Revived

by Sarah Noffke

  They’re now both residents of the Institute. It’s my hope that they stay here long-term. I recognize there’s a long road we must face in order to repair the distrust my secrecy has caused. My decisions may never be understood, but please know these choices were made to protect the Lucidite people, as well as my children.

  Lastly, I’m more than proud that they have been instrumental in deteriorating Zhuang and rescuing the Head Scientist for the Institute. Although I can take zero credit for the accomplishments of these two people, I’m still proud to say I’m their father.

  Trey Underwood,

  Head of the Lucidite Institute

  The knot in my throat has grown larger as I read. I’m thoroughly glad when the statement is over. I take a long sip of water, hoping that will loosen the constriction.

  “Glad to know he didn’t mention I restored Zhuang to full strength,” Joseph says, still pacing.

  “No one needs to know about that,” I say. “I bet only the Head Officials know.”

  And George.

  “That would be nice.”

  “It’s hard to know what’s real in this statement and what he’s saying in order to repair his reputation,” I say, tossing the iPad on the bed.

  “Honestly, for him, he sounds down right sentimental,” Joseph huffs, taking a seat.

  “Yeah, what’s this business about being proud to be our father? He didn’t say anything remotely close to that in his office.”

  “Well, there was kind of a lot goin’ on right then, if you remember correctly.” Joseph rubs his eyes as he speaks.

  “I remember.”

  “Maybe he really will try to earn our trust.” Joseph gives me a misty-eyed expression.

  I roll my eyes and let out an abrupt laugh. “Oh, who cares? Do you really think he’s going to take us for ice cream on the weekends in hopes that we’ll have some functional relationship? Don’t you get it? Trey is the head of the Institute. Before that he was second-in-command to his father. He never had any interest in having children. We’re a burden.” I point at the iPad. “That was just some cleverly written crap in order to cover his ass. He’s a politician fighting to maintain his power over the people. That’s all.”

  “I think you’re being kind of cynical,” Joseph says bitterly.

  “Don’t delude yourself, Jordan.” I laugh. “How did I never know your last name before now?”

  Joseph doesn’t laugh. He slouches, like his shoulders suddenly weigh a ton. “You don’t pay attention.”

  “Well, I pay attention enough to know that Trey is playing a political game and we’re just pawns.” I give Joseph a long, hard look––dissecting him. “Don’t be misled. He doesn’t really care about us.”

  With a shrug he looks at the door. “We’ll see.”

  I worry that Joseph is holding on to some fantasy about Trey being a good father to us, but I shouldn’t push him right now. He’s had a rough day. I don’t really feel like lecturing him anymore at the moment. He’s looking a little better than this morning, although he skipped meals and tormented himself for most of the day over killing our grandfather. I wish he could get the same kind of therapy that Samara received after she killed Pearl. It appeared to really have helped her to process the events and her emotions. However, Joseph and I can never tell anyone else what happened. There’s way too much blame on Joseph at the current moment and it all needs to be deflected somehow. If he can just get a break, he might have a chance to rise up from this darkness, because more than anyone I know Joseph is a pure optimist. He makes the best of everything, even a childhood of abuse and neglect.

  “Hey, will you dream travel with me tonight?” I ask, recapturing his lost attention.

  “Yeah, sure,” he says automatically. “Where you wanna go?”

  “Hmmm…” I think for a minute. “How about Glasgow?”

  “Scotland?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I haven’t been there yet. Sure. What’s it known for?”

  “Rain,” I say with a smile.

  “Hell, if it has weather period I’ll take it. I, for one, get pretty tired of stainless steel walls,” Joseph says, sounding uncharacteristically annoyed.

  “I’m with you.”

  I pull my iPad off the bed and find an interesting place to meet. We decide on a time and I leave Joseph to sulk and process, which is the best thing for him at this point. It’s decided that we won’t news report today. Shuman will probably figure that with the public statement being released we decided to take the day off. She can fire us, but that’s about as likely as her breaking into a scene from Footloose.

  ♦

  Mossy air wraps around my body, giving me a sudden chill. The smell of wet grass springs up from the earth, instantly sending me back to my childhood. As soon as I land in the Necropolis in Glasgow, Scotland, I realize my mistake. This place is huge. Acres and acres of nothing but tombs. We should have picked a specific monument to meet by, instead of just the property in general. It could take all night to find Joseph.

  An unknown fear creeps into my stomach as the rays of morning sunlight start to rise over the memorials in the distance, creating shadows on the glossy grass. The tombstones in this place are no joke. I look up at a rather large one and instantly feel like a doll standing beside a gigantic house. The stone statue, with its ornate details and engraved words, is at least thirty-five feet tall. These are no ordinary headstones like I’m accustomed to in the States. Poetry strikes my heart, thinking about how this culture makes tribute to their dead in such an incredibly expressive way.

  My curious thoughts are interrupted by a small wind. It’s slight, like when something gradually displaces cold air. It’s followed by a rustling of fabric. Not for one second do I delude myself into believing it’s Joseph. I know it’s him, recognize his presence like it’s engrained in my soul. Swiftly I turn on my heels and hide my shock as I stand face to face with Chase. An icy, almost debilitating shiver shoots down my spine.

  Chapter Nine

  He’s a foot away. I’m paralyzed. The sun shines behind him, casting a light on his frame but leaving his face in darkness. My eyes focus on the small particles of sunlight around me and his features become clear. Just as I remember from the Grotte, he’s unbelievably beautiful. So perfect it hurts. Makes me want to fall to my knees and worship the unfathomable man who stands before me. He eyes me with sensual desire. Instantly I pulse with the same desire. I know this is wrong, but I don’t care. Nothing matters but what comes next. And the idea that something’s coming next sends me into a torrent of unrelenting anticipation.

  Blue morning sky contrasts against his soft, white skin and slick, black hair. The green grass behind him frames his muscular build making it more pronounced. Although I know I should run, I only stare into his electric blue eyes as they pull me in, like he’s reeling me in on a taut fishing line. Chase has a godly grace. It’s not something to think much about until you’re under its control. And like falling into a rabbit hole, I’m engulfed in his spell. I awake to a place where I live in a universe of him. And it feels like enough to sustain me always.

  Chase’s closeness to me is alarming, but I don’t make the slightest move as I watch his eyes bore into mine. Only an inch away, his presence wraps around me like tendrils and yanks at my reason until it relinquishes its stubbornness. “I wouldn’t hesitate to maim and kill every last person on this earth,” he says, his words gripping my skin like an astringent. “But never, would I ever harm you.” His lips whisper against my ear. I freeze, more solid than before. “You know that, right? I’m not here to hurt you…just the opposite.” His mouth, cold as marble, slides down my cheek. I feel his icy breath the entire way. He looks into my eyes and then grazes his lips against mine, but I remain concrete. I don’t pull away or give in. He eases back a few inches. “I don’t know why you are resisting,” he says, articulating every word.

  I know why I’m resisting, although it’s a poor job. It’s harder this time than in
the Grotte, like I’ve lost a survival instinct. In the distant corner of my brain, I remember Chase has an emotional modifier he’s using to make me want him, love him. And in the forefront of my heart I’m steps away from not giving a damn. I’m a leap away from declaring my unyielding desire for him. Professing my love.

  No! I don’t love him. This is wrong. A manipulation of my emotions. Back away. Run!

  I move my hand. It works just fine as I squeeze my fingers together. Now move. But I don’t. I remain frozen, like a stupid block of ice.

  “It’s not a trick. It’s called desire,” he whispers inches from my lips. “That’s why you’re still here.” He glides his firm, pink lips up and down my chin. I don’t just allow it. I relish it. “Desire trumps reason and logic,” he says, as he smoothly sinks down to my neck and his cool breath wisps against my flesh. “You should follow it. Follow your desire. Forget your logic.”

  His nose and mouth skim up my neck, over the curvature of my chin, until he captures me beneath his stare. His blue eyes electrify me from the inside out. Suddenly I’m hit by an extremely sensual and dangerous thought: I’m his slave. And there’s nothing I want more than that role. Willingly, I’ll put on the shackles and do whatever he beckons…with a smile.

  Commanding me with his movements, his insistent demeanor, his power, he sinks down and kisses me. My lips remain unmoving, like before. Again his lips brush mine, persistent. Enticing. Each time his mouth encourages against mine, I lose the connection to the presence fumbling with my shackles. And in a breath she’s dead to me and I’m a brand new person moving my lips against his, reciprocating. Chase backs me up two steps until I’m flush up against a monument. The stone is warm compared to his hands. His teeth scrape my lips, unleashing a primal urge. An animalistic desire releases within me. I kiss him harder with each passing second, an overwhelming passion intoxicates me.

  Chase eases back, his long black eyelashes parting to reveal a satisfied gaze. His fingers direct my chin to the side and obediently I keep it there awaiting his next move. A finger slides down my neck stopping just under my collar bone. His mouth follows the same path, stopping, hovering at the base of my throat. “How does this feel?” he whispers.

  Someone speaks using my mouth, my voice. “Amazing.”

  In one swift movement he angles my chin forward again, bringing his face even with mine. “Just imagine how much better it would feel in our physical bodies,” he says with a wicked grin. My chest heaves in anticipation of his next move. Gracefully he dips down, kissing me again. Voracious fingers bury into his dark suit. Finding the lapels of his jacket I use them to draw him in closer––although he’ll never be close enough to satisfy my desire. Greedily my hands sweep underneath his suit jacket, grazing his silk shirt, detailing his muscles. I need to feel more of him, to know his body more intimately than I know my own. Become a part of Chase. Give him everything I have even if it kills me. It will be worth it.

  A distant part of me finds it hard to believe that I’m making out with Chase, the psychopath, the murderer. However, I don’t care. The only thing I care about is getting to the other end of this seemingly unending desire. One of his hands tugs my hips forward. The other tangles in my hair, ensuring I stay pinned into him, making me his willing prisoner. I’ve never been this close to anyone. But it still isn’t enough for me.

  He breaks away and abruptly pushes me back. Instantly I lunge, doing everything I can to get back to him, wanting him and not feeling satisfied. Holding both my arms, keeping me at arm’s length, he smiles. “Well, hello, Joseph,” he says, still fixed on my hungry gaze.

  Chase turns, keeping me caged behind his back.

  “Get away from her,” Joseph says with a protective snarl.

  “She’s perfectly fine,” Chase sings casually. “I dare say she’s never felt so good.”

  “Leave,” Joseph says. I can’t see his face. A weird part of me, buried deep, doesn’t want to. Senses he finds what I’ve done distasteful. And strangely…I think he’s right.

  “Well, you really know how to spoil a perfectly good time.” Chase pivots, putting his mouth next to mine again. Without meaning to my lips quiver in desire for his. “I won’t hurt him. Not as long as you reciprocate my affections as you have so obediently just done, mon amour.” He kisses me once, softly. So perfectly, it gracefully unravels my essence like a spell. “Au revoir,” he whispers and disappears.

  Slowly my vision refines until I’m focused on Joseph fifteen feet away. Unable to look directly at him I stare at the ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right,” I say, before retreating to my cold and lonely bed.

  Chapter Ten

  Once my consciousness is back in the safety of the Institute, the haze slowly falls away, allowing my rational thoughts to surface again. Like waking from a bad dream, my eyes search the darkness for predators as my blood hammers through my veins. But it wasn’t a dream. Simultaneously I shift from shivering with disgust for what I’ve just done and panting, wanting more.

  This is the emotional modifier’s doing. On the positive side, its effects feel weakened now that Chase isn’t in close proximity. On the negative side, it’s been perfected and I’m almost certain next time I won’t be able to resist him for even a second.

  Over and over I replay the events in the Necropolis. I’m his slave. Even now the words don’t entirely sound wrong in my head. Rationally speaking I know that being attracted to Chase is utterly ridiculous. Makes zero sense. Emotionally speaking, I’m more in love with him than I ever thought my heart had the capacity for.

  My logical side forces me to practice the strategy George taught me. I focus on my heart, thinking of my emotions for Chase, recording them with great detail. Then I do the same, thinking about Joseph. Before, the differences were obvious, like comparing artificial light and sunlight. If I can trust my heart, I swear it’s just broken from disappointment. My love for Chase is an unwavering beam of sunshine, brighter than all the bulbs in all the world and inextinguishable.

  The only saving grace is that my brain knows this is wrong, but that’s of little hope. There are those more resilient and fortified with greater motivations who have failed in the face of logic, been scorned by their heart’s desires. Great warriors have died for their passions, sacrificed their own well-being for lust and pleasure. How do I stand a chance of battling this? At resisting Chase?

  If I could go for a long run right now I would. For a second I consider it, not caring if I rip back open the bullet wound Amber gave me. But Mae spent so much energy healing me, after everything she’s been through––losing Pearl––I can’t take her efforts for granted. Just a few more days, she promises, and I’ll be able to work out. Hitting a punching bag right now would definitely take some of the crazy out of my being. Instead I settle for Tao Te Ching. I’m not hoping for enlightenment, as much as answers. Ancient Chinese wisdom feels like the perfect place to look at the moment. If this doesn’t work I’ll try some pop psychology.

  Maybe what happened in last night’s dream travel wasn’t real. Maybe I fell asleep before dreaming. Maybe Chase only visited me in my dreams, like before. Because it’s impossible that even if he has improved the emotional modifier he could entice me to act so seductively, thrusting myself into him—all but tearing his clothes off. Yes, that makes more sense. It’s the answer I’ve been looking for. Chase might make me love him, but he can’t make me act on those emotions, right? That’s still up to me.

  Patrick’s familiar knock startles me. The sun hasn’t even risen over the ocean that separates the Institute and the real world. I get up from my safe place surrounded by bed sheets and march to the door on autopilot. I should just ignore the knock, pretend I don’t hear it. Sometimes my nature, ruled by customs, irks me. The door slides back revealing a droopy-eyed Patrick. “Only you would get a meeting request at this hour.”

  Oh shit. It wasn’t a dream.

  I gulp, taking the note from Patrick. “Thanks,” I say, unable to even
feign our usual banter right now. He trots away sluggishly, no doubt off to return to his dream travels.

  I unfold the note, my hands already shaking.

  Roya,

  Report to Room 222 immediately.

  Trey

  Well, I knew he was known for brevity, but you’d think his own daughter could earn a formal closing. Apparently, it’s too early for such formalities.

  I consider curling up in my bed and ignoring the request. But I know whatever I have to face is better done using courage. I’m not going to hide like I’m humiliated of what’s forsaken me without my ability to control it. I won’t be shamed. Not this time.

  ♦

  Trey hovers just beside the entrance when the door to room 222 slides into the recess. “Thank you for joining us so quickly, Roya,” he says, stepping back, revealing Aiden and Ren sitting slouched at the table.

  Oh shit.

  I’m going to need more than just courage to get through this. Aiden’s hair is matted to his head in what I believe is actually bedhead and not his usual crazy ’do. Ren’s wearing a crumpled button-up shirt and an indignant expression.

  Trey takes a seat beside the two officials, gesturing that I should take the one opposite of them. “I’m sorry to call on you so early, but I also figured you weren’t sleeping,” Trey says, spreading his hands on the table.

  Ren suppresses a grin that begs to be slapped. Aiden’s face is slack, devoid of emotion. All three of them have red, puffy eyes and look dangerously close to needing coffee.