The Color Alchemist: The Complete Series

by Nina Walker

  And a longing deep within me tugged hard at my heart.

  So why didn’t I recognize her? And why weren’t the memories of us rushing back to me?

  Beyond the photographs, I’d hoped seeing her in person would spark something in the hidden parts of my brain, but so far, there wasn’t anything new. Suddenly, she began to turn in her sleep, a frightened moan escaping her lips. I sat back on my heels.

  “Stop,” she breathed, panic ringing in her high voice. “Please.” Long strands of her unruly hair wrapped around her face, and a faint sheen of sweat along her brow glistened. My heart pounded, the heat rising within, as my body reacted to her.

  I didn’t think, didn’t question my instincts. I just reached out and gently shook her. “Wake up, Jessa. You’re dreaming.”

  She blinked rapidly, eyes only inches from mine and delirious with sleep.

  “Lucas?” The pain on her face was replaced with relief. She flung her arms around me, pulling me toward her and closing the distance between us. Shock burned within me as her lips melded perfectly to mine. Shock, and then something else, something much more primal.

  My eyes slammed shut and I deepened the kiss. She smelled of lilac and soap and warm summer nights. She felt like coming home and the inertia of free fall. And although my mind may have forgotten her, my body remembered. The way her face fit perfectly in my palm, the angle at which her jaw jutted upward to me, the gentle tilt of her cheek, the soft flutter of eyelashes against my skin. It all poured over me like salve to a wound.

  Of one thing, she hadn’t been lying.

  I rocketed back to standing, ashamed. I didn’t remember her! I couldn’t be kissing her, not like that. Her eyes opened wide, following me as they blinked away the previous moment. Embarrassment crept across her cheeks in deep red strokes as she sat up, stretching her body out like a kitten. The hem of her shirt rose above the hemline of her gray cotton pants, briefly exposing a line of pale stomach.

  I imagined roots extending from my feet and into the floor, grounding me in place. It was either that, or pick up where we left off. But I couldn’t let myself, not with so many unanswered questions. Not with how dangerous she could be.

  I glanced down at my clothing, relaxing at the all-black ensemble.

  “I’m sorry,” her voice chirped. “I wasn’t fully awake. I was just so happy to see you. I didn’t think.” Her bright ocean eyes shone with such intensity, and I couldn’t turn away.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s okay. Let’s just forget about it.”

  She shook her head. “If only you knew how long it took you to get me to forgive you…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What do you mean?”

  She glanced around the room. Even though we were underground, no expense had been spared. The bedding had been stripped save for the white sheets, and there wasn’t a rug, but there was a black couch along one wall, a black dresser and furniture set, smooth white walls adorned by black and white landscape photography, and a small crystal chandelier hanging above the bed.

  I noticed her eyes lingering on the oak door, painted black on this side. It matched the black trim lining the room.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Those things are thick. Nobody can hear us.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was actually true, not if my father had a certain kind of alchemist with him.

  She looked skeptical but nodded anyway. “Are you okay?” she said. “I assume you still don’t remember anything?”

  “I don’t.”

  “But, they haven’t punished you? Have you talked to Richard yet? What did he do to you?” Concern knit her brow, eyes pleading. One hand was fisting the sheet anxiously. What on earth was she talking about?

  I shrugged, relaxing onto the couch. “I’m fine. My father is fine. I just talked to him.”

  Her eyes flashed skeptical. “He didn’t say anything?”

  I cocked my head at her, trying to figure her out. “About what?”

  She took a deep breath. “Lucas, they’ve been torturing me.”

  I sunk into the couch, guilt pulling me down. “I know.”

  “No, I mean, they want names. I didn’t mean to give them yours.”

  “My name?” That didn’t make sense.

  “Yes, Lucas. They know you were with the Resistance. Or well, they don’t know any of the details, but that you’ve been involved somehow.”

  I shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t remember. Guess it doesn’t matter. Everything is fine.” Even as I said it, I didn’t believe it. I needed answers, but I also needed her to be on my side—to trust me.

  She frowned, jumping from the bed and coming to join me on the couch. Her gray cotton outfit was rumpled from sleep. She looked at me so earnestly, I almost felt sorry for her. This was too easy. She slid in close, leg pressed to mine, heat intermingling, and I stilled. Discomfort and longing warred within me, each fueling off the other.

  “Don’t you want to know what happened?” she asked.

  “I do. It’s hard to know who’s telling me the truth and who isn’t. Richard thinks you tried to kill me.”

  I gave her a knowing look, knitting my eyebrows together. Then I chuckled when she sat back, eyes wide and appalled.

  “I would never hurt you, Lucas!” she challenged. “Someone needs to tell you everything that happened.” She chewed her lower lip, nodding once to herself. “I’m the only one who knows everything. It needs to be me.”

  “It’s against my doctor’s wishes.” I sighed. “He wants me to remember on my own without anyone else putting their versions inside my head.”

  Too bad it was already too late for that! The image of Celia’s slatebook popped into my mind.

  “But aren’t I allowed to defend myself?”

  I smiled. “You’re right. Tell me your version of events.”

  Over the next hour, she did.

  By the end, I sat motionless, bile rolling in my stomach. Jessa’s hand was in mine, caressing my palm as she cried silent tears, as I was held captive by her rendition of events. Was it true? It was all so detailed, and hard not to believe it. But if she was telling the truth, it meant I was on her side. And she on mine. It meant my father had secrets beyond what I’d ever imagined, secrets so dark, there was no way to shine light on them without revealing the man he really was.

  That he was manipulative beyond anything I already knew.

  It also meant I needed to convince him to keep her around a little while longer. Last thing I wanted was to wake up one day with all my memories and emotions returned, only to realize my wife had been executed for protecting my sins.

  I had to verify her story, and if it checked out, to keep her from being killed for it. I just didn’t know how that was ever going to be possible. Because there was one place her story and my father’s coincided.

  Jessa was a traitor to the royal family and her actions were punishable by death. When it came to that, Richard was in the right. What could I do to convince him otherwise?

  And I also wondered just how much of this conversation was really between Jessa and I. Richard had sent me in here on the pretense that I get names, that one-on-one time with her would soften my wife up to helping me, but what if all of that had been another game?

  Fear unsettled me as I considered why I was in here alone with her. It was very possible that my father had found a way to hear every last word of Jessa’s confession to me. If that was the case, she had dug herself in even further than before. And I’d helped her do it.

  11

  Jessa

  “I’ve struck a deal with my father on your behalf,” Lucas said with triumph as he slipped into the room. He’d spent a lot of time in my new prison cell over the last couple of days, mostly to ask me questions. Each time he came through that door, I was reminded of how much I loved him, but also, of how worried I was for him. And for us.

  I eyed him wearily. Any deal with Richard wasn’t a good one—not for me.

  “He agreed to put the R
esistance names behind him for now, if you’ll help him win the war. Then, when this whole thing is over, we can go back to normal.”

  I stared at him, not really believing the insane words escaping his mouth. “Are you serious?” I sputtered, catapulting from where I’d been lounging on the couch. “You really think things can ever go back to normal? Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve been saying? And forget the fact that you still don’t remember me!”

  He frowned, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes briefly. “I can’t help that,” he said, voice low and gravelly. “It’s called compromise, Jessa. If you don’t want it, if you’d rather die, then so be it.”

  I stilled, returning his challenge with a glare of my own. Did he really mean that? His eyes were set, his mouth a flat line, as our gazes battled. Frustration tightened, pulling me to him like a string.

  “So we’re helping your father now? That’s the plan.” I stalked the length of the room until we were inches apart, the space between us charged with electricity. “I won’t do it.”

  He glowered down at me, any semblance of sincerity in his expression now lost. “You will do it,” he barked between gritted teeth. “You will help us. You will do as my father asks. You will do whatever is needed to stay alive, Jessa. You will.”

  Silence stretched between us. I jutted my chin. “No, Lucas, I won’t.”

  He growled, lips pinching, eyes darkening. Folding his arms over his chest, his biceps bulged against the black fabric of his t-shirt. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you want to die? You’re being unreasonable.”

  “I can’t,” I said low. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

  “And I don’t think you know what’s going to happen to you!”

  His voice reverberated off the walls, hardening the thick tension that was now suffocating the room. I knew what I was doing. I’d rather die than see Richard take over West America. I wasn’t going to step in line. There was no going back for me. Either way, I figured I was dead. If that’s how I was going, I was going out with dignity.

  Lucas and I stood toe-to-toe as I held my ground.

  An alarm erupted through the room, shrill and persistent. We flew apart, looking around wildly for the source of the noise.

  Woop! Woop! Woop! It assaulted my ears, bringing me to my knees. I pressed my hands into my ears, scrunching up my face and squeezing my eyes shut. A wave of sheer panic overtook me.

  “What does that mean?” I yelled, looking up to Lucas.

  “Enemy on base!” He replied, his voice barely audible over the screaming siren. Panic transformed into hope and my heart slammed into overdrive. I needed to get out there!

  A red light popped out of the ceiling, flashing in blinding intervals. A second, deeper alarm echoed along with the first.

  “And that?” I pointed to the light, squinting hard.

  “I don’t know. I think it’s best if we stay put.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. I sprinted for the door. Adrenaline propelled me forward, my legs aching at the sudden movement.

  “Don’t!” Lucas called, but it was too late. I tore out into the main room of the underground bunker, looking for threats. Except for one lone guard, standing by the door and fiddling with his slatebook, everyone else had left, probably to aid the fight above.

  The guard was distracted, not looking at me when I jumped him. My training with Branson all those weeks ago kicked in, returning in an instant. I disarmed him in one kick to the stomach, sending him sprawling. Then I took off for the stairs, Lucas right behind me.

  “You can’t go up there! I can’t go up there!” Lucas shouted, but it didn’t matter what he said now. His influence over me had vanished minutes earlier. He wasn’t on my side; he was on Richard’s now.

  Through all the changes, nobody had thought to check inside my bra. Thank God! I connected with the only color I had—the purple—and reached out.

  Sasha, I screamed through the connection. Is that you? Are you guys here to get me out?

  Jessa! Where are you? This isn’t going well, we’re going to have to retreat soon.

  I don’t know! Some warehouse. A bunker is below it, they’ve put me with Richard and Lucas.

  Richard is with you?

  My legs pumped up the stairs, and I sprinted into the empty space above. It wasn’t more than a fifteen by fifteen foot room with a garage door on one end, next to that, a closed steel door.

  He’s not. It’s just me, Lucas, and one guard right now for all I can tell.

  Gunfire pummeled outside, bullets hitting the garage door, bending it. I dropped to my knees, crawling to the door, needing to escape.

  Lucas grabbed my ankle, but I kicked at him as I strained for the door handle. Thankfully, I gripped the metal and turned, swinging it open.

  I caught the flash of a blonde ponytail, recognizing Sasha at the other end of the alleyway. Hope blossomed and tears sprang to my eyes.

  “I’m here!” I called out, desperate and relieved all at once.

  Lucas’s hard body jumped on my back and flattened me to the floor with a crack. Pain burst through my ribcage and I gagged, the breath knocked out of me.

  I don’t see you, Sasha’s voice shot through my mind.

  I peeked up, spotting her as she sped closer, her eyes zeroed in right where I was lying with Lucas. One hand pressed over my mouth, the other pinning me to the floor, his body covered mine.

  I’m here! I pushed back. The magic began to fade. I needed more purple. I’m almost out of purple. I’m right in front of you. I’m with Lucas. He’s covering my mouth!

  I bit at his hand, but he only gripped harder. He stayed silent as I writhed under him.

  I don’t see you. She turned and sprinted further away.

  “Hey!” The guard from downstairs was in the garage now, Lucas rolled us out of the way just before the man stepped into our path. He looked around for a moment, then took off out the opened door, gun raised.

  My magic faded, and I knew the strip of color hidden inside my bra had too.

  I wriggled, trying to break free of Lucas. But there was nothing I could do; he had total control over me, his dominance overpowering. I craned my neck around to shoot him a nasty look, realizing he’d made us invisible. There was nothing to see here, no sign of our struggle, nothing but an empty room.

  No wonder Sasha hadn’t seen me.

  I continued to fight, but he held strong, keeping me detained in that god-forsaken building, watching a small slice of the action unfold outside, completely unable to take part.

  From our vantage point, it appeared that the fight was moving out as West American soldiers retreated. New Colony soldiers and alchemists charged after them, war cries, weapons brandished, and strands of brilliant color weaving and darting from the hands of alchemists that followed.

  All at once, the area fell into silence.

  “Come on,” Lucas said, letting go of my mouth.

  “Get off me!” I screamed, hot tears streaming down my face. “Sasha! Sasha, I’m here!”

  It was no use. We both knew that. We were alone. I crawled to my knees, overwhelmed by the heavy disappointment that buried me.

  He stood, leaned over, and he had the audacity to pick me up.

  “Get your hands off me! You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing,” he said, charging toward the staircase. His hands gripped me under my legs and around my shoulders, holding me tight against his chest. His heart pounded so loudly, I could feel it against my side. “I’m saving your life! You think people know you’re here? Very few do and even less know about me. We have to be careful, Jessa.”

  “I was getting out of here! What did you think? That West America was going to kill me? They came for me!”

  His body tensed, step faltering. “Either way,” he supplied, “it’s too risky.”

  “Oh, and staying here and getting executed is a better plan?” I shoved
at him as we moved down the stairs, wriggling and jolting with each step. “I mean it, Lucas, put me down!”

  “You’re not going to get executed because, like I said, I already worked out a deal with my father on your behalf. A deal that you’re going to graciously accept.”

  “We already had this conversation. I said no.”

  “And now any hope you have of getting out of here is gone,” he snapped. “You’re going to do it, Jessa. I need you alive.”

  He carried me into the main room then back to my prison cell, dropping me on the bed with a huff.

  I bounced, then hurried to standing, hands fisted at my sides. “Why do you care if I’m alive?”

  “Because,” he replied, exasperated. “I don’t know if I believe everything you’ve told me, but I do believe one thing.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked sarcastically.

  “I believe we were in love.” He glared, pain burdened behind his gray eyes. “I believe I wouldn’t want you executed, nor would I want you running off to West America.”

  What a joke! He was the one who snuck me out of the palace in the first place.

  “What makes you think that? You’re crazy. You’re selfish and so—”

  He didn’t let me finish. His hungry lips crashed into mine, devouring me, possessive. I shoved him away. Hard. At first he didn’t budge, but on the second shove, he stumbled back, hands flying into the air. He let out a groan and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him so forcefully that a picture frame fell from the wall.

  I picked up the broken shards, smoothing out the black and white image of a beach scene. There wasn’t any glass. Nothing to get at someone’s blood.

  He left me there for hours, locked in that room without a clue to what was happening above. The alarms had long since stopped and I was left to stew. I slept on and off, despite attempts to stay awake. I’d decided that the moment the door opened, I’d be ready to pounce, to make my case, to fight, anything would be better than sitting here. But when the door finally did open, it wasn’t Lucas on the other side.