Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1)

by Sarah Noffke

  Samara and Whitney surround him, but he waves them off, clutching his bleeding nose. “I couldn’t tell you. Trey wouldn’t let me.” His eyes are full of regret. He pushes the blood away with the back of his arm. “And you had so much to deal with, it didn’t feel right to tell you yet.”

  “Why does everyone get to decide what I can deal with? Shouldn’t that be my choice!?”

  “Roya.” His voice is almost a hush compared to my volume. “There hasn’t been a single day I haven’t been with you. Please believe me when I say I’ve tried to give you what I could. I tried to be your friend since I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

  Rage erupts in me like white fire. “So that’s even a facade? Our friendship’s just another act? It was you taking pity on me?!”

  “No, that isn’t what I meant. All I was saying—”

  “Shut up!” I cut him off. “You’re a liar. I’ve known that since the beginning.” I jerk out of Trent’s weak restraints.

  George steps forward. “Roya.” His voice is cautious. His eyes say stop.

  I know he feels what I’m about to say, but I don’t care. I’m only bent on destruction. “George, mind your own damn business for once! You know as well as I do Joseph’s a liar. Every word out of his mouth is a lie. He isn’t who he says he is.”

  Hurt flashes on Joseph’s face, but I don’t stop. I don’t know how. I’m officially out of control.

  “And who else knew?” I round on my team. “Did any of you know Joseph and I are twins?”

  Tension cuts through the room as my uncharacteristically authoritative presence takes over. I’m overwhelmed with power, justified in attacking anyone at this point. This is how people go down the path of evil; they let hurt tear them in two.

  From the corner of my eye, Samara raises her hand like she does when she has a stupid question in class. I turn on her. Of course she knew. I should have guessed. No shame traces her opaque blue eyes.

  You should have told me. I had a right to know. Something makes her mouth twitch slightly, but she doesn’t say a word.

  Beside her, George’s face catches my attention. Strain creases his forehead and painful guilt streaks his eyes. He wears his emotions on his face like a neon sign. It must be that he’s overwhelmed by everyone else’s and has no room internally to store his own.

  “George?” My voice is low now.

  His tone is flat, his eyes burdened. “I knew.”

  “How?” My head twists with confusion.

  “It’s Joseph’s connection to you. I’ve felt that type of emotional connection thousands of times between people. It’s unmistakable.” George clears his throat. “Only families feel that way about each other.”

  Of course. George knew how Joseph felt about me. Relationships are built on emotional foundations. George doesn’t just know how everyone feels at any given time, he also knows how we feel about each other, our past, things, events.

  “And you didn’t think it was important to tell me this?” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “I can’t reveal someone’s emotions.” George gives a sympathetic look. Recently I’d seen his guardianship of other’s emotions as noble. Not anymore. Now I see it as betrayal. With all my heart I focus on feeling betrayed, letting it envelop me in a powerful storm.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” George says, obviously picking up on my inward emotional outburst.

  “What else do you people know that you’re keeping from me?!” I yell, my face flushing hot.

  A crowd of speechless, sullen faces stares back at me.

  “Please, Stark.” Joseph’s eyes beg along with his words. It’s a look he’s perfected no doubt to manipulate people. I knew all along he was a liar, a cheat. Why did I let myself get close to him? “You have to listen to me. I can explain.” Joseph steps forward.

  I shake my head. “I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to listen to you. I don’t have to fight Zhuang. I don’t have to pretend any of this or you matter, because to me, right now…it doesn’t.” I whip around and stomp away, feeling all their eyes on my back.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  If I knew where one of the other GAD-Cs was located somewhere on the globe I’d travel there, autogenerate my body, and forget I’d ever been a Lucidite. Even though I already ran five miles this morning, I know the only thing left for me is to run. To hide in my room all day is lame. And going to trainings isn’t an option after I’ve just punched my brother in the nose.

  I grab my iPod and set off for the workout facility. Luckily no one’s in there. I jump on a treadmill, crank it up, and run. The music now holds new meaning than it did this morning. Every song is about lies, confusion, betrayal, loneliness. When I finally slow the treadmill it’s only because my body is past the point of depletion. I haven’t eaten or drank anything in several hours. Now my fear is I’ll pass out here. I drag myself to the showers before this happens. The water is frigid and I drink it in as it pours over my head. It stings my hand as it runs over my knuckles, which are red and cut where I punched Joseph. It’s nothing compared to the searing pain in my heart.

  I return to my room, still warm from the run, exhausted and emotionally burnt out. Why did I have to give that stupid chocolate to Shuman? It would be really great to have at this point.

  The other package I didn’t have time to open this morning sits on my bed. I grab it, hoping Bob and Steve packed me some more food. I yank open the box. On top of a piece of tissue paper is a card with a sailboat navigating choppy ocean waters. My heart aches at the sight of the image, knowing somewhere out there is the boat Joseph and I were born on. Our mother died on this boat. And then we were separated.

  I rip open the card, trying to get the ship’s image out of my head. It reads:

  Dear Roya,

  Forget who they say you’re supposed to be. Become who you are. Deep down there’s a place in you and this is where you’ll find the strength to defeat Zhuang. We’re proud of you. We believe in you.

  If all else fails then maybe this will help. You’re a warrior and we felt you should look like one.

  Love,

  Bob & Steve

  Did they know about Joseph and me? Maybe they’ve known all along? Fury flares at the thought. Could it be possible that every Lucidite knows more about who I am than I do? Am I their fool? Their puppet? Protected for the purposes of fighting their battles? Angry tears constrict my throat and I try to breathe them away.

  I yank back the tissue paper and find an object which fills me with confusion. In the box lies a braided leather headband fashioned with two iridescent peacock feathers. Magic seems to glimmer around them as I take in their richness. Vibrant blue encircles sturdy brown and encases soft green, like a lake with a shore bordered by grassy knolls. Enchanted by its beauty I sweep the headband into my shaking hands and wrap it around my head with the eye of the peacock feathers horizontally above my ear. The fanned ends trail behind my shoulder.

  I steal a glance in the mirror, inspecting myself like I’ve just put on a pair of earrings. The image isn’t what I expected. The girl who stares back from the mirror is a stranger. Somehow I’ve been transformed. The peacock feathers contrast boldly against my blonde hair, casting a powerful glow across my face. My cold, red eyes give away my forlorn heart, which actually completes the effect. All fighters are scorned in some way, that’s part of their motivation. With my headdress and a broken heart I look the part. I am a warrior.

  Guilt prickles my throat. The letter wasn’t about Joseph and me. Bob and Steve don’t know he’s my brother. They were just being supportive. How in the world did I ever land them as guardian angels? Once again I feel I don’t deserve them. Nothing that’s a part of my current life feels like it should belong to me. I have a twin brother, a dead mother, and a host family who was programmed to accept me. My entire life is an assortment of lies and there’s still much I don’t know. But I don’t want to know anymore. The pain is a knife pressing into my chest, sharp and threa
tening.

  Those people who raised me aren’t my family. They’re strangers who were forced to adopt me. No wonder I never truly connected with them. Understanding and pain take turns sifting through my chest as I force myself to revolve on the implications of everything I’ve learned. I was never truly theirs. I was a person placed into their home who they were forced to accept. But they never really did. My entire life…a lie. My entire life…manipulated. My entire life…wrong. All so I could become this warrior for the Lucidites.

  Furious, I rip the headband off and send it to the far corner of my room. The wall is cold when I slam against it and slide down until I’m seated. Clawing at my throat are a thousand hurts and scars and words I’ve never expressed, all protesting to be released. This is it. I won’t allow myself another moment like this. Not in battle and never in front of anyone. Silently I agree to these terms. The dull ache in my throat races forward, enjoying its first moment of freedom. The pain I’ve held onto for so long, the pain unearthed by this new discovery, emerges in hot tears which sting my eyes and sop my cheeks. My chest convulses with each eruption. I’m on fire and my tears are lava as they pour and flow. Just when I think I’m done and regain control there’s another explosion. This goes on until the tears dry up, and only because I’m dehydrated. I can’t cry another drop even if I want to. My well is empty.

  I sit staring off into the abyss for an hour. The dark space of a corner has never been so intriguing. My stomach awakens my attention. It’s imperative that I eat.

  I creep down the hallway, hyperaware of every noise. My reserves are so low at this point I’m like a threatened coyote, ready to attack at the slightest offense. Each step is torture. How have I allowed myself to get to this point?

  The main hall is mostly empty when I poke my head around the corner. There are only a few staff members prepping food stations. I sigh, grateful I don’t have to face anyone. With my head down I race for the drink table. The ice water freezes my throat as I gulp it down, but it instantly makes my body feel human again. I consider drinking straight out of the pitcher as I shakily refill my glass. The frigid water is once again racing down my mouth when I see a figure press into my periphery. I lower my glass and stare forward, afraid to turn and face him.

  “I knew you’d have to eat sooner or later, especially after all that running.” Joseph’s voice has an uncharacteristic shyness to it.

  Through clenched teeth I say, “You’ve been watching me?”

  “No, that would be creepy.” A sliver of his familiar tone returns.

  I swallow the last of the water and wipe my damp lips with the back of my arm. “Then how do you know I’ve been running?”

  I’m still standing with my back mostly toward him, afraid to look at his face, afraid of what it will make me feel. From the fringes of my vision I see him lean against a table and cross his ankles as casually as if he’s waiting to get his hair cut.

  “Well, for starters you’re still beet red like after the a.m. workouts. You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to know you’ve been beating the treadmill to death with your feet.”

  The dryness in my throat hasn’t vanished and I need more water. However, I’d rather Joseph not spy my shaking hands as I refill my glass.

  He pushes up from the table and strides until he’s in front of me. I focus on the bottle of water he shoves into my hand. “Of course, if I wasn’t a detective I would still know what you’ve been up to.” His nose is red and swollen and he wears a masked expression.

  I twist the cap off the water and take pleasure in the way it pinches my dry fingertips. Sometimes physical irritation is a welcome distraction from emotional pain.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask before downing half the bottle.

  “Drink up. I’ve got another couple bottles as well as your dinner here.” He gestures to a small white sack in his other hand.

  I flick my eyes back up to meet his. His casual attitude is making me want to punch him even harder than before. “Answer my question,” I seethe.

  “Why don’t you eat somethin’ first and then we’ll talk?”

  I almost lunge forward at him, but instead take the momentum and turn on my heels. Adrenaline races through my limbs as I stalk off toward the exit.

  “Wait!” Joseph yells, sounding half amused. I hear him jog up behind me, the plastic of the bag in his hands crinkling as he moves. “Look, don’t run off. I just meant that you’d feel better if you ate somethin’ and then we could discuss stuff.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” I say, staring wildly into his eyes.

  A laugh escapes his mouth. “Lord knows you wouldn’t do it anyway. Just tryin’ to be helpful.”

  “Helpful would be answering my questions.” I down the rest of the bottle and toss it in the trash bin. With my arms now free I automatically cross them over my chest. “How do you know what I’ve been up to? How do you seem to know so much about me?”

  Joseph’s casual expression disappears as he takes a long breath. He’s dreadful at being serious. It melts away his fake exterior. “At times I know you as well as I know myself. I get these ideas and I know they’re about you. It’s usually somethin’ you’re doin’ or thinkin’, and rarely what you’re feelin’. Sometimes I predict what you’re gonna do before you do it. It’s been like this since the moment we met. Somethin’ tells me when you’re more composed you sense these things too.”

  Although I wouldn’t admit it, I know he’s right. When I was younger, before I built a fortress of armor around myself, I used to think I had an imaginary friend. I didn’t talk to him or play with him or set a place at the table. I just knew he existed. I knew when he was happy or sad or excited. There were rarer times where I’d get a flash and know he’d just done something like spent his allowance on a gadget or done poorly on a math exam. Since I’ve always believed I was straddling the borders of insanity I just thought this was another indicator of my craziness. Was this actually Joseph? Was he my imaginary friend growing up?

  By the way Joseph is chewing on the inside of his cheek I’m guessing my silence is making him nervous. He isn’t one to embrace quiet. “You feel it, right? A connection between the two of us, even if just a tiny bit?”

  I roll my eyes to suppress the rawness of the situation. “Maybe, but I’m not about to go pick out matching sweaters.”

  “Did you know that my name wasn’t even on the list?” he says.

  “What? Then why are you here?”

  “Because your name was. Trey knew you’d need me in order to fully perform at your best.”

  “I don’t understand. Did you know this from the beginning?”

  “No, but when I figured out that we were twins I confronted Trey and he told me.”

  “But you were picked as an alternate,” I say, shaking my head.

  “No, you were, but we’re a package,” Joseph says. “Trey knows this. Haven’t you noticed your clairvoyance is stronger since you’ve been at the Institute? Well, for that matter, everything about you is stronger and faster. Please tell me you aren’t so thick that you’ve missed this.”

  I grimace. A crowd of white coats files into the hall.

  Joseph grabs my arm, dragging me to the exit. “Come on, let’s get outta here. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

  Normally I’d push him off, but I’m tired. He’s right too, I need answers and this is the only way I’m going to get them.

  Once we’re back to the main lobby he lets go of my arm. It’s quiet and open here. I plop on the ground and take the bag from Joseph. The container he’s packed is full of pasta salad. Perfect.

  “Stark, we’re two parts of a whole,” Joseph begins. “You see the immediate future and I see what’s gonna happen way in the distance. You’re naturally quiet and introverted. I’m loud and extroverted. Your ability to dream travel is amazing, which usually takes practice. This makes you great at tracking and strategizing. On the other hand, I see the unseen easily. I’m
an interpreter.” Joseph has a deep sincerity in his eyes. “We’re the perfect team.”

  “So that’s why you’re here? To bring out my abilities? That’s bizarre.”

  “Well, and I’m a Lucidite. I belong here. Trey had to bring me in because otherwise Zhuang would have found me and then I’d be dead. It was just a matter of time. Anyway, Trey always brings new Dream Travelers here when they’re young to help guide and train them. Then they’re released back out into the wild.” Joseph says this last part with a laugh.

  “What? What are you talking about?” I’m starting to worry he’s making all this up.

  He rolls his eyes. “Dream Travelers are a type of people, like a race. Most Dream Travelers have adopted an association with a society like the Lucidites. That’s how things stay organized. There are probably rogue Dream Travelers out there livin’ off the grid, but I’m sure it’s easier to stay connected for mutual reasons. Anyway, they have ways of discerning Dream Travelers who are about to come of age. I guess if they think they’re within their jurisdiction then Trey or Flynn or whoever runs this place pulls them in. It takes place usually around age sixteen, but in some cases families elect to send children to orientation earlier.”

  My head isn’t swimming at this point, it’s drowning in a sea of questions and confusions. “How do you know all this?”

  “Unlike you, I talk to people. I’m curious by nature. You, on the other hand, wouldn’t care how a bridge that materialized out of thin air in front of you came to be. That’s because you’re stubborn,” Joseph says with a smirk.

  “So there are other societies?”

  “I guess so. I don’t know the names of any, but I sense there are others. Maybe being Lucidite is a regional thing, like being an American. We don’t have to worry about it though. We’re Lucidites, just like our mother.”