by C. B. Stone
All I do know is that my world has been shattered, my sister is dead, and the man… I shake my head, hard, trying to erase the picture of Wisdom from my mind. But all I see when he’s gone is the image of my sister, her throat slit and blood covering our kitchen floor. The kitchen floor we’d chosen tile for together, back when we first bought the place.
We’d had the best time fixing that tiny apartment up. I squeeze my eyes shut. They feel swollen and burn from all the tears I’ve cried in the last few hours, but I cling to the happy memory for as long as it lets me. It’s gone too soon though, and reality intrudes once more. I pace the small back room of the small dive bar I met Wisdom at, the only place I could think of to go. I know the owner pretty well, and even though we aren’t real ‘buddy buddy’, I knew he’d let me hang out and get my head together, at least for awhile. I scrub a hand through my hair, my mind churning.
I pull the bright green little notebook out of my back pocket, staring at the words scrawled unevenly across the front page.
Wisdom. Jameson. Same person.
A shuddering sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it back. I was right. I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t dreaming or making it up. Jameson is Wisdom, my Wisdom.
And he’s the reason my sister was murdered.
Emotions surge through me, so forcefully I barely recognize myself. I want to scream and scream and never stop. I want to kick something, to break things, to punch the walls, but I resist. Another image forms in my mind of Sierra, lying on the floor and gone forever. I stop pacing and crumple to the ground in the middle of the room, my knees landing with a soft thud on the hard carpet.
I don’t feel the minor ache, my heart aches more than enough. There are no more tears though, only anger. I hunch over, resting my forehead on the floor, ignoring the smell of old cigarette smoke embedded in the carpet. I don’t even care. I suck in a jagged breath, and pound my fists onto the floor, trying to release some of the feelings building inside of me. Though my mouth remains closed, my mind shouts out my sister’s name.
The pictures on the wall rattle, jolting my eyes open. I shove myself up off the floor, gaining my feet and looking around the room. What the heck? What’s going on? The rattling stops, but my heart doesn’t slow it’s thunderous beat. I can hear it pulsing in my ear drums.
There’s a light tap on the door, and my gaze flies to the handle. I take a step back. “What? Who is it?” My voice is ragged, raw with emotion.
I take another step back, just as the door opens. My eyes widen as Jameson slips through, quickly shutting the door behind him. He’s in his characteristic leather jacket and dark jeans, but his face looks pale. Almost hollow. He starts to take a step toward me.
“Stop.” I throw up my hands, palms toward him, as if doing that could ward him off.
He listens though, freezing, as if rendered immobile by some unseen force. His eyes are dark, more gunmetal in color than silvery blue this time, and his expression is troubled, worried. “Aria.”
The sound of my name on his traitorous lips rips like fire through me, kindling my fear and rage simmering just below the surface. My eyes narrow, and I spit the words out. “How dare you come here. First you lie to me, making me think I’m crazy, then you try to get close to me again, making me think…” I shake my head furiously, stopping myself from saying things I don’t even fully understand. Yet. Another sob rises up, almost strangling me. “And then you have my sister murdered. Her throat slit like an animal. You’re working with the freaking Gov, I know it! I should kill you right now.”
I reach behind me and pull out the gun I’d tucked into the back of my pants before I left my apartment. Just to be safe. It’s my sister’s gun, but I knew where she kept it. Hands shaking, I lift it, aiming it at his head, trying to steady it. My breath comes in short gasps and the tears are back, blurring my vision. “Why?” My voice is a choked whisper as I stare at him.
I want so badly to pull the trigger, but I can’t.
Chapter 20
JAMESON
I gaze back at her bleakly, unable to move. She has a gun trained on me, though I can tell she’s not used to handling one, and emotions are taking their toll on her. I try moving again, confused. It’s like I’m frozen in place, held still by some kind of invisible force. I can’t even open my mouth to speak.
The answer hits me like a ton of bricks.
She’s telekinetic.
You’re such an idiot, J. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. This is why the Gov is so keen to find her. She’s got more power than I’d originally thought.
I try to speak again, but she won’t let me. Whatever she’s doing has even my vocal chords frozen, like she doesn’t want me to talk.
“You’re a murderer!” She shouts the words and I feel them echo down to my core.
I close my eyes, the one thing that doesn’t seem to be frozen, and use the only thing I can think of to try to reach her.
That’s not true. It wasn’t me. I swear, Aria.
I repeat this thought again and again, hoping to break through some of her defenses, using my own special abilities to do it. I open my eyes, reciting the words once more.
She wobbles on her feet, her brow furrowing. She shakes her head, as though to clear it, and I repeat it again. Silently still, but more forcefully this time, That’s not true. It wasn’t me. I swear, Aria.
All I can do is pray my words are reaching her, as I picture them echoing and reverberating through the corners of her mind. It must be working. Even though I’m still held captive, she brings her hands and the gun to her head, confusion on her face.
“What is this? Make it stop. I—I can’t…”
I stop immediately, and her tear-filled gaze meets mine.
ARIA
I take a step closer, confusion, pain, fear, and rage a toxic elixir. He’s not moving. He hasn’t moved a muscle since he walked in. I frown. I don’t know why he hasn’t tried to take the gun from me. He’s certainly more than capable, especially if he’s Gov. I sniffle, the thought like a knife through my heart. My lip curls. Gov. There’s no way I can let him live.
I inhale a shuddering breath, and bring the gun back up, aiming at his forehead once more. Hatred coils around my heart and I let it sink in and take root. He killed Sierra. Or got her killed. He’s a murderer and he deserves to die.
My finger finds the trigger, a small whimper escaping my lips. I press them together, blinking away my tears.
I won’t hurt you.
Words drop into my mind again, but different this time. Not like before. Not in some kind of echoing pattern of frantic chaos. This time the words are gentle. Soft. My breath hitches, and I swallow another whimper, closing my eyes.
I’m transported back in time, back to Wisdom’s hot breath whispering against my bare shoulder, in this very bar. His hand in mine and his gaze drinking me in. Swallowing me whole. My beautiful Wisdom. Only he’s not my Wisdom. Not anymore, if he ever really was.
I open my eyes and he’s looking at me. Looking at me with those very same eyes that I knew instantly, the moment I saw them again. My heart tripping over itself, I know then what I have to do.
I step closer and, before I have time to think, before he can protest, I slam the gun against his temple, as hard as my strength allows. He drops to the floor, unconscious. I sigh heavily, shoving the gun back into my waistband, and fluffing out my baggy t-shirt to hide it.
I grab my keys and the little green notebook, the tears that can’t seem to stop leaking from my lids finally slowing. When I step over his slumped figure, I glance down and pause. All I can see is a man I somehow fell in love with, who has become now something I don’t understand.
I ease the door open and slip out into the hall, letting it click quietly closed behind me. I square my shoulders, lifting my chin as I stride down the hallway to the back exit. I know now that the time for singing of rebellion is over. The time now has come for action. “You’re going to be okay, Aria,” I mutter i
n an attempt to reassure myself. “You’re going to be okay.” Even though it feels like I might never be okay again.
Blink 2 coming soon.
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About the Author
Ha… and there you are thinking I’m going to reveal big, dark, secrets. Sorry dear readers, not I, not this day. But I will share a few fun facts.
Ahem. ::Donning 3rd person hat::
C.B. Stone is sometimes called author, writer, or purveyor of stories. One might even dub her a yarn spinner, if you will. It’s very possible she might be considered just a little left of normal by most, but she’s cool with that. Really, she’s too busy avoiding normal to care.
On any given day, you might find Stone pounding away at a keyboard in sunny Florida, contemplating waves, contemplating life, and dreaming up more exciting stories to share with readers. Except Sunday’s of course. Sunday’s are God’s day, so you’ll often find her making her best “joyful noise” with her local church praise team.
When not pounding poor fingers to bloody nuggets and reinventing the definition of eye strain, C.B. Stone enjoys living it up, doing the family thing, the kid thing, and the friend thing. And in her downtime, reading the minds of fans.
Also being invisible. Being invisible is fun.
@AuthorCBStone
AuthorCBStone
More from Stone
The Island Trilogy
Desperation (The Island I)
Escalation (The Island II)
Deliverance (The Island III)
The Unbelief Series
Rehabilitation (Unbelief I)
Ruin (Unbelief II)
Revelation (Unbelief III)
God Wars: The Beginnings (An Unbelief Prequel)
The Absence of Song Trilogy
Awakening (Absence of Song I)
Becoming (Absence of Song II)
Chosen (Absence of Song III)
Absence of Song Box Set
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A Note To Readers:
First, thanks for picking up my book, I hope you enjoy it. Second, I’m an indie author. While I strive to make my books as error free as I can, and they are often edited more than once, I’m human, and I miss things. I always appreciate extra eyes, so if you see something I missed, please give me a shout. You can email me directly at [email protected].
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