by Amy Freeman
Sam rose to her feet. “It’s okay. I’ll walk you out.”
The tension in the air was palpable. Trin’s furious energy saturated the room and she knew that would only make Erika feel worse. She guided Erika out the door, glancing at Trin on the way out. He stood rigid by the bed, his sculpted arms folded across his broad bare chest, glaring at the wall.
Sam walked Erika through the front room and out the door. By the time they reached her car, Erika was in tears.
Sam hugged her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I feel so stupid,” she sobbed. “This isn’t how he really is. He never means to do it, and he always feels so badly after. He says he couldn’t handle it if I left. I can’t just abandon him...he needs me.”
Sam heard the words but couldn’t believe them. Needed her for what—a punching bag? Sam pulled back, eyes on Erika, feeling totally helpless. She knew anything she said would fall on deaf ears.
“Trin thinks I’m an idiot.”
“He doesn’t think that at all. He is worried sick about you.”
“He’s furious in there,” Erika said.
“He’s not furious with you. He’s furious with the situation.”
She paused. “Trin feels helpless,” she said. “This is something he can’t stand to see. It’s like his thing...to protect...everyone,” she stammered. A hand flew to her forehead. What was she saying?
Erika wiped tears from her eyes. “You’re so lucky,” she whispered. “Trin is amazing. There is just something about him.”
Sam nodded. You have no idea. She put a hand on Erika’s arm. “He is,” she said. “But it isn’t luck. Everyone deserves that. You aren’t responsible for Ryan. He will never stop as long as you make excuses for him. If you really want to help him, get away from him. Let him see what he has become before it’s too late. This is only going to get worse. He is really going to hurt you ...or worse.”
Erika glanced at the ground. “I gotta go,” she said. “Thanks for listening.”
“What are you going to do?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I came here to check on you.”
“I will be fine,” Sam said. “You take care of you, please, and if there’s anything I can do to help you let me know.”
Erika climbed into her car. “I will.” She shut the door, started the car, and drove away.
“No, you won’t,” Sam said. She turned and went back inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Sam’s life had shifted dramatically, everything changing overnight. Within the confines of one surreal conversation Sam had gone from college student to ‘Veduny Oracle’—whatever that meant—and she still could barely conceive of who the Veduny were.
Telling Anna had been interesting. Sam was still having a difficult time believing it herself. But Anna was not surprised at all. It explained a lot about Sam. To her it all fit perfectly.
Immediately following their conversation in Trin’s room Anvil had counseled Trin to start preparing Sam with the promise he would return as soon as he had any new information. Trin had stayed with Sam that night, holding her while she slept. He hardly slept at all.
Now they stood face to face in the gymnasium like two Kung Fu masters. Tall and formidable in black warm-up pants and a Ute swim team T-shirt, Trin looked her in the eyes. “Okay” he said, “hit me.”
Wondering how she was going to beat someone five times her size, she went over the first bits of instruction he had given. She threw a punch in his direction and found herself over his back and colliding with the mat, unable to recount how it had even happened. She blinked in shock as he reached down, taking her hand. “Okay,” he said, helping her up. “Now you.”
Sam stared, looking at him like he was insane.
“Come on, Sam,” he said. “You can’t keep fighting me on this. As of yesterday afternoon, we don’t have time.”
She rolled her eyes. “All right,” she said. “You’re just so much bigger than me.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “That isn’t why I win. I can give you the proper technique but you have to get past the physical and use what’s in here to get me on the floor,” he said, with a hand to his heart. “Your spirit is stronger than my physical body.” Sam heaved a sigh glancing aside.
Trin paused a moment. “It’s a lot like a dance, Sam,” he said. “Try to think of it that way.” He moved in front of her. “Pretend you’re dancing with me. It’s a dance, okay?”
Sam shrugged, taking position.
“When I come at you, move with me the way I showed you as if it were choreographed.” She shrugged. “Okay.”
“I’m not coming at you fast this time. I want you to get the technique so just roll with the motion.”
Sam nodded. She placed her feet, took a deep breath, and focused. He came at her. Grabbing his arm she pulled it toward her, going through the motions. To her surprise, he went over her shoulder landing with a loud smack on the mat in front of her.
He glanced up at her from the floor with a victorious grin. “Not bad.”
She shrugged with a sheepish smile. Trin rolled forward in elegant grace and stood. “Told you.”
Sam smirked. “Going through the motions and actually taking you down are two totally different things.”
“Right, but it’s the same concept.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Trin watched her, studying for a moment. A barely distinguishable glint of light crossed his eyes. “Okay, let’s go again,” he said. “Just go through the motions.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said. She took her stance.
A fierce roar exploded from somewhere. Before Sam realized it was coming from Trin she found herself nicely dodging a perfectly executed lethal roundhouse kick.
An elevating state of panic incited the blocking of several forward punches to her solar plexus. Her eyes shot to his where she found no mercy. He was fighting her. But even more astounding, he hadn’t hit her yet. Deadly strikes and kicks kept coming as she blocked and dodged every one.
Trin’s eyes flared like blue fire. “Quit dodging me! Beat me!”
Sam’s whole psyche spun. Fight or flight kicked in and the hits kept coming, harder, faster, his body like iron. Something clicked, shifted, and her fear turned to rage. With his next punch she grabbed him, drew him in, and tossed him over her back and onto the floor. Eyes wide, she stepped back, staring at her hands, then at Trin’s enormous frame on the mat. He stared back at her through labored breath, a glint in his eye. “You use anger,” he said.
She stood above him, dumbfounded.
“I knew it was in there,” he said, a smile fighting the corners of his mouth. “Don’t ever make me do that again.”
Sam nodded, speechless.
He rolled up to his feet, leaned in, and pressed his lips against hers, soft, warm, leaving a salty trace of enticement, his masculine scent filling her nostrils. He took his stance, seductive light eyes glittering through dampened wisps of sun kissed hair. “Now,” he said, “hit me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
T hey worked through the afternoon, focusing on technique, maneuvering, and mental awareness. He led her through meditative movement, alongside him and sometimes with him, teaching her to use the energy around and within her, reminding her this was something she already knew how to do.
Sam was beginning to fade.
“You’ve had enough,” Trin said. “You’re doing great.” He took her hand. “Try to remember, it’s already in there.”
Sam exhaled. “I’m trying,” she said. She glanced up at him. “Why aren’t you teaching me your Jedi mind tricks? I’m pretty sure I can’t just ‘move with what comes and get out of the way’ with whatever is after me.”
“This training is for the mind,” he said. “Martial art training is one of the easiest ways to harness the power of the mind. Like I said earlier, you can’t do anyth
ing spectacular physically until you have it right within the mind. Your mind and spirit are one and the same. You didn’t suddenly become stronger when you took me down,” he said. “You changed your concept of it here,” he put a finger to her head, “and here.” He moved his finger over her heart. “You accepted that you could. That’s where the power comes from.”
She lowered her gaze, trying to stave off the intense reaction to his touch.
“Sit down,” he said.
She lowered herself to the floor, Trin following suit.
“Follow my lead.”
“What do you mean?”
He sat erect, closing his eyes. “Just relax and do what I tell you.”
“Yes sir,” she saluted.
He tossed her a steely sideward glance, an electric blue reprimand that dismantled her instantly.
Once she recovered she sighed and did as she was told. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice, a low, gentle cadence; vibration soothing, deep, and unintentionally provocative. She inhaled, a slow, steady intake narrowing the back of her throat as he had taught her. Her breathing deepened, drawing out as the minutes passed. She felt the tension leaving her muscles, relaxing; slipping from her neck, shoulders, and jaw, surrendering to the solitude. Her lungs filled and emptied rhythmically as she allowed her whole psyche to breathe, floating in marked stillness; her mind clear...silence.
An image formed in the distance, calming her to the point of sedation, hovering peacefully as a figure manifested. She drifted in stillness. She could no longer hear Trin’s voice or any other sound. The image grew clearer. Breathing deeply, every detail came into view, locking in place, the solid object hung, sleeping in the darkness. An ancient hieroglyph carved in stone, coated in luminescent golden blue. She did not recognize the image, but felt no threat.
The light glowed around the stone symbol with a constant hum, then blinked out, disappearing, leaving a raw, unprotected image in its place.
A nauseating sensation washed over her, growing, intensifying as seconds passed. She attempted to open her eyes to escape the disturbing event and found she couldn’t. She could not move. Panic sprang, rising in her throat. She tried to cry out. No sound. Her greatest protector sat inches from her and she could not secure his help. Toxicity grew, violent nausea wracking her.
Trin...
Poisonous energy spilled out all around her, flooding her skin, saturating her core. Bile curdled in the pit of her stomach. The symbol’s surface cracked. A thundering vibration rumbling as splintered lines fractured the image, brilliant golden blue seeping through each fissure. The cracks widened, more light spilling through, and with a deafening blast the image shattered. Toxic light flooded the space, and encased in its menacing glow, the face of the monster.
TRIN!
He jolted as the sound of his name crashed into him. Abandoning the meditation, he moved to go to her aid, but something else happened instead. Before he could instigate a single act on his own he found himself surrounded by darkness, disoriented. Something had control of him. He hadn’t left the meditation; he had gone deeper into it.
Distorted light came at him from every direction—the light of Veduny royalty, but it felt all wrong, emanating a sinister, toxic element. As if standing before the very gates of hell, a solid wall of horror and despair wrapped him in a physical attack. He had never encountered evil like this. Hunched over in pain, every muscle tensed. Focus filtered through every vein, every cell and a bright white heat erupted around him. Brilliant light broke out against the poison, clearing a path for him to move through it and freeing up his line of sight where he found Sam on her knees doubled over, retching.
“Sam!” Racing to her side he caught her up in his arms, desperately trying to shield her from the all-consuming poison.
“Trin...” she begged between heaves.
Confounded, he realized what was happening. “Sam! You can control this! Get us out of it!” No response. She heaved forward. Trin locked his muscular arms around her, pressing his massive chest into her back as a shield and burying his face into her neck. Fury rose through him like fire at his inability to help her. The growing weakness spreading through her body washed into him. He could feel her defenses fading, as if he were experiencing her death. Raising a lethal gaze to the invisible enemy his command thundered through the insidious hell. “You can’t have her!” His gaze dropped to Sam. “Free yourself, Sam! You can control this!”
She looked up at him in helpless confusion, past the ability to fight. Lifting a trembling hand she pointed toward the light.
He followed her finger, seeing nothing but toxic Veduny light and shattered shards of stone scattered everywhere. “What, Sam?” he begged. “I don’t see anything. What is it?”
She lifted her eyes to the light and he knew she could see something he couldn’t. He glanced around, eyes darting furiously about searching for something. He turned to Sam. “Sam! Give me a knife...a sword, a blade, anything sharp!”
She was too weak even to look at him.
“We are in your mind, Sam! Create a sharp object!”
He watched her try, and fail. She had nothing left. She collapsed forward weeping in helplessness. Searing heat of immeasurable rage shot up his body. Eyes scanning through the crippling light, he reached for a remnant of the shattered stone image raking its jagged tip across his left forearm. Blood spilled from the wound.
The environment jarred, fizzling, trembling, retreating. Bracing her back, Trin pushed her shirt up, exposing her midriff and thrust his wounded arm underneath her, pressing it against her skin.
The warm, crimson liquid erupted into light on contact engulfing her body in golden blue. The poison vanished. Sam rose up; inhaling the decontaminated air. She was free.
CHAPTER THIRTY
S am’s eyes flew open, gasping. The high ceiling of the gymnasium filled her view as muscular arms devoured her in an unyielding embrace. He refused to let go, holding so tightly she found it hard to breathe.
“Trin...” she squeaked.
He loosened his grip but not by much. Catching his breath he peeled his forearm away from her back looking for a wound to heal and found it, seeping through the fabric of her shirt with warm moisture. It had followed him out of her mind into physical reality. Sam twisted around catching sight of his arm and gasped. “Trin,”
“It’s okay,” he said. Brilliant energy lit his irises and the wound closed as if it had never existed at all. Sam gaped, staring in disbelief at his perfect forearm. She lifted her eyes to his in astonishment, but as she tried to speak he stood, taking her hands, pulling her to her feet. “What was that Sam?” he said. “What did you see?” She shook her head. “Didn’t you see it? The same thing I always see,” she said. “The same...horrible face.” Helpless disbelief filled Trin’s eyes as the unthinkable formed into reality. “It can’t be...” he whispered under his breath. “What?” Sam begged.
He looked her in the eyes. “We need to talk to Mikhail.”
Trin stood before Anvil in Sam’s bedroom. “We have a problem.” Anvil stared, an inscrutable look on his face. Trin took a step forward, eyes flashing as steel. “Is there anything I should know about that I don’t?”
“What happened, Trinton?” Anvil asked.
Trin shook his head with a glance toward Sam on the bed. He walked over and sat down on the edge. “I was training her,” he said, “teaching her Systema and meditation. During the meditation she saw an image, a symbol in stone, covered in Veduny light. Then it exploded, leaving an image of the person she keeps seeing.” Trin looked up, eyes hard. “I’ve never felt anything like this,” he said. “I know who it is.”
“You saw it as well?”
“Sam pulled me into her mind.”
Anvil stared, stunned. He turned, moving toward the window. “That ability predates...”
Trin nodded before Anvil could finish. Anvil looked back at him. “Are you sure of what you felt, Trinton?” Trin nodded. “Only Sam
could see him, but I felt him,” he said. “ Chernobog is hunting Sam.”
“Stay here,” Anvil said, and vanished. Trin moved up the bed toward Sam, putting an arm around her.
“What did he mean?” she asked. “What ability predates what?”
Trin lowered his gaze. “Certain abilities were lost when Anavi was killed. The ability to communicate telepathically no matter the distance, have multiple conversations in our minds with several individuals at once, and bringing each other into our minds through meditation.” He looked up at her. “None of us can do that anymore. Not since Anavi’s death.”
Sam stared. “What does that mean?”
Trin shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Sam was quiet for a moment. “Who is Mikhail?”
“He’s the Head Elder of our tribe. If anyone knows anything about this it will be him.”
Anvil returned. “Mikhail has requested to speak to you both in person.”
Trin looked at Anvil. “We can’t wait that long,” he said. “Even if he were to get on a plane right now...”
“He isn’t coming here,” Anvil replied. “He wants you to go to him.”
Trin’s expression begged for an explanation.
“He wants Samantha to bring you into her mind. He wants to see if he can join you there. Somehow Samantha has reclaimed a lost ability; a powerful one. Mikhail wants to see it.”
Sam glanced down, terrified. “I can’t go through that again.”
Anvil walked over to Sam. “When you went into your meditation with Trinton today, what did you focus on?”
“Nothing,” Sam answered. “Trin said to clear my mind.” Anvil squatted down next to the bed where Sam sat. “If you are seeing who Trinton thinks you are seeing he isn’t human. He only exists in spirit form, which means he can only attack you if you are open to him. I want you to go into a meditation, but this time use a focal point. Do this every time you meditate. Focus on something positive and calming, something that gives you peace. In this instance, let it be Trinton. Sam looked at him in desperation. “What if it doesn’t work?” she whispered.