Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  “That was salty, man. I’m done.” The blond man started to walk away.

  “You’re part of this now.” The man with mismatched eyes pulled a knife from his pocket. The blond’s eyes widened. “What are you scared of? She hasn’t done anything yet.”

  He turned his attention to her while the blond rubbed his cheek.

  “What’s your Shine? Huh? Come on, little girl, Shine for us.” He pulled a tablet from his pocket. “Let’s see some Shine action. I’ll put it up on YouView.”

  His brain pulsed with delight, his pleasure center feeding off her terror. She thought he was less interested in posting the video than watching it himself. It wasn’t her Shine that excited him most—it was the excuse to hurt her.

  He tapped the tablet and held it up. “Come on. Shine for us.”

  The stubbled man shook her. “Let’s see what you can do. Come on. Make me let go of you. If you can.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m not one. I can’t do anything. Please let me go.”

  “Maybe she needs convincing. Here, Blondie, you film. Since you’re scared of little girls.” He handed off the tablet, then lifted the knife to her face. “I said let’s see some Shine.”

  She gasped. His eyes gleamed with the malice she felt sparking through his brain. She glanced at the knife, watching him creep closer, trying not to imagine what he might do with it. She looked to the other men, hoping their better natures might stir them to do something.

  They both shrugged and neither moved to intervene. Maybe she could give them a nudge, win them over. Before this lunatic went to work on her.

  She pushed aside her fear and focused on the blond man, the seemingly nicest of the three. He apparently realized what she was doing even before her tendril reached his skull.

  “Oh, Gandhi. She’s doing something. I think she’s gonna Shine!”

  She pushed harder, concentrating with all her might. Convincing this man to help her might be her only chance. She didn’t see any other way out.

  His brain was riddled with fear. His amygdala released the signal for adrenaline. The excess flickers and convoluted patterns complicated her navigation process. She needed to locate just the right spot…

  “Oh!” the blond gasped.

  Razor. She found it. Careful strokes seemed prudent. A big, overwhelming burst of good feelings might completely unhinge this guy.

  The blond’s eyes glazed over. He appeared mesmerized. No telling what sort of compounding effects her Shine would cause in conjunction with his inebriated state.

  “I knew we had us a Shine,” the deviant said. “What the hell you doing to him? That some kind of torture?” His brain lit up at the thought.

  “No, I’m not hurting him. Please, I Shined for you. Let me go now.” She twisted against her captor’s grip, but he held fast.

  “No, we’re not gonna let you go, sweetheart.” He stepped over to the blond. “What she do to you?”

  The blond shook his head as if to clear it. “I don’t know. I just felt really good for a minute. I felt like she…” He stared at her. She thought she finally saw compassion in the man’s eyes. “Maybe we should let her go. She’s just a girl.”

  “She’s not just a girl. She’s a flicking Shine! Sounds like she cast a spell on you. You some kinda witch, Shine?”

  The man’s brain resembled a carnival, lights flickering, zipping across his churning pleasure center. He would never let her go, she realized. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “No,” she whispered, knowing nothing she said would change this man’s mind. He intended to hurt someone tonight. The suffering of others made him feel good.

  “You sound like a witch. You guys remember what people used to do to witches?”

  Neither the stubbled man nor the blond said anything. They both looked away.

  “They set them on fire.”

  Before she knew what was happening, the leader grabbed her and yanked her toward the fire. He pushed her face closer. The heat from the flames engulfed her.

  He meant to burn her.

  “Oh, Gandhi, no. Please,” she whimpered, struggling to escape his grip.

  His pleasure center radiated like a beacon.

  “We used to burn witches. And what are Shines but the second coming of witches? Some of us won’t stand for this evil.”

  Arm wrapped around her, he forced her forward, shoving her closer until she stood directly beside the fifty-gallon drum. The fire popped. When she jumped, another jolt of pleasure surged through him.

  “Not so tough now, are you, little Shine?”

  “I just want to go home. Please.”

  He lifted her arm, forcing her hand over the flames. The heat was intense, but still bearable. She knew she shouldn’t beg, knew it would only further delight him. But she couldn’t stop herself.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “You’d better be filming this, Blondie, or you’re next.”

  “I’m filming,” the blond replied, his voice low. Sorrow and regret clouded his mind. She could tell that he didn’t like this, but felt powerless to stop it.

  “Now would be a good time to zoom,” the leader said.

  And he thrust her hand into the flames.

  CHAPTER 7

  Searing pain licked her hand and shot up her arm. She heard a hissing sound at the same time the scent of burning flesh reached her nose.

  The deviant grinned and relaxed his hold on her. She yanked her hand from the flames. The pounding of her pulse throbbed within the burned skin. Her vision blurred. No coherent thought assembled in her brain.

  But she still sensed the burst of white light streaming through her captor’s mind. He was delirious with pleasure at the pain he caused her.

  She tried not to cry, but the fiery sensation proved too much. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Flick, man. I thought you were just messing with her. I didn’t think you’d really do it.” The stubbled man’s voice sounded distant.

  The next moment she heard a grunt. The deviant released her.

  “What is this?” he yelled.

  She fell to the ground, cradling her burned hand, rocking back and forth, weeping in agony. The pain surpassed anything she’d ever imagined, much less experienced.

  She was dimly aware of yelling, grunting, sounds of a struggle. Had the blond man finally decided to help her? Why hadn’t he intervened a minute earlier?

  “Gandhi! I can’t see!” That was the blond’s voice. He sounded terrified. Probably not leading a rescue mission.

  She thought she heard a girl’s voice. Or maybe more than one. She tried to raise herself up to see what it was. Excruciating pain shot through her, so debilitating she hunched over and retched.

  Through the hazy confusion, she heard shouting and cursing. And girls’ voices.

  She tried again to sit up and focus. Without success. Her vision blurred before clouding to black. She pitched forward, barely aware of the sand flying into her face.

  *****

  When Cassie awoke, she was on her back but had no idea where she was or what was happening. Her throbbing hand reminded her of the horrific string of events. She was aware of movement around her and kept her eyes tightly shut, afraid of what she might see. Exhausted and injured, she mustered as much energy as she could to scan. Nothing alarming, so far as she could tell. In fact, unless she was mistaken, she thought she felt compassion—a rare encounter for her these days.

  “Winter, look at her hand,” a female voice said. “Good Gandhi. They burned her.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” another voice answered.

  “Can you cool the burned skin?” the first voice asked.

  “Of course, but that won’t stop the pain or heal her. She needs medical attention.”

  “I know that. Just do what you can for now.”

  Reassured by her scan and the suggestion of help, she slowly opened her eyes.

  Three shadows bent low over her.

  “Goo
d timing,” the second voice said. “I’m going to cool your hand. I need you to tell me when it feels better. If it feels better.”

  Before she had time to even consider objecting, the scorching heat in her hand subsided.

  “That’s…that’s better,” she choked. Sand coated the inside of her mouth. She tried to push the grit out, but her tongue was dry and ineffective.

  “You’re Cassandra, aren’t you?” the first voice asked.

  Hearing a stranger speak her name startled her, until she remembered the newscast spreading her name and photo everywhere. She cast out feelers again but found no fear, no alarm. The minds surrounding her were calm and quiet, humming only with concern.

  Unlike the men…Her mind whirled as she remembered the threat.

  “Where…are the men? They…”

  “Don’t worry. We took care of them. They won’t hurt you again.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Friends.”

  “Then…call me Cassie. Please. Cassandra is my registered Shine name.”

  “We understand. I’m Shade. Not my registered name either.”

  “I’m Winter,” the owner of the second voice said. “I wish I could do more than cool your hand. All I did was make the cells exothermic, sorta like putting an ice pack on it. It’s only temporary, and I can’t make the pain go away.”

  “It feels a bit better, though. Can you take more heat away?”

  “I don’t feel comfortable doing that. I could accidentally freeze your hand. If that happens…” The girl’s voice trailed away. “But I can reapply as it wears off. A little at a time is fine.”

  “Cain can help with the pain,” Shade said.

  Finally the third girl spoke. “No, my control isn’t that fine-tuned. Look what I did to that guy.”

  “So what? He deserved worse.”

  Cassie turned her head, slowly, hoping not to inflame the burning in her hand.

  The scruffy man stood still, arms crossed over his torso, shivering and either too cold or too stunned to move.

  “That’s what happens if I blast someone really good, all over,” Winter said.

  The blond man stood rooted to one spot, eyes glazed, hands groping the air around him.

  “I can’t see. I can’t see. I can’t see,” he murmured.

  She heard the panic in his voice but felt no sympathy. “You turned the blond man into a blind man.”

  The other girls laughed.

  “No, no,” Cain said. “Shade did that. Mine is on the ground.”

  Twisting her head slightly, she saw the man with mismatched eyes sprawled flat on his back. He didn’t move.

  “Is he…did you…” She couldn’t form the words.

  “Nah. Just knocked him unconscious. He’ll be fine. Unlike you.”

  “How did you do that? Is your Shine super strength?”

  Cain laughed. “No, definitely not.”

  “You just need some self-defense classes. We’ll get you signed up,” Shade said.

  “What did you do to him? What’s your Shine?”

  “We can talk about that later. Right now we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”

  “I think so.” She wasn’t sure but getting out of there sounded good. “Where are we going? Where are you taking me?”

  “Someplace we can help you,” Shade answered. “Cain, you take one side. Winter, you get the other. Let’s make sure she’s steady on her feet.”

  Each girl grabbed an arm.

  “Easy, Cassie. Sit up slowly. And don’t move that hand.”

  She rose slowly, as directed, but debilitating, nausea-inducing pain shot through her again, radiating from her hand. She leaned back and moaned.

  “Cain, you need to help her. The pain is too much,” Shade said.

  “What if I knock her out?”

  “You won’t. I know you won’t.”

  “But if I do?”

  “She’ll be better off asleep than in utter agony.”

  Cain closed her eyes. “You see things so black and white.”

  “You can help. Do it. Nothing gray in that equation,” Shade said.

  “Cassie, are you okay with this?”

  “Please,” she managed through clenched teeth. “Anything you can do.”

  Cain nodded and leaned toward her. The girl’s eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.

  She felt a gentle probe pressing against the wall of pain, followed a moment later by a tidal wave of relief that flooded through her, a warm, soothing release. The pain subsided and her stomach unclenched.

  “I’m interrupting the synapses between your pain receptors and nervous system signals. If I’m in the right place. If I interrupt the wrong synapses, I could cause some serious physical damage. Or knock you out completely.”

  “The pain is going away.” She took a deep breath and wished she could sleep. Or better yet, wake up and discover this was all a nightmare.

  What would happen to her hand? Would it heal? No time to worry about that now. They needed to get someplace safe before the choppercars found them.

  She managed sitting up, but as soon as she stood, darkness clouded her vision and she fell backwards. Sturdy hands caught her.

  “Okay, girls, cradle carry,” Shade instructed.

  Winter and Cain clasped hands behind her back and legs and scooped her off the ground.

  “Shade, you're watching for trouble?” Cain asked.

  “Definitely. Anyone who crosses our path better play nice. Things get salty, I'll drop them to the ground.”

  Cassie wished her Shine was useful like that. And that she felt as confident using it. These girls didn't seem embarrassed or ashamed about their Shines. Cain and Winter were a little less sure in theirs, but not ashamed.

  In the distance, Cassie saw a smoke cloud billowing from the apartment complex. She hoped Derrick was okay. And Nero. If they took Derrick into custody, who would take care of Nero?

  “I hope no one was hurt in the fire,” she told the girls through gritted teeth. Another wave of pain exploded from her hand. “I swear I didn't cause it.”

  “We know you didn't, so don't worry about that,” Cain said.

  “You sound so sure.” As much as she wanted to believe it, even she wasn't completely convinced.

  “We don't believe any of that chainmail about Shines causing explosions.”

  “Why?”

  “Cuz the place we're taking you—where we live—we Shine every day. And nothing ever blows up.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Cassie remembered very little after the girls helped her into a minivan parked a few blocks from the beach. The black vehicle blended into the surroundings and easily could have belonged to any soccer mom. Not quite what she expected her rescuers to be driving.

  Cain and Winter treated her again, and she drifted into a semi-conscious state for the drive. She was aware of twists and turns and of fewer and fewer lights, indicating they'd left the city behind.

  When the van pulled to a stop, the girls helped her out of it. She was glad for the help—pain pulsed through her hand and radiated up her arm. At least this time she didn't retch.

  She studied the building in front of her. It appeared to be a church. No street lights lined the road, but the first feeble traces of an amber glow lit the horizon, and she could see dark stained-glass windows in the brick building.

  Rising from the peak of the roof, a spire stretched toward the sky, topped with a single light.

  “Welcome,” Shade said, “to Shine Your Light.”

  Cassie shuffled inside on weak limbs. Podiums graced a raised platform facing rows and rows of pews. Instead of a congregation knelt in prayer, they were met by dozens of curious eyes.

  “We found her,” Shade announced.

  If she hoped to quiet the group, her attempt failed entirely. The murmuring crowd pressed closer, growing larger and louder as more girls joined the crush.

  The readings battered her. They flowed readily from curious minds, al
l eager to meet her.

  “They're all Shines,” she murmured to Winter, fighting the anxiety this surge of readings sparked.

  Winter squeezed her arm. “You'll be fine. We're all friends here.”

  “I'd call this our first successful search and rescue.” Shade raised her voice to be heard over the din, then lifted her fist in triumph.

  Fists rose throughout the crowd, followed by a smattering of applause and enthusiastic whoops of approval.

  “All right, girls, let's not get cocky.”

  Cassie's head snapped toward the new voice penetrating the crowd. She knew that voice all too well. It inflamed the anxiety clawing at her chest and erased Winter's reassurance that everyone here was a friend.

  The crowd of girls parted, forming a path for the woman attempting to settle them. The lithe figure strode closer, deep red lips curling into a smile. Platinum blonde hair framed vivid blue eyes that homed in on her.

  She stared in disbelief at Kimberly Klein.

  Then her vision blurred, the world tipped sideways, and she pitched forward onto the floor.

  *****

  She regained consciousness slowly. First sounds—soft voices, soft beeping, soft humming. Soft blankets enveloped her. When she opened her eyes, she stared at the ceiling, flat on her back.

  She felt warm and light. The warmth spread from her chest and radiated out all the way to her fingers and toes. Ease and contentment bubbled up into a giggle.

  She'd never felt so relaxed. She stretched her toes and snuggled under the blankets, content to give in to the drooping eyes urging her to go back to sleep.

  When she slept, she didn't hurt.

  Hurt. A thought fought its way to the surface of her muddled mind. She should hurt. But her hand no longer throbbed.

  She tried to sit up but found her wrists bound by restraints. Her first impulse was to claw them off, even though she knew that was impossible. She strained against the straps securing her to the bed railing.

  One of the machines by her head beeped loudly, the intermittent pulses pinging closer and closer together as her panic rose.

  Unable to free herself, she studied her injured hand, now heavily bandaged, as voices grew louder and footsteps pounded the floor.

  She caught a glimpse of Ms. Klein and renewed her attempts to free herself.