reinforcements. If Amal is correct, and the trajectory of the Proselytes of Niha is in fact in alignment with our location, having extra forces wouldn’t hurt.”

  He had half the mind to tell her not to, but that wasn’t the way he led. Mara was in charge of their defenses for a reason. Besides, why else did they join the Awakened Authority’s alliance if not to reap the benefits?

  “Fine,” he conceded. “But if there’s a catch, you come to me before accepting terms.”

  “Of course.”

  Mara sent the request. When the response finally came, it was of no surprise to Sean that they were denied extra forces.

  “At this time, we are without a doubt that Hope is under no immediate threat and thereby deny the request for deployment of Proper Sentients for defense. We thank you for expressing your concern on behalf of other formed communities throughout the Unions. The Awakened Authority is making exceptional efforts to solidify agreements between all unhostile communities and will continue to—”
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  There was no need to let the message continue further. Their justifications were always the same.

  For this reason, it was Sean’s duty alone to ensure the safety of his people. He’d follow Mara’s lead on double training regiments and defense posts until they could get better intel on the impending threats.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Santiago

  Carefully, Santiago twisted the insert—earring, or whatever it was called—that clung to his ear. If he tugged just slightly, it would break free, and he’d be forced to withstand everyone’s emotions, whatever they might be. Every time he’d taken it out, let his power come back, it felt a little stranger to him, like his empathic side was no longer part of him, no longer him.

  It was the greatest feeling in the world.

  And as long as the insert remained, he’d feel that way forever.

  The motion of twisting the earring left and right was surprisingly soothing. On a number of occasions, he’d felt himself drift into a daydream, never deep enough to find Mara though.

  Today, during his fourth session with the Unawakened Learning Intensive Project—TULIP, Sean had called it for short—Santiago found himself dozing again. Fortunately, he caught his head a fraction of a hair before it collided with the back of his chair. Admittedly, at first, Santiago had been skeptical of TULIP’s existence. Since it had been given as an off-handed option when Santiago shot down the idea of being a jailor, he had just assumed it was a dishonest attempt at lulling him into a false sense of comfort. As if Sean wanted to make him believe something like that existed, long enough to try to take another stab at convincing Santiago to become their jailor.

  What could he say? He had trust issues, something else he and Mara had in common.

  So, when Sean had introduced him to one of the instructors and hadn’t mentioned the jail since, Santiago found himself feeling sheepish.

  “Understood?” Without pausing, Savina, their posh teacher, gave a brusque nod. “Excellent. Then grab a partner and begin practicing. Try to last longer than you did during yesterday’s session.”

  Santiago examined the room of the five additional Awakened who were equally as miserable with their new identities as he was. It was a diverse assortment of people if he ever did see one. Aside from himself and a listener in the group, the rest were a variety of the poisonous Awakened: a couple anura, a cubozoa.

  Even though it was only his fourth day, he already knew who his partner would be. He eagerly turned to the sun-spotted, middle-aged man beside him and asked, “Well Diesel, do you want to try it first, or should I?”

  Diesel had been a sergeant at the base at the start of the Awakening, and when Berkeley had been attacked, it was his partner and son who had accompanied Mara and the others to Hope. From what Santiago could gather, it wasn’t so much that Diesel disliked being Awakened, he just wanted to learn how to control his ability so that he could be intimate with his family again.

  Crossing his arms—both covered in a pattern of tree-root scars, an assured sign of a cubozoa—the hulking man grumbled. “Let’s see what you got.”

  Santiago swallowed hard. It had only been a few days since he’d started attending TULIP, but he still had yet to find success during any of the drills the teacher walked them through.

  “All right—” Santiago inhaled deep with uncertainty. “Try not to hit me so hard this time.”

  “What kind of talk is that? Do it right and you won’t get your ass handed to you.”

  To anyone else, this might’ve sounded harsh. But to Santiago, the older man was reminiscent of his own strict father, so he knew it came from a supportive place.

  Santiago rolled his eyes, just as he would’ve done to his father.

  “I heard that,” Diesel growled, making Santiago straighten in his chair.

  It was just tough love, and that he could handle. Maybe tough love was what he had needed all this time. Not that he was wasn’t grateful for all that his caring and generous sister had done for him, but it was no secret that she was a softy, a coddler. When his affliction had surfaced, his father had discarded Santiago, leaving him with no stern force of influence to help him navigate becoming Unawakened again. So maybe strict and harsh was exactly what he needed.

  Santiago pulsed his flexed fists before shoving all the air from his lungs a second time. “Okay, here goes.”

  Not wasting another second to psyche himself out, he pulled the insert from his ear and let the swell of emotions crash into him. Even for being in a room of only seven other people including the teacher, two kilometers outside of the sanctuary, the sensations that barreled through him were staggering. Pain tore at his abdomen and pierced up into his chest. Like lava searing his back, each vertebrae felt as if it were disintegrating. Within seconds, he was panting, and his vision had blurred.

  Without warning, Santiago was struck by the sharp sting of a hand smacking his cheek.

  Through blurred eyes, he met Diesel’s disapproving, but encouraging face. “Again.”

  Aversion therapy, Savina had said on the first day, was a type of brain conditioning. It was designed to cause the patient to associate specific stimulus with unpleasant sensations, thereby curing them of whatever ailment. In this case, it was being used to help people learn how to ignore their Awakened side, operating from the assumption that utilizing those abilities was a choice.

  Santiago wasn’t sure that in his case it was much of a choice, but he found himself trying desperately anyway. What else did he have to lose?

  Because he believed he could focus better without distraction, Santiago closed his eyes and listened to the gnawing of his muscles. They grew weary rapidly under the demand of everyone else’s plights. It wasn’t fair for them to become his burden, he reminded himself, letting rage become his beacon.

  “Don’t give in to temptation, Mr. Ortiz,” her shrill voice urged on his anger. “We are better than that tainted form of ourselves. We can be cleansed and free again. You just have to want it enough.”

  He did want it. Probably more than anyone else there. Normality, his old way of living, was all he really wanted. Santiago gritted his teeth, straining to shut out the demon within him.

  Go away, go away.

  “Go away!” he shouted, likely drawing the judgmental glares of everyone else in the room, but he didn’t bother to look. As the breath escaped him, he willed away his Awakened connection with every ounce he had. The demand came from deeper than his lungs, past his heart; it came from his very soul.

  There was no energy left by the time his breaths regained routine. Dizzy from exertion, he half expected, half hoped it had worked, that he’d been able to scare away the emotions that had been encumbering him.

  To his dismay however, they remained, incessant growths sucking the life from him like pathetic leeches.

  Too exhausted to continue, Santiago dropped from his chair to his hands and knees.

  “You must pass his punishment,” Savina commanded, addressing Diesel.

  Santiago braced himself for the impact that he deserved. If only he were a better student or had greater will power. Maybe he didn’t want it as badly as he thought?

  When a few seconds had passed and Diesel still hadn’t hit him, Santiago blinked an eye open gingerly.

  Savina, the exposed metal of her heel tapping impatiently on the vinyl tile with a reverberant click, enunciated her order again. “Strike. Him.”

  Diesel became the embodiment of a brick wall. “He’s a kid.”

  Santiago didn’t have to look up to feel the heat of Savina’s glare.

  “Kid or not, either he wants it or he doesn’t, and either you want to follow the rules, or you don’t,” she barked at the ex-marine.

  Despite Diesel’s military past, Santiago found himself more intimidated by their teacher. She had the kind of pointed facial structure that vaguely reminded him of a knife, with eyes that cut just as deep.

  “Diesel, it’s fine,” Santiago said, shrinking between the t
wo of them. “I know the rules. I didn’t stop my power like I was supposed to. I deserve it.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re not some pup being potty-trained. You’re a person.”

  When the man rose, his alarming size was all the more apparent next to the woman’s lanky frame. His muscles still retained memory of their active duty days, rigid from years of training and performance.

  One finger pointed directly between Savina’s eyes, and a yellow shimmer of a spark sizzled at the tip. One wrong move and she’d be sent flying across the room.

  But Diesel knew better. Though he didn’t have complete control of his power, he knew when to launch it and when to keep it locked in. With two calming breaths, he directed his finger back down to his side. “I came here because I needed help—we all did—but what you’re doing isn’t helping. You can’t beat the Awakened out of us. It don’t work that way. And I’m done with your methods.”

  Without another word, Diesel walked out the one-room building.

  Ever so slowly, Savina, face as red as a beet, turned to Santiago with a low snarl.

  With great effort, he shoved the earring back into his ear and rose to his feet, shoulders slouched with no ounce of pride left. He already knew what was about to come next.

  “You can leave my classroom too. Three-day suspension. Only return if you re-evaluate your priorities and decide you’re willing to put in the effort necessary to become Unawakened.” With a twist of her wrist she added uncouthly, “You’re dismissed.”

  There was no point in arguing—not that he’d want to stay after that incident anyway. Besides, who would he be paired with now? All the other students had partners, so he’d likely be stuck with her. Given that she clearly wasn’t in the mood for him anymore, he figured it best for everyone that he left.

  As Santiago exited the building to chase after his partner, his attention was directed elsewhere.

  “How’s that training goin?”

  Santiago spun around to face Carson, leaning against the building.