The Akasha Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set: The Complete Emily Adams Series

by Natalie Wright

  After a few seconds, I said, “Well? What gives?”

  “You’re not much for formalities, are you? No offer for tea or coffee?”

  “We’re way past formalities. Just tell me why you’d deign to honor a lowly plebe with your presence and be on your way.”

  “Geesh, no need to get bitchy at me.”

  “No, that’s your job.”

  “I see you’re as unpleasant as always.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Dammit, you’re making this harder than it has to be! For God’s sake, I’m trying to talk to you. To make … a proposal.”

  “Proposal?”

  “Is there an echo in here? Yes, a proposal.”

  It didn’t seem like she had tried very hard not to insult me.

  “What kind of proposal?”

  “I propose that we … work together.”

  “You and I?”

  “I don’t see anyone else here. Are you always this slow? Or did Ciardha’s Dark Energy bolts fry your brain?”

  “Gee, Greta, I see that your typical bitchy attitude toward me hasn’t changed. I’m not going to voluntarily subject myself to your acidic tongue. So to answer your question, how about no. And just to be clear, hell no.”

  I could see her suck in a deep breath like she was trying to keep herself from losing her shit at me.

  “I’m … sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s that … well, I guess old habits die hard.”

  Greta Hoffman apologized to me? I wondered if I was in a dream, or maybe I’d phase shifted to an alternate dimension without realizing it. Or maybe someone sent her to me – put her up to something. I couldn’t trust anyone. Least of all Greta.

  But her aura was bright and clear. Not a spot to be seen. She friggin’ glowed pink like she had when we’d first gone to the Umbra Perdita.

  “Greta, why are you really here?”

  “It’s simple. I want my old life back. I want to go to school and not look like I just stepped out of Cheap-o-Mart. I want to cheer at football games with my friends on Fridays and go to parties. And when I go home, I don’t want to be stuck in lockdown with my parents anymore. I want to graduate this year, and go to college, and meet the man of my dreams, and work as a television journalist, and have two kids, a boy and a girl, and …”

  Greta had tears in her eyes.

  “I want things back to the way they were. And in order to make that happen, we need to get your friend Brighid out of that prison.”

  “I recall that when we last saw each other, you made it clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

  When we were spit out of the Umbra Perdita and landed in the cemetery, Greta stormed off and refused to work with me. What had changed?

  “I was … wrong. I cannot fight this evil alone. And you’re the one that got us into this; it should be you that gets us out.”

  There it was. The blame game. I was surprised it had taken her that long to throw it up in my face.

  “Greta, I’ve already admitted to you – and Jake – that it was my fault. And I’ve tried everything I can think of to get things back to the way they were before. But …”

  “Well, whatever you’ve been doing hasn’t been good enough.”

  “Yeah, I think I figured that out. But thanks for reminding me.”

  Greta sat in my mother’s chair and glared. Her icy blue eyes froze me. Smug as always. I wanted to kick her out of that chair and push her back out of my door, into whatever lurked in the shadows outside.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. Look, you’ve tried on your own. I’ve tried on my own. We’ve failed individually. We haven’t tried working together. You, me – and Jake. We’re the only ones still alive that were there.”

  “Fanny’s still alive.”

  “Yeah, sure, but while she’s in the Umbra Perdita, she can’t help us. We three understand the truth of how this started. We’re the only ones that see what’s really happening. We’re the only ones who can end this.”

  I silently considered what Greta had said. I still didn’t trust her. But as I probed her feelings, I found nothing but sincerity. Either Greta had found a way to plant false thoughts in her mind, or she was telling the truth.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked at her sincerity. Greta was a haughty megabitch, but I’d never known her to be a liar. If anything, she was honest to a fault. She’d never shied away from speaking the truth, even when it may be hurtful for others to hear. Like telling me I looked like shit. Hurtful to hear, but true.

  “It’ll take more than just the two of us. And even if we had a whole army, I’m not sure we can contain Ciardha’s Dark Energy at this point. His influence has grown too strong.”

  “I know. But we can’t sit around and do nothing.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “We need to gather others. Others who are still Lucent. And Jake. We need Jake.”

  “I can’t help you there. I haven’t seen him in almost a year.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Like all guys, his male ego is bigger than his … Well, anyway, leave Jake to me.”

  Leave Jake to her? I didn’t like the sound of that. But he hadn’t answered my texts or phone calls, and he wouldn’t come to his door to see me. I had to admit that Greta might have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting Jake on board, but I had no chance.

  “But even assuming we can get Jake on board, and find other peeps who are still Lucent, where will we meet? It’s too risky to meet here.”

  Being Brighid’s ‘chosen one’ as Ciardha had called me, I figured I was a walking target. Meeting at my house would put Lucent people at risk.

  “My dad has an empty retail space in the strip mall on Roosevelt. We can use that.”

  “Assuming we can find other Lucent people and assuming they’ll join us, what do you suggest we do with them?”

  “You’ll lead them.”

  “Me? You’re more of a leader-type than I am.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t have the torc. You do.”

  “Lot of good it has done me – or any of us. I wish I could take the damned thing off.”

  When Hindergog had told me Saorla’s story all those years ago, he’d said the torc fused to the soul of the wearer and would come off only upon the naming of a new High Priestess or the wearer’s death. Sometimes I wished that I’d never put that damned hunk of gold on my arm. At times I was able to appreciate the surge of magical power that it gave me. But mostly, it felt like a weighty reminder of the burden I carried.

  Greta rolled her eyes at me. “Your pathetic whining and self-pity aren’t going to help a thing. For God’s sake, Emily, grow up!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry for feeling bad about the fact that I – you know – started an Apocalypse.”

  “Get over yourself already. Yes, poor Emily. Mom died, born a freak, made a dumb ass of herself. So what, are you going to lie here in your house and give up? Let the whole planet fall into Ciardha’s hands?”

  “Well … no, but …”

  “No. No but. I’ve tried to gather people – to lead them. But unfortunately, I lack that arm bracelet and I’ve got no magical abilities. But you –”

  “I what? So I’ve got the torc. Yeah, it enhances my powers. But it doesn’t magically make me a leader.”

  “What is a leader anyway? It’s someone that inspires others to follow.”

  “Yes, and they’ll follow you. I’ll be honest, Greta, I’ve never liked you.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.”

  “Point taken. But one thing I can say about you is that people follow your lead, even when they don’t like you.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Why did people, back before, follow my lead?”

  “Because you’re beautiful, and a cheerleader and popular?”

  “No. They followed because I inspired them. ‘Hey, if we do what she does, maybe we’ll be popular too.’ I gave them something to aspire to.
Something to believe in. I didn’t lead by sitting like a lump in my sweatpants, feeling sorry for myself.”

  “Sorry you don’t approve of my choice in wardrobe.”

  “Man, you’re thick. I’m not talking about your goddamned sweats. I’m talking about doing something. Anything.”

  “What, exactly, do you envision that I’ll do to magically become a leader of Lucent Energy people?”

  “Well, for starters, you can brush your hair, maybe dress in something other than grey T-shirts.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m sure that will do it.”

  “It will show that you at least care enough about yourself to look clean. That you haven’t given up. And then you have to display your power.”

  “Seems to me you weren’t a big fan the last time I showed everyone at school a display of my power.”

  I recalled a vision of Greta covered in salad and greasy dressing. It seemed mildly funny at the time. With all the bad things happening outside the protective walls of my house, the joke I’d played on Greta wasn’t amusing anymore.

  Greta pursed her lips and smoothed her hair. Nope, she wasn’t a fan of that particular display of power.

  “I’m not talking about silly magic tricks and cheap theater. I’m talking about a display of your real power.”

  “Like what?”

  “You can heal people. You can move objects, read minds, and create a wall of protective energy. Be creative. Figure it out.”

  “I hope you don’t expect something on the order of a major miracle ’cause I’m out of practice.”

  “I’m not talking about raising the dead. Just a small demonstration of your powers. Stop a cut from bleeding. Heal a bruise. Lift a spoon and hurl it across the room. Something small but visible. If you show your powers, they’ll respect you. You’ll inspire them. You’ll give them …”

  “Hope.”

  “Yes. They need hope. It’s something you can give, but I can’t. That’s why you have to take the lead, whether you want to or not.”

  I began to see the wisdom of Greta’s words. And I was amazed to find that I wasn’t irritated to admit that she’d had a good idea – the idea I hadn’t been able to come up with all these months. It turned out, Greta’s pretty smart. Turned out, I needed her to be.

  “How’d you get to be so wise for a blonde?” I teased.

  “Comes with being a Hoffman. As my mother always says, ‘Disarm them with your beauty. Overcome them with your wit.’ Besides, you can’t survive in my family without learning an A-game.”

  Was it possible that Greta was more than just a vapid cheerleader who only cared about shopping, fashion and being popular? I wasn’t sure if I could trust her. But I began to think I might be able to be in the same room with her without fantasizing about strangling her.

  “Okay, so say we gather these people together, and hopefully I can perform a minor magical feat and give them some hope. Then what?”

  “We’ll help each other stay Lucent, as you call it. We’ll all feel safer as a group. And we’ll teach others how to defend themselves. More and more people are being taken. If we promise them that we can teach them how to defend themselves from being taken …”

  “That would be great. But I’m not sure we can defend ourselves against that. What’s causing people to disappear – I’m not sure you can judo kick your way out of that.”

  “It’s just people taking other people. Why don’t you think we can defend ourselves against it?”

  “Haven’t you noticed? Some of those thugs out there aren’t typical people. Some of them – their eyes are black.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “I think the ones with the black eyes have been turned dark. They’re like Dark Energy people, evil like Ciardha.”

  “Maybe. But they’re still people. They can be injured – even killed.”

  Greta’s eyes grew distant, and she fell silent. I allowed my thoughts to reach out to hers – only a soft touch at the periphery.

  A memory – fleeting – she didn’t allow it much attention. But it was there.

  Greta held a gun. Her hands shook hard, and the gun jiggled up and down. She was afraid she’d drop it. She felt bile rise in her gullet. She swallowed down the vomit that rose in her throat.

  “Don’t take another step. If you step toward me, I’ll pull the trigger. I’ll shoot you!”

  A bitter laugh rang in her ears. “Pretty blondie, your hands are shakin’ so hard you’re about to drop that piece. You pull that trigger, you’ll end up shootin’ yourself. Besides, the master has made me powerful. I can’t die.”

  The young, pale-skinned man with ebony eyes took another step.

  “Wanna bet?” Despite her trembling hands, Greta managed to pull the trigger. She fired one, two, three shots at the man.

  She saw that she had hit him, at least once. His white T-shirt was soaked with crimson blood that poured from a wound in his stomach. He looked down in shock at the holes in his gut, but he continued to walk toward her and closed the gap between them.

  Greta’s hands steadied a bit, she held her ground, and she shot again. Four, five, six shots. On the sixth, he fell.

  The man’s chest was splayed open from the near point-blank shots he’d taken. Greta’s kitchen floor was covered in the man’s blood. Her beautiful white, marble floor, likely forever stained red.

  She inched closer to see if he was really dead. When she was about two feet away from him, he turned his face to her and smiled. Blood covered his teeth, but his black eyes were still open.

  “You can’t … kill me.”

  Greta’s hands remained steady as she pointed the gun to his head. Her breath was soft and even.

  “I can,” she said. “And I will.”

  She emptied the magazine into his skull. Where there had once been a face, there was a mass of bone and brains and blood. Greta looked down and saw that she, too, was covered in the man’s blood and grey matter.

  She thought, “So much blood. Disgusting.”

  I pulled myself from her mind and instantly felt tired and breathless. By reading her thoughts, I’d lived Greta’s horrible experience. In one brief moment, I’d seen an awful truth that she was unlikely to voluntarily share.

  I’d violated Greta’s privacy and felt a twinge of guilt. Jake used to dog me for reading minds, and he was right. It was a huge invasion of privacy, and I’d stopped doing it. But I didn’t regret using my telepathy with Greta that one time. I’d seen something important that I’d needed to see and understand.

  I wanted to reach out to her and put my arms around her comfort her. But I knew that Greta and I weren’t there yet. Maybe we never would be.

  “I’m … sorry,” was all I could manage to say.

  “For what?”

  “Everything.”

  She didn’t answer but looked at me evenly. I didn’t think she was ready to forgive me for my part in bringing the Apocalypse to her door, but she was at my house. She’d reached out to me. That was all that mattered.

  “If they can be killed, then at least we have a chance to defend ourselves – and teach others how, too,” I said.

  Greta nodded. “These dark people aren’t gods. We can defeat them.”

  Greta spoke of it all with such conviction and self-assurance. In that moment, she made me believe that maybe we had a chance. For the first time since we came back from the Umbra Perdita, I believed that maybe I could set things right.

  “You seem awfully sure of yourself. How do you know we can do this?”

  “I don’t know we can. But I have to believe we can. If I stop believing, my light will go out, and I’ll be … lost.”

  Her eyes teared up again but only for a moment. She sucked in a breath, her aura brightened, and her eyes once again twinkled.

  If Greta could believe, maybe I could too. I had to find a way to hold the faith before my light went out. I didn’t want to be lost. Not anymore.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “For wh
at?”

  “For coming here. For reaching out. For giving me … hope. Thank you.”

  Greta didn’t say anything in response but gave me a wan smile. She pulled a piece of paper out of her tote and handed it to me. “Meet me at this address tomorrow at 4:00. If you see anyone who is still Lucent, bring them. Otherwise, tell no one.”

  I nodded.

  Greta left, and I closed the door behind her and bolted and chained it.

  I had just formed an alliance with Greta Hoffman. I needed to be extra careful when I left the house for fear of being hit by a flying pig.

  2. Trying to Forget

  Jake

  I landed on my ass in that cemetery, winded and aching and thankful to be alive and whole again. I figured my life would return to normal. I walked down that hill and away from her tears, determined to put the nightmare behind me. Determined to never see her again.

  Ever since preschool, Fanny, Emily and I had been a trio. Where you found one of us, you usually found the other two. And for the first time since before I could remember, I was without either of them. Without Fanny because that asshole Ciardha had not seen fit to send her back through the portal from hell. Without Emily because I chose to be.

  I was about to begin my walk to the city bus stop and my ride to community college, a.k.a. the most dangerous part of my day. The bus stop was only a block from my house, less than a quarter of a mile. But in that small distance, I would likely come across at least a half-dozen people that intended me harm.

  Before the Apocalypse (what I refer to as BA), I never worried that I’d get mugged or taken hostage or killed on the way to that bus stop. Wheaton, Illinois, is at the top of the charts for one of the safest and most boring towns in America.

  That was BA. But since Ciardha kicked Brighid’s ass, Wheaton had become overrun with gangs of kids that sold drugs, hustled stolen goods, and liked to harass people just because they could. Most people were dour and grumpy at you, even if they didn’t intend to do you harm. God forbid you accidentally bumped into someone. At the least, you’d get a verbal tirade about what a moron you were and, “Watch where you’re going, you fool!” That’s if you were lucky.

  But a careless bump into the wrong person could lead to a punch or two in the gut, or a knifing. I’d had lots of busted lips, bruises and a few broken ribs from my lovely bus ride through hell each day. I learned to keep my eyes averted, never smile, and keep my arms and legs in control at all times.