Ray of Light (The Incandescent Series Book 1)

by Elle Scott

  I held my breath with the sound of my door creaking open. My eyes had only just squinted open when Xander started jumping on my bed. I felt like I was in a tumble dryer on repeat cycle.

  ‘Stop! I'm going to spew!’ I giggled.

  ‘I know right,’ he boomed, giving one last high tuck jump and landed on my bed in a heap. ‘I found you, I found you, I found you!’

  ‘That was a terrible hiding spot,’ he smiled and softly punched my arm.

  He always made me feel so special.

  ‘It’s Mummy's turn to be the “finder” anyway,’ I teased. ‘Go away you’re too loud!’

  ‘Let's get you a better spot!’ he enthused, clapping his hands in excitement.

  He knew I didn't like being treated like a little kid but I loved that he cared enough to keep the childlike act up.

  I glared at him to not treat me like a baby.

  ‘Sorry,’ he stopped and threw his arm over my shoulders.

  As we bounded down the stairs, I missed a step, I tried to grab at the hand rail but fumbled and tripped forward. As I screamed and clenched my eyes shut waiting for impact, he caught me and cradled me in his protective arms.

  Mum rushed down the stairs. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  Xander and I unbundled ourselves and looked at each other. He gave me a smirk, I giggled.

  ‘Clumsy feet!’ Xander teased rolling his eyes theatrically.

  I shook my head and smiled. Mum laughed and looked at me, she tilted her head and smiled.

  ‘Well, I only got to count to thirty, so I'll have to go and keep counting,’ she sighed.

  As soon as she turned her back, Xander swooped me up and ran me to the laundry. He threw me into the mountainous stack of post-dried clothes hamper and covered me up completely. He ended up needing to direct Mum to where I was, and we giggled about it for hours.

  Xander, where on earth are you? I need you to bring my family back.

  ‘Kate!’ I hear my name through the beats of David Guetta.

  I open my eyes as we pull up to a large bolted gate. Beyond it lies an airport that looks like it hasn't been used for years.

  ‘We're catching a plane?’ I sneer.

  ‘No, honey, wait here for a second,’ Mum says, it's the nicest she's been to me for a while.

  Dad steps out of the car and leans in. ‘Kate, make sure you stay here, okay? If you see anyone but us appear, make sure they don't see you, okay? Hide!’

  Hide?

  ‘Where are we Dad?’ I ask concerned. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘We think this is where Xander is. Stay put,’ he commands.

  As he closes the door, I hear him say to my mother: ‘We shouldn't have brought her!’ I don't hear her reply.

  I lean forward and lock the doors. I watch them walk up to the gate and press a button on the intercom. My eyes are open wide. I can't stop looking. They actually did it. They got up off their butts and actually put their concerns into action. I'm impressed and petrified at the same time. My heart feels like it's going a million miles an hour and nothing has even happened yet. They are just standing at the gate. Mum keeps pressing the intercom button like pressing it over and over again will make someone appear. I look around, this place is definitely abandoned, they must have gotten the address wrong. They both walk back to the car. I unlock the doors for them.

  Dad sits down and turns to look at me, his smile is warm. ‘You alright kiddo?’

  ‘Fine,’ I shrug. Don't start to worry about me now.

  ‘Xander!’ Mum yells to the wind, ‘XANDER???’

  She falls into the car and sobs, her whole body shakes. She cries like I've never seen her cry before. A lump forms in my throat and my tear ducts open—no… no! I refuse to start crying, what if I can't stop?

  ~~~

  I wake up to an urgent banging on the door of our hotel room. I look over at the ancient alarm clock that the owners obviously don't want to waste money on upgrading, it's midnight.

  ‘Mr and Mrs. Abramson? My name is Miles Ladlow… I work for Palladium… I believe you want to know where Xander is?’

  Mum opens the door and this Miles guy walks in and… be still my beating heart. Oh my god! He's gorgeous. From his lightly tanned skin, to his ruffled dusty blonde hair, to… those eyes—those heavenly soulful speckled eyes. He sits down and my parents begin the interrogation, they crowd him in and fire frenzied question after question.

  ‘Who are you? Are you Professor Ladlow's son?’ Dad asks.

  ‘They've told us not to worry and that Xander will be home soon.’ Mum states.

  ‘How many others do you have held captive like this?’ Dad.

  ‘Is he hurt? OH god, is he hurt?’ Mum.

  ‘Give us the bad news,’ Dad.

  ‘No! Give us the good news first,’ Mum.

  Miles holds his hands up. ‘Guys, please, just let me speak—I need a bit of time to explain it all to you. You have to understand this is classified!’

  ‘We're his parents!’ my mother pleads.

  ‘And I will tell you, now! I need you to know it's classified alright? I shouldn't be here. Xander is a really good friend. I'm only here to help.’ Even the sound of his voice is angelic.

  He looks at me, oh lordy, he's smiling at me. I giggle. I'm so embarrassed, I hope he can't read minds.

  ‘Kate, go and have a shower,’ my dad says emphatically.

  ‘What?’ I gasp, that's even more embarrassing. ‘I had one this morning!!’

  ‘Yes, sweetie, just while we talk. Run the water full force,’ Mum adds.

  Are you kidding me?

  ‘I'm not a child, I’ve already turned thirteen remember! I deserve to know the truth too!’ I complain.

  I glare at Miles, he's a nice guy right? He'll defend me, I'm old enough to hear it. He looks away to avoid the awkwardness.

  ‘NOW!’ Dad commands.

  This is absolute rubbish, it's degrading, it's exclusive. Am I not part of this family?

  I slam the bathroom door shut and turn the taps on as far as they go. I press my ear up to the door to hear, something… anything. I hear nothing.

  I wonder if they would even notice if I slipped out this window? Would they care that I am still here? That I still need their care and attention. I can't remember the last time we spent time together—actual quality time. Oh, it's fine, they have me with them, they don't need to worry about me. They don't need to invest in me.

  It's bull shit. Yeah, I said that. It's bull fucking shit!

  ELEVEN

  Kate

  No one spoke a word the whole trip home. They would exchange knowing glances with each other—but as for noises actually forming in their larynx to speak words of truth, not a single drop. They'd tell me if he was dead, right?

  I storm to my bedroom and lay on my bed to conspire a plan of attack. An intervention. I can sit them down, demand me time—tell them they are being awful parents and make them see the error of their one-tracked close minded ways. Or I could continue sitting in the back ground, develop a liking for being a wallflower; fade into the distance. Less rejection then maybe, if I extract myself—at least that's my choice. Or I could, oh I don't know. I could just be a kid—go to School: deal with peer pressure and bullying; worry about what clothes I'm going to wear; complain about home work; crush on boys who will never like me; wish I had a new hairstyle or a whole different appearance. That's what I should be obsessing over… right? Instead I'm working up the courage, that no child should ever be afraid of, to tell my parents how I feel.

  I take a big sigh, squeeze the bedding tight and push myself upwards. I'm stuck here now. Do I go or not?

  I realise I'm still grasping the bedding and let go promptly, my knuckles hurt when I stretch my fingers out.

  Are things really that bad that I need to have “a talk” with my parents? They are hurting, they are scared. I wonder what they know that I don't. Are they keeping to themselves more than what they were told in the early hours of the mor
ning? Why did they feel the need to drive all the way to that creepy airport? Maybe they are protecting me.

  It doesn't matter, I need to tell them how I feel. If I can't have Xander, I still need my parents back.

  I make my way to the top of the stairs, I got this far—great, now go down and talk. It's nine in the evening, they'll be having their hot chocolates or brandy or scotch or whatever it is that relaxes them this time of night, so that's good for me. Them being relaxed.

  I'm startled by a large crashing noise. It sounds like glass breaking—a lot of glass breaking. I start running down the stairs but the smell of smoke stops me.

  ‘What is that?’ yells my mother.

  ‘Smoke grenade!’ My father bellows with fear, ‘get up the stairs!’

  I rush back up.

  Dad appears to be dragging mum by her arm pits, he glances up to see me standing here, frightened and alone. He mouths the word “hide” to me. I see plumbs of smoke roll out from the living room, it's so thick and so much of it. The smell is overwhelming. I get on my knees and crawl to the wall beside the staircase. As I peer around the corner I see two men in gas masks emerge out of the cloud of smoke and grab my parents. Mum is hanging there motionless in a man's arms. His arm is inked shoulder to wrist in black swirls, like rotten maggots stuck on his flesh. I try to scream but the smoke gets caught in my lungs and I cough instead.

  My dad darts his eyes up to me. I've never seen him look like this before, he's looking straight at me and I can't figure out what his expression is telling me. And then I feel it like a ton of bricks slamming into my heart. In this moment, right now, all he is worried about is me.

  I quickly move along the wall a bit. What am I going to do? Where am I going to hide? How do I help my parents? Why are these people here?

  ‘Hi there, Nicholas Abramson,’ a man starts to speak to my dad. They must have moved to the dining room; his voice is directly below my feet, ‘I'm of the understanding you have knowledge on something you shouldn't. Am I correct?’

  ‘I don't know what you are talking about,’ my dad says innocently.

  ‘Don't play that card with me. Do you love your wife?’

  I hear a clicking noise, like a gun being cocked and I jolt up, Mum?

  ‘Nooooo!’ My father's voice shrills through the house, ‘leave her alone!’

  ‘Do you know something you shouldn't, Nicholas?’

  Silence.

  ‘Hmm, this is a lovely family portrait, is that your daughter?’

  ‘No, no please,’ dad cries. ‘She's not here. She's at a friend’s house!’

  I frantically scuffle along the ground until I reach my room, no this is obvious. Think Kate, think.

  ‘Go find her, Miguel!’ One man says to the other.

  I jump to my feet and run out of my room into the bathroom. I hear footsteps leaping up the stairs. Hiding behind the door in the bathroom, I peak through the gap to see a figure walk into my room. It's now or never. I hold my breath and tip toe to the stairs, sounds of cupboard doors opening and clothes falling off their hangers resound down the hall from my bedroom.

  If I can just get out of the house, I can run and find help.

  I reach the bottom of the stairs and lean against the thin layer of plaster that separates me from my parents.

  ‘Please, you don't have to do this!’ I hear my dad beg.

  ‘But you're not telling me what I want to know!’ the man continues to torment.

  ‘I don't know anything!’

  ‘LIAR!’ The man hollers.

  A thunderous crack shakes the wall that supports me and I fall to the floor.

  ‘Elizabeth!’ My dad yells, ‘Elizabeth. No. No. No.’

  Mum?

  ‘Hey!’ I look up to see Miguel and his maggot arm running down the stairs. Like a giant, he bounds down three steps at a time—his huge neck muscles flaring with every movement, his bushy eyebrows shading his deep-set eyes, hiding them and his soul from view.

  I don't stop to consider what just happened, if my mum was shot or not, I don't have time, I get to my feet and I run. I weave through the hall and into the laundry, slamming the door shut. My hand is shaking as I unlock the back door and hold it open. Surely, he will catch me if I run now.

  ~~~

  ‘Kate?’ An unknown voice is calling my name, it's a woman.

  It's hard to open my eyes, they are full of dried tears. I must have fallen asleep here. I can smell a mixture of my dad's cologne and the floral scent of fabric softener. I never realised how much I love this simple and familiar smell. I don't know how long I've been here… two hours, two days?

  ‘Kate?’ the laundry door opens.

  I startle and fall forwards out of our large full washing hamper. A girl about the age of Xander appears, she sees me laying on the laundry floor surrounded by my parents’ clothes. She kneels in front of me, her face is sweet and kind, her beautiful brown almond shape eyes make me feel safe immediately. I wonder if she sees the dazed agony in my own eyes.

  ‘Kate? I'm Viv, I'm a friend of Xander's. You need to come with me.’

  TWELVE

  Nora

  Five years later

  I wipe the tears off my face and force myself to sit up. I'm so weak. I can't believe I've lost it like this. A girl, in an unnerving predicament—worrying about her appearance. OK, it's much more than that but whatever. Deep breath in, close my eyes, deep breath out. I sit in strained silence for a minute before I realise the door should open soon. Five minutes, isn’t that what Miles said?

  I wonder what I will face once it does. Are Viv, Miles, Eli and Ross okay? Is Xander okay? Will I be okay?

  I will my trembling body up and look at the wall once more, I scowl at myself. Like hurting my reflection will somehow hurt my mother. But all the scowl does is show me her again. A distinct memory this time, one I’ve tried so hard to shake.

  At seven-years-old I was full of hope, wonder, and stubbornness, not an inch of real pain had ever shocked my innocent core.

  ‘Eleanora! Baby, you can do it!’ When she smiled, it lit up my world. They were so few and far between, it felt like Christmas and my birthday rolled into one when I was graced with a smile from her. She put my hands around the edge of the pool and took a few steps away from me.

  ‘Don't Mumma, don't!’ I pleaded stretching my arms for her to hold me.

  ‘It's okay,’ she reassured me, her large green eyes hovering above the tepid water. ‘I'm right here!’

  I had no reason to not believe her, her word was like a golden whisper in my ear. I lunged forward, using my feet to propel me off the wall. I kicked so hard I could feel my toes smashing up and down, in and out of the water. My arms had no fluid motion, I just motored them as fast as I could in her direction. She grabbed my waist and lifted me high out of the water, spinning around in circles. Churning water splashed around us and I screamed with delight.

  ‘I knew you could do it baby girl!’ She planted a kiss on my cheek and held me in a tight embrace as we bathed in our success.

  That's when I asked her; ‘Mummy? Why do fingers wrinkle in the water?’

  ‘It's your body changing, adapting to the surroundings!’ Her eyes alight with what I had innocently thought was love.

  As we climbed out of the pool and started walking towards the waiting room, I asked a question.

  ‘Mummy?’ I asked as sweetly as I could, ‘why is it sometimes that my heart burns?’

  I've scrutinised this question every day of my life since I said it. It’s almost like this was the moment which made her realise that she wasn't cut out for motherhood, or any part of who I am.

  She stopped in her tracks and knelt down in front of me. ‘What do you mean Eleanora?’

  ‘My fingers tingle and then my heart burns.’ I held them up an inch from her shining eyes.

  ‘From the wrinkles?’ She furrowed her brow, almost as if she was begging me to say yes. I should have said yes.

  ‘No, well, the wrinkles just
remembered me.’

  ‘Reminded?’ She corrected.

  ‘Yes, it reminded me of that feeling I get in my heart sometimes to fix things with my hands.’

  She gasped so loud I could hear it echo around the domed aquatic centre, the more the sound echoed the further into my soul it hit. Then a scowl. The scowl I can never forget. ‘Don't be silly, Eleanora.’ She grabbed my hand tight and dragged me into the change rooms. Her dramatic changes in disposition scared me at times, she was always so up and down. Sometimes she'd be open and funny and warm, other times she was shut off, preoccupied, annoyed by me. But this time it was different. She was as cold as a glacier in the Arctic, looming large over my fragile body—and even though I was ever so careful not to bump into her in fear that she might crack and crush me, she decisively and unapologetically crushed me anyway.

  That was the last time I saw her. Well, except when I look in any damn mirror. I’m surrounded by them here, I can’t escape.

  Still shaking I walk to the door and rest my head on the surface. It’s okay, everything will be okay. I know this because everything has been okay. Since I was seven, my dad made sure I had a normal upbringing, it was actually better once she left. I didn’t have to worry about what mood she was in, or if I’d get in trouble for saying the wrong thing. The memories hurt at times, but mostly I’m okay. I have great friends in Team Alpha, who accept me no matter what I say or what I look like. Sure, the mirror thing is a new problem, but…

  The door lock thuds; I stand back and watch it open. I see the river bank and trees leading up the mountain but we are surrounded by—glass?

  Alright Nora, I give myself a pep talk, whatever that was you just went through forget about it. I have a feeling something more important needs my attention. When the door is wide enough for me to fit through I step forward with caution. I feel a hand on my shoulder, Xander! I spin around and latch onto him like a leech. ‘Oh my god!’ I doubt I'll ever let him go.

  Before I can figure out where we are, a bunch of strangers in lab coats lurch forward and separate us.