Awakening

by Caris Roane

  The air exploded and wreckers began leaping into the space, initially firing at all the empty tables and monitors.

  Duncan unloaded as did everyone else. Wreckers fell, but more poured in behind them, firing as they entered the space.

  Luken moved fast and before the next wrecker could fire, he engaged mano-a-mano. Everyone else loaded and fired, loaded and fired.

  Some of the wreckers stayed hidden inside the grid only to suddenly appear then discharge their weapons. Duncan felt shards of marble chewing up his legs which answered at least one question; he wasn’t protected behind the shield, just invisible.

  Endelle shouted profanity as smoke filled the room. She waved her arm and the smoke dissipated. Great to have someone of power keeping the field clean.

  When the wreckers disappeared and the grid grew quiet, Merl called out a warning that the retreat was a feint. More would come any second.

  Merl directed everyone off to the sides again, out of the line of fire.

  “Jeannie,” Endelle shouted. “Get rid of these corpses.”

  Jeannie called out, “On three, cover your peepers. One … two … three.” Duncan closed his eyes for a moment as a flash of brilliant white light hit the room. And just like that, the bodies and debris vanished.

  But a split-second later, the wreckers reappeared in the opening of the grid, firing all over again.

  Duncan watched Owen fall to the ground, his right arm cut up and bleeding bad. But the screams and curses from inside the darkening grid told their own tale.

  Duncan was officially out of ammo and called out to Endelle. Because he was shielded, he was pretty sure no one else could hear him.

  Endelle shouted for an additional weapon for him.

  Owen, all the way across the room, alerted Endelle, then tossed the gun to her in a high arc to avoid the constant crossfire. She caught it easily in her hand. A second one followed.

  Endelle slung each of them in turn to Rachel, who passed one to Duncan. Each commenced firing again.

  Then suddenly, all activity from the grid ceased.

  “A new set of wreckers is coming in to replace this crew,” Merl shouted. “Everyone lie flat and get ready. Endelle, let Rachel and Duncan know.”

  Endelle responded, “They can hear and see everything.”

  “Okay. Good to know.”

  Duncan dropped to the floor and Rachel quickly stretched out beside him. Like him, she held her gun at her shoulder, ready to fire. She was trembling, but composed.

  Another group of wreckers appeared, six shotguns exploding. If any of the palace group had been standing, they would have been hit.

  Duncan fired his weapon quickly, reloading in between as fast as he could. Rachel continued to fold ammo in from Endelle’s suite, loading and firing as though she’d been doing it forever.

  Duncan saw that a new arrival had a tight bead on their position. The wrecker was aiming for what he couldn’t see but clearly knew to be there. In a swift movement, Duncan pulled Rachel close, then rolled them both swiftly to the right at least ten feet.

  The wrecker fired, blasting a hole in the marble floor where they’d just been.

  Rachel started to reload her weapon, but came up empty when she tried to fold shells from Endelle’s suite.

  “We need more ammo,” Rachel called out.

  Endelle reached for the box next to her then slid it in Rachel’s direction, but it got stuck on torn up pieces of the marble tile.

  Endelle cursed, but went right back to firing her weapon. Wreckers dropped one after the other.

  Rachel left Duncan, but thinned the shield out a little too far and became visible. She grabbed the ammo and slid it the rest of the way to Duncan.

  “Rachel! Your shield.”

  Endelle called her name and tossed Rachel a gun.

  As two more wreckers appeared in the grid opening, Duncan turned his attention to the battle. Both faced in Rachel’s direction.

  He heard her get off a shot as he lifted his shotgun and fired at almost the same time. Both wreckers also got off shots before they fell dead.

  Then everything turned unearthly quiet.

  Smoke once more filled the space.

  Endelle called for Jeannie’s assistance again. After another count-down and closing of eyes, the dead wreckers disappeared.

  Merl’s voice this time. “That’s it. Battle’s over.”

  “How do you know?” Duncan called out rising to his feet. Parts of the room were hard to see because of the smoke.

  Merl responded. “It’s a lack of vibration. You get really familiar with it in the grid. But hey, I’m going to grab their guns before the grid closes up.”

  Through the veil of smoke, he watched Merl step into the grid and begin tossing out shotguns and belts as well as several metal boxes of ordnance.

  Endelle once more waved her arm and the smoke cleared.

  And that’s when he heard a terrible gurgling sound not two yards from him, on his left.

  He knew then what had happened and turned slowly to stare down at Rachel. She’d been hit along the side of her waist, but the nature of the blast had severely damaged her internal organs. There was blood everywhere.

  In his vision, he hadn’t seen the end of the battle, just the beginning.

  Endelle was already shouting something to Jeannie about getting Horace over to the Command Center. Then suddenly Horace was right there, kneeling beside Rachel and working his healing magic on her fast and furious.

  But Duncan still remained as though fixed in place, his head dizzy, his heart pounding hard. His eyes burned. And he couldn’t move a goddam muscle.

  Horace started shouting, calling for his team and for Fiona, Jean-Pierre’s breh. Fiona had the ability to amplify various powers.

  Together, Horace and Fiona had recently pulled Duncan back from the grave as well.

  Duncan finally felt capable of movement and knelt beside Rachel. He took her hand but there was no answering response to the pressure of his fingers.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never wanted this to happen.”

  Blood pooled on her lips and dripped down her face, but she made eye contact. I’m so cold. So cold.

  No, Rachel. Don’t do this. You must know I love you.

  I know. But even her telepathic voice faded and her eyes closed.

  Rachel?

  He got no response.

  He could feel the healing waves as Horace worked hard to rebuild her organs. His team arrived, pushing Duncan out of the way. He didn’t protest.

  Instead, he stood by, looking down at her but hardly seeing her through a cloud of tears. He felt numb from head to foot as though he didn’t even exist.

  A surge of power had Rachel’s body arching. Her lungs barely moved, though, as she made small gasping sounds.

  Fiona arrived. She knelt beside Horace, closed her eyes, and the next moment Horace’s body stiffened quickly then relaxed. At the same time, Fiona slid backward to lie prone and unconscious on the floor.

  Fiona now lived inside Horace.

  Extraordinary waves of healing began to flow from the healer, amplified through Fiona’s power like nothing Duncan had ever felt before.

  He pressed a fist to his mouth and waited.

  Duncan? Rachel’s telepathic voice, but very weak.

  Yes? I’m here. Would she be all right? Would she live?

  There’s an angel behind you with red hair.

  Oh, fuck.

  He spun.

  Yolanthe.

  She’d done this. She’d sent the wreckers to the palace. To kill Rachel.

  He leapt for her and wrapped his hands around her neck, squeezing hard but nothing happened. Instead, she just smiled then drifted away. Some kind of Third Earth holographic bullshit. Yolanthe’s voice floated through his mind, I’m coming for you, Duncan.

  Returning to Rachel, he watched as a slight amount of color entered her cheeks. Because of the team working on her, he couldn’t get close, but
he could hold her gaze. “I hurt,” she whispered.

  Those words broke him because it meant she would live. Hot, stinging tears flowed down his cheeks. He nodded to her in response and kept wiping at his face with the palms of his hands.

  He sent, Just focus on healing.

  She closed her eyes once more.

  Duncan had never truly understood the nature of love, either being loved or loving someone in return. Mostly, he didn’t know how. He’d had every fine emotion beat out of him by the time he was seven, except for one thing, one memory. When he was little, his mother had often said to him: I will always carry you in my heart, no matter where I am.

  The problem was, the only thing he knew how to do well in his relationship with Rachel was the physical. Having sex with her was what he called love, though it wasn’t, not really. Yet sex was the one place he was free to express what he knew was in his heart.

  The recent lovemaking with her had been better than ever and they’d had many previous, extraordinary moments together in bed. But earlier at his lakeside home, almost as soon as he’d released, he’d shut down all his emotions, withdrawing from her.

  Rachel called it ‘throwing up walls’, and it was exactly like that.

  But tonight, Rachel had almost died and if they’d been in the field, she’d be dead. Endelle’s instant communication system had saved the day, bringing in Horace quickly and then his team and Fiona.

  The thought of losing Rachel was more than he could bear.

  Maybe it was the breh-hedden, but he wanted to try to have a real relationship with her.

  Rachel?

  She opened her eyes and shifted her head to look at him.

  Better? he asked.

  Much. Duncan, are those tears in your eyes?

  There was no point in lying. I almost lost you.

  Her breathing had normalized and he could see she had very little pain now. Fiona’s amplification of Horace’s healing power had worked swiftly.

  A moment later, Horace stiffened again as Fiona separated from him. Fiona awoke slowly as she came back to herself. She sat up and took several deep breaths, but looked depleted from the experience.

  Horace immediately got back to the business of continuing to heal Rachel. But he also directed part of his team to take care of Owen’s arm and the minor cuts most of them had from flying shrapnel.

  When he glanced back at Rachel, she was staring at him and tears now slid down the side of her face. Duncan, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can move forward with you. And it’s not the battle or that I got wounded. It’s us. It hurts too much to be with you, yet not really with you.

  Only one thought went through Duncan’s head: he couldn’t lose her.

  But what could he do about it?

  “I want to try.” He’d said the words out loud and with enough force that all activity in the room stopped.

  In any other circumstance, he would have been embarrassed. But there was something about Rachel being that close to death that made him not care what anyone thought.

  Rachel frowned. “Do you want to talk about this later?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’ll say this in front of all these people, because dammit, I want things to be different. I love you. I just don’t know how to show it. You see?”

  More tears tracked down the side of her face. “I do.”

  Horace gestured quietly for the healer nearest Duncan to move out of the way. Duncan sank down next to Rachel and took her hand once more in his, kissing her fingers. “I can’t make promises, but I want to try. There’s just been so much … ”

  “I know. I’ve always believed in your intentions and it hasn’t been all your fault. My husband ruined me for warriors. Tell me you know what I’m talking about.”

  “I do.” He nodded several times in quick succession.

  “So we’ll try?”

  “We will.” She even smiled, a sure sign the healing was almost complete.

  Endelle, who stood nearby, moaned then made a gagging sound. “Would somebody please get me away from these two? I’m ready to puke. Why does the breh-hedden always make such saps out of two perfectly decent people? If I ever behave this way, just take me behind the palace and shoot me.”

  A ripple of laughter rolled through the warriors and Fiona grinned. Jean-Pierre, having just arrived, laughed as well. He slid his arms around his woman from behind, holding her tight.

  “Don’t pay any attention to Endelle,” Fiona said quietly, one hand on Jean-Pierre’s face, caressing her breh.

  “I heard that,” the scorpion said.

  With the healing complete, Rachel had the healers lean back. In the way of powerful ascenders who could fold clothes from one dimension to the next, Rachel donned a light green robe, replacing her battle-damaged clothes.

  Duncan then helped her to her feet, but slid an arm around her waist in case she needed support.

  The darkening grid was long gone, sealed up, no doubt, by the Third Earth grid operators. Because the grid floated in a mysterious way, no two exit points remained the same. If Yolanthe wanted to hunt for Rachel, she’d be starting over and it would take time to find her again.

  And there was no reason to think Yolanthe had changed her mind about wanting Rachel dead.

  ~ ~ ~

  Rachel wanted badly to be in her own home, but Endelle asked her to stay for a little while, until they’d figured a few things out. But Her Supremeness did allow Rachel to use her bathroom.

  The battle, the severe injury, and the subsequent healing had left Rachel feeling used up and edgy. A shower was just what she needed.

  She let the hot water beat on her head, arms and shoulders. She hadn’t wanted to wash her hair, but the smoke from the battle permeated every strand.

  Occasionally, she touched her stomach, unable to believe just how much pain she’d recently endured. And now she was as good as new.

  She recalled lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering why she could see the stars. She’d understood, then, just how close she was to death and how she’d had one foot in the other-world, the place the Creator lived.

  She felt changed in some indefinable way, yet not a lot, just more like herself, more alive.

  Shutting off the showerheads, she toweled dry then went to work on her hair. Because it was long, it took some time to get dry.

  Afterward, she sampled some of Endelle’s numerous toiletries and settled on one that smelled like powdery flowers. She savored the sensation as she smoothed the lotion over her arms, her chest, her healed abdomen, and her legs. It felt good to be alive.

  She put on a pale blue cotton dress that ran to her ankles, then slid into navy flats. She folded her brush into her hand, flipped her head forward, and worked the rest of the tangles out. She recalled how Duncan, in years past, would hold her hair when he took her from behind.

  Duncan.

  What was she supposed to do with him? She felt the call of the breh-hedden working inside her again; desire was never far away.

  He said he wanted to try, but how realistic was that?

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Rachel?” Duncan’s low voice flowed through her chest, working her heart as though massaging with fingers.

  “I’m here.”

  “How are you feeling? You okay?”

  She knew only one thing - Duncan would be dead if she hadn’t engaged in the battle, if she hadn’t played the warrior, something she despised. She’d shot at a wrecker, and hit his arm so that his shot went wide.

  Then she’d been hit.

  Her throat started to ache.

  ~ ~ ~

  Rachel lived.

  Duncan felt really odd, as though a cushion of air was permanently fixed between the soles of his battle-sandals and the marble floor.

  Rachel lived.

  She was behind the door, having showered, but he could smell her rich, garden scent and he wanted to be near her.

  He took slow, deep breaths.
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  The adrenaline had finally passed as well as the feeling of near-loss that she’d almost died.

  If Yolanthe kept this up, he could lose Rachel. He didn’t know what to do, and he feared giving voice to any of his concerns, as though speaking them aloud would make them more real.

  When she opened the door, his heart almost collapsed in his chest. She was so beautiful with her hair a thick blond mass around her shoulders and her eyes bright with tears.

  He opened his arms and she fell against his chest. “What’s wrong?” The question seemed absurd given their circumstance.

  Nothing. Everything. Duncan, I’m scared.

  Her frightened voice inside his head crushed his heart a little more. God, he had it bad.

  He held her, rubbing her back gently. “Of course you’re scared.”

  “No,” she said, pulling away slightly to look at him. “It’s not what you think. Duncan, you almost died.”

  He frowned, perplexed. “What? No, you almost died.” Maybe the recent experience had confused her.

  She shook her head and pressed her face into his neck. “If I hadn’t fired that last shot … ”

  He made a quick review of the last part of the battle, when she’d reached for the ammo Endelle had slid toward her and as a result the shield had vanished. He’d been on the floor, a wrecker gun leveled at him. Now that he thought back, he realized that the wrecker’s right arm had jerked when he’d been hit, his shot going off in another direction and exploding one of the desks near Duncan.

  Rachel was the one who had fired her gun at the wrecker and deflected the shot. She’d saved his life.

  But it was the other wrecker who had fired at Rachel. But thank the Creator the shot had gone off-center. If Rachel had taken a full hit to the gut, she would have been severed in two.

  Duncan shuddered but quickly reined in the horror of this added reality. He would have died as well if not for Rachel. Finally, he said, “Well, it doesn’t matter except we’re both here now and we’re both alive.”

  She sighed heavily, her fingers stroking his arms and his back.

  He held her for a long time, not wanting the moment to end and definitely not certain where he should go from here. In fact, he didn’t know where they could possibly go to be safe from the wreckers. These grid warriors had already succeeded in finding Rachel at his home and now here in Endelle’s palace.