Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  “Don’t be scared,” I told her, hearing my own voice waver.

  Tears moistened Katelyn’s eyes. She doesn’t cry much anymore. I suppose once she’d been through so much pain, she’d learned how to control it to some degree. For her to cry now startled me.

  “Katelyn, what’s wrong?”

  “Don’t go,” she said.

  I knelt beside her and hugged her tiny bald head into my chest. Her pounding heart filled my ears. “I’ll be fine,” I whispered to her.

  “What if you aren’t? What if they take you?”

  “They won’t. They don’t even know about my Shine.”

  “But what if they found out? What if someone told them?”

  “Who? The only people who know are you and Mom and Dad.”

  “And Naomi,” she added. “And probably some other people. Don’t go. Please?”

  I pulled away from her. For the second time tonight, I had to say something I didn’t want to. “My friend is out there. And the police won’t help anymore. Someone has to.”

  “But why does it have to be you?”

  She had a good point. But I knew the answer. “Because no one else will.”

  “Naomi will.”

  “But she’s only one person. Don’t worry, little sis. I’ll be back in time for breakfast. Bacon with chocolate syrup?”

  A half-smile lit her face. “Okay.”

  I grabbed my black NYU hoodie before leaving the condo. I’d debated on changing, but I needed every second I could get. I got a few stares on the subway, but New Yorkers are used to seeing worse. I kept my knife tucked in my skirt until I reached Central Park.

  Dark tree branches stretched overhead as I made my way down the gravel path. My boots crunched over loose stones. The damp smell of spring clung to the air. I expected to hear quiet conversations or the whistling of night birds, but the area remained silent.

  The stillness unnerved me. I’d become too accustomed to the sounds of beating hearts. Where was everyone? Had the storm scared them off? If so, then where were Naomi and the Revens? Surely they wouldn’t let the storm get in their way. I strained to hear anything besides the beating of my own heart.

  Streetlamps illuminated the path. Moths danced in the light, their fluttering wings matching my heartbeat.

  I hugged my arms around my chest, thankful I’d grabbed my hoodie. Overhead, streaks of lightning crackled through the clouds, making them blossom with shades of pink and mahogany. Thunder rumbled, reminding me of a growl.

  Why didn’t I hear anything? I should have at least heard heartbeats. I reached for my phone when the bushes rustled.

  I spun around.

  Nothing.

  I stepped closer to the thicket. The streetlamps failed to illuminate the path cutting through the dense vegetation. I crouched down, trying to see through the leaves.

  A dark liquid dripped from a leaf and pooled on the ground. Stepping closer, I smelled it. Blood.

  It smeared the ground. Leaves scraped my arms as I trudged deeper into the bushes. My heart pattered with each step I took. Fear sped my movements as I followed the trail of blood. A drop here. A smear across the grass there.

  I heard heartbeats. How many? Four? Five?

  I stopped.

  An earring lay on the ground. A coral, feather earring.

  Trickling water came from up ahead. I followed the sound until I found a fountain.

  Sara sat tied and gagged in front of the base. Blood smeared her face and matted her hair. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

  The beating hearts grew deafening. I spun around. Three black forms dropped from the trees.

  Revens use psychological fear to their advantage. They hide their faces, use code names, fight like demons. This group was no exception. They wore paintball masks covered with black and red spray paint. Silver spikes studded their leather pants and jackets. Their serrated blades looked sharp enough to split bone.

  Adrenaline pumped through their blood. They wanted the kill.

  But they weren’t taking anyone tonight.

  I yanked my knife from my boot and lunged at the closest Reven. Thick chains dangled from his pants. They jangled as I planted my knife in his leg. He didn’t have time to react. I wouldn’t get another chance like that.

  I severed a few veins and stayed away from the major arteries. I didn’t want to kill the guy, but that cut would hurt like hell.

  His chains clattered as he shrieked and fell back. As I pulled my knife free, his buddy landed a kick in my ribs. I stumbled, hitting the ground hard. My ears buzzed with the impact, disorienting me.

  The Reven loomed over me. He held a knife in each hand. I spotted a couple more tucked inside his boots. I couldn’t let this guy get away. With that many knives, he’d have me cut down in no time.

  He lunged for me, his knife aimed for my throat, but I kicked his shins. Bone crunched under my boot.

  His scream split the air as his knives clattered to the ground.

  I scrambled upright when the third Reven struck. He moved light on his feet, as if he’d been trained in boxing or martial arts. His dagger gleamed in the streetlamps.

  I gripped my knife’s handle, sweat slick on my palms. The guy laughed before he dove at me. He grabbed at my waist, but I darted back and slashed his hand. His laugh turned to a growl.

  He pounced with the nimbleness of a cat. He thrust his weapon at me. He aimed for my chest, but I ducked away. He nicked my collar bone instead.

  Warm blood oozed from the wound. The pain didn’t register.

  I dodged another attack, and then slammed my foot into his back. He stumbled but didn’t fall.

  Tough sucker.

  He struck at my throat. I darted away, but he caught my wrist. He sliced my arm.

  The adrenaline couldn’t mask the pain this time. I wriggled free of his grasp. His rasping laugh grated my nerves. I clutched my bleeding arm, the blood sticky on my fingertips. I felt it trickling out. It wouldn’t kill me, but it didn’t have to. He’d slowed me down.

  This little dance needed to end. A few more cuts like that and I’d lose my strength, then consciousness.

  The guy struck at me, eyes like firelight behind his mask.

  I darted from his blade, and then thrust mine into his leg. My blade landed inches from the guy’s femoral. I hadn’t meant to cut it that close.

  He cursed and dropped his knife. His knees struck the ground. I kicked his weapon away. It clattered across the gravel path. I stuck my foot square in his chest and flattened him to the ground.

  “Get out of here. Leave us alone. Understand?”

  He didn’t respond. I kicked him in the gut. He doubled over.

  “Understand?” I repeated.

  I took his muffled cough as a yes.

  Sara sat tied by the pool. I helped her up. She staggered to her feet. I cut the ropes loose and removed the gag. Tears shone in her eyes.

  “You okay?” I asked her.

  She stared at the bodies on the ground.

  “Sara, are you okay?” I repeated louder.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay. Are they dead?”

  “No, but they won’t stay down for long. Let’s go.” She followed as I trotted up the path.

  The wind picked up. Trees creaked overhead. Sara’s heart pattered loud in my ears. She was terrified, and with good reason.

  The path branched. I took the trail shrouded with shadows. Under the creaking limbs, we raced for the park’s exit. If we could get to a cab before those Revens reorganized, we’d be okay.

  “June,” Sara whispered in a breathy voice. “What’s going on?”

  The path curved. I hoped to find Fifth Avenue up ahead, but saw only more of the same shrouded trail.

  “Those ugly freaks are called Revens. They took you because they thought you were Shine material.”

  “Me? But I’m not.”

  I eyed her. With her heart rate already accelerated, I couldn’t detect if she told the truth or n
ot. Honestly, I didn’t want to know.

  Sara tripped. “Ouch,” she said. She limped upright and pulled off her shoe. Her eyes widened with fear when she looked up. She stared behind me.

  I spun around.

  I hadn’t heard him.

  I should’ve heard him.

  Tattoo boy stood in front of me—the same guy I’d fought on the roof. He didn’t wear a mask, which surprised me. His black turtleneck and dark jeans concealed a lean frame corded with muscle. He held no weapons, but with the dangerous look in his eyes, I suspected he didn’t need them.

  “Give her to me and I’ll let you go,” he said in a too-calm voice.

  Good Gandhi—a Reven trying to negotiate? I’d seen it all.

  “She comes with me,” I answered.

  He flexed his fists. Veins bulged beneath dark olive skin. “I’ve warned you.”

  “And I’ve given you my answer.”

  He shrugged, then leapt into the air. He flew faster than I could see. A black rubber-soled boot sailed into my vision and slammed into my chest.

  I flew backward.

  The back of my cranium smacked the ground. I felt as if my skull had been rearranged. I stared at the storm clouds overhead. The world spun around me.

  Voices shouted, though I couldn’t make out the words, as if I stood on the lip of an immense canyon listening to echoes. I tried to push onto my hands and knees, but my body wouldn’t respond.

  I had to save Sara. I had to move.

  I concentrated on breathing.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  The sky stopped dancing.

  Nausea buckled my stomach as I rose onto my hands and knees. Sweat dripped from my forehead.

  “June!” Sara’s voice.

  I searched the area. Where had she gone?

  I listened for heartbeats instead of voices. The sound came to me from a thicket of trees near a stream.

  Somehow I managed to run toward the sound of heartbeats. The bright pink of Sara’s dress stood out in the dim light. Thank goodness for that stupid fashion statement.

  The tattooed freak dragged her away from me.

  I prayed he didn’t see me coming.

  I grabbed my knife tight, then tossed with every ounce of strength left to me. It thudded with a satisfactory thud, implanted deep in his arm. Deltoid tissue. He’d be fine.

  Sara wriggled free of his grasp. She ran as if it were the zombie apocalypse. I didn’t know the girl could run so fast. I should’ve recruited her for the track team.

  Tats twisted around, trying to grab the knife from his shoulder. Dumb move. Removing it would cause more damage, not less. He needed an ER.

  “It’s over,” I told him. “Keep away from Shines. Got it?”

  His eyes met mine. Desperation bled from his dark irises. I’d never seen such a look, such a need. He screamed, and then ran at me.

  Without my knife, I stood defenseless. He would kill me. I felt certain of it.

  Naomi barreled into me. I stumbled as she pushed me aside. She held her knife at the ready when she collided with Tattoos.

  I’d seen Naomi fight on plenty of occasions. She fought like Hercules on steroids. I was glad she was on my side. I wouldn’t go up against her on my best day.

  Tattoos took her down in three seconds.

  Naomi gasped as he gripped her in a headlock and thrust his knife under her chin.

  Insanity glimmered in his eyes. I knew the look, because I’d seen it before. He would kill my friend.

  Frick it all. He was going to kill my friend.

  “Stop,” I yelled.

  Wind whipped his dark hair across his face.

  “Take me,” I said. “Please, don’t do this.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Just don’t hurt her.”

  “You took down three Revens, stole my capture. I think you deserve it.”

  “Then take me. Not her.”

  “June, don’t,” Naomi pleaded.

  “I have to,” I told her.

  Tattoos clenched his knife. Blood seeped from the wound in Naomi’s neck. If he cut an inch deeper he’d open her vena cava. I had to stop him.

  I heard my voice as if from a distance. As if someone else spoke the words and not me. “Take me instead. I’m a Shine.”

  The blade stopped inches from her life’s blood. I exhaled as he focused, as if he saw me for the first time.

  “Shine?” he asked.

  “Yes. That’s what you want, right?”

  Naomi squirmed in Tattoos’s arms. “She’s lying,” she told him. “She’s lying to save my life.”

  “I am not.”

  “Prove it,” he said.

  Thunder boomed, not a distant rolling sound, but a piercing of the eardrums. The storm was coming. No one seemed to notice.

  Wind thrashed at my dress, chilling my exposed legs. “I see the blood pumping through your heart. I can see every vein and artery in your body. Your heart is beating at one-nineteen bpm,” I told him. “Hers is going one-thirty, give or take.”

  “She’s making it up,” Naomi insisted. “Can’t you see that?”

  “Keep talking,” he told me.

  “That knife in your back won’t do any damage as long as you leave it alone.”

  “Anyone knows that.”

  “Then why did you try to rip it out?”

  “Call it a reflex.”

  Naomi twisted around and tried to break free. His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened. “What else?” he asked me.

  “You’ve got a slight heart murmur. More people do than you realize. Most of the time it’s harmless. What else do you want to know?”

  He eyed me. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “No!” Naomi’s fingers turned white as she gripped the guy’s arms. “June, stop. She’s lying. I swear she’s lying to you.”

  “I can also tell that you’re excited, if you catch my meaning.”

  His cheeks flushed. He looked at me as if I’d just caught him with his pants down. Technically, I guess I had.

  “Holy hell,” he said.

  “She’s lying,” Naomi begged. “She’s making it—”

  Tattoos spun Naomi around. He tightened a zip tie around her wrists and shoved her to the ground.

  “Bloody bastard,” she spat.

  “One chance,” he told me. “You come with me. No tricks. No fighting. No escaping. Otherwise, I take your friend. Catch my meaning?”

  Acid burned my throat. I’d never lost before. I’d always beaten them. Losing had never been an option. But what other choice did I have?

  I thought of my sister. I couldn’t leave her. “What will you do with me?”

  “Take you to a facility. Get paid.”

  So this was about money. I loathed him even more. I weighed my options. I could fight, probably get killed. Naomi would die, too.

  I could go with him. I would live. Naomi would live, assuming he kept his promises. “If I go with you, you swear you won’t hurt her?”

  He eyed me. “I swear it.”

  I don’t know why I trusted him. Maybe it was the steady beating of his heart, maybe it was the tone of his voice, maybe it was the look of intensity in his eyes, but I believed him.

  I forced the words out. “Then I promise I’ll go with you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I woke to the sound of shouting. I didn’t remember much about the past couple hours. They’d bound and gagged me. I expected to board a choppercar. Instead they’d taken me to the wharf. They’d found an old clipper ship and tossed me onboard. I’d passed out shortly afterward.

  My head didn’t feel right—like my brain had turned to liquid and was starting to congeal again. I worked my jaw back and forth, trying to loosen it up.

  The shouts grew louder. I focused on the room. The floor rocked back and forth. I heard waves crashing against the walls, so I assumed we’d left the dock. The boat seemed primitive, with only a single kerosene lantern lightin
g the space, a few wooden chairs surrounding a rickety card table, and piles of wooden crates filling the rest of the floor.

  I sat on a cot that had the pungent odor of urine. Ropes burned my wrists and ankles. At least they’d removed the gag.

  Three shadowy forms stood in the doorway. I squinted, trying to get a better look. The bright light streaming through the door pierced my eyes. I shut them tight, and focused on eavesdropping instead.

  “She could have been Shine. Why didn’t you take her?” He spoke with a slight Spanish accent.

  “I already told you why.” That deep, controlled voice. Tattoos.

  “We could’ve had two of them. Double the profits.” This guy spoke with a high-pitched, nasally sound.

  “We’ve got one. That’s more than enough payment for all of us.”

  “But two would have been double the profits! Dios mio, man. What’s wrong with you?”

  I heard the sound of bodies being shoved.

  “Cut it out.” Another voice I didn’t recognize.

  “Will you two stop?”

  The rope on my hands compressed my nerves. Pins and needles shot up my arms. I shifted, trying to work my hands back and forth for some circulation. My knee bumped a wooden crate. It slid backward.

  The voices stopped.

  Beating hearts filled the silence. Four guys on board. I could take them if I weren’t tied up.

  And if I’d never made that promise, I reminded myself.

  Chains clanked as one of the guys walked toward me. I recognized the scrawny guy I’d beaten in the park. He looked better with his mask on. Dirty blond hair hung in matted strands down his face. His Adam’s apple bobbed from his skinny, ostrich neck. Pus oozed from the pimples dotting his flesh.

  His leering smile made my stomach turn with disgust. There was something not quite right with this guy.

  “You woke up,” he said in his nasal voice.

  “Screw you.”

  He crouched close to me. The smell of his rotten breath made me wonder if I would pass out again.

  “Do you want breakfast? I made eggs. And toast. I hope you don’t mind real butter. I’m sure you’re watching your weight.”

  What was that supposed to mean?