Nexus Tear (Laments of Angels & Dark Chemistry Book 2)

by Meg Xuemei X

  “I have to face my own demon at some point. Peeking at it in a cage won’t hurt me.”

  “Fine, but don’t you have data on my chamber?” she asked. She wasn’t fond of baring her secrets. It made her feel naked.

  “No one else has entered that chamber of yours—not since those who built it. Isn’t it only fair that if you see some of my secrets, I share some of yours?”

  “It has only a few antique collections. Nothing special.”

  “If you’re not ready to trade,” Ashburn said, “I'm going back to bed and catching some sleep.” He whirled Spike around.

  “Wait! I didn’t say I wouldn’t show you.”

  Ashburn spun Spike back toward Lucienne, his eyes sparkling.

  She had to make a deal with him, in exchange for gaining access to the TimeDust he guarded from her.

  She gave him a withering look. “Do you always have strings attached?”

  “So says an opportunist.”

  That instantly brought out Lucienne’s hardened shell. “Shall we get it over with then?”

  “I don’t like to upset you,” Ashburn sighed. “It’s just hard for me to be around you, and other people’s memories of you only make it worse. They’re often conflicted and tampered. You’re a complicated girl to know. Even Vladimir—” Then he stopped, looking at her in regret.

  Frost rose in Lucienne’s eyes, cloaking her pain. “Vladimir Blazek doesn’t know a thing about me. He never did.”

  “Lucia,” Ashburn drew a breath, “I want to see your place, because I want to know you. I want to know you through my own eyes instead of others’ impressions of you.”

  As Lucienne’s edge softened, her eyes turned cognac brown. Before Ashburn came to Sphinxes, he told her on the rooftop of the Ghost House, “I want to get to know you. As a normal boy knows a normal girl.”

  But they weren’t a normal pair. She was born to rule as the Siren; he was advanced even before he had the power.

  “Knowing a person takes time,” she said softly.

  Ashburn pulled Spike closer, his fresh woody scent wafting toward her. His longing to be near her resonated with hers.

  The Lure urged her forward, but Lucienne stepped back. “Park Spike at the front yard and enter through the front door,” she said.

  By the time she descended, Ashburn was in the vaulted-ceilinged library, browsing through her collections of books and manuscripts of mythologies—the lost legends, antediluvian knowledge, and wars between gods, demigods, and heroes.

  Aida didn’t open the door for him. She was in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

  Which meant Ashburn had bypassed the mansion’s topnotch security system, disarmed the weaponry, and let himself in.

  Apprehension clutched Lucienne like a stranger’s cold hand. She had never felt so defenseless. The only comfort she had was that he still couldn’t read her memories, so he wouldn’t know for a few seconds how badly she wanted to take out the threat—him.

  Lucienne put on an easy smile and sauntered toward him.

  He sent her a passing glance. She had traded her nightgown for a tank top, Capri pants, and sneakers. “You’ve collected almost all the existing mythologies,” he said, a leather-bound book in his hand. “Impressive.”

  A light brightened Lucienne’s eyes. Every piece of her collection was worth a fortune. “I inherited most of them from my ancestors.” Ancient mythologies are a required study for the Sirens. “I’ve been reading them since I was eight.”

  “Any insight to share?” Ashburn asked.

  “One phenomenon,” she said. “All the primitive cultures told of superior races before the coming of the humankind on earth, and the tales of a hidden realm that would decipher immortality, superpowers, and quantum evolution.”

  “Maybe there’s a reason that plane is kept from the human race,” he said. “Knowing all might destroy us, considering our nature. So maybe some of us should forget about—”

  “If I had, I’d never have found Nirvana. I wouldn’t have met you.”

  Ashburn locked his eyes onto Lucienne’s. “Is meeting me a good thing?”

  Lucienne tilted her head. “And you think it’s not?”

  Ashburn suddenly laughed—rich, musical, and sexy.

  Lucienne leaned against a grand piano, letting her fingers try a few casual notes to cover the effect of his laughter.

  “None of the records has the whole truth. But you, Ash—” she said, eyes gleaming with expectation. If he had the answers to Eterne, the realm of the gods, she needn’t look somewhere else. “—you have accurate memories of human history since the beginning. You can tell the truth from the myth.”

  Ashburn’s eyes sharpened. “I don’t have the full data. I told you.”

  He had shown her. He had broken free from the Eye of Time before it completed transferring TimeDust to him. The rest of the program and power remained inside the Eye. He had expressed clearly not long ago that he didn’t want her to dig deeper into the partial TimeDust in him.

  “Breakfast, kids,” Aida called from the bottom of the spiral stairs.

  “She still thinks I’m a kid,” Lucienne whispered to Ashburn. She was glad that her nanny dispersed the tension in the room.

  He smiled. “You're only seventeen.”

  Lucienne rolled her eyes. “Like you're much older?”

  “A year and three months. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Lucia?” Aida called again.

  “Be there in a minute,” Lucienne called back, her eyes staying on Ashburn. “Are you hungry?”

  “I can wait.”

  “Then let's go see my cellar,” she said with determination, as if preventing herself from changing her mind.

  Lucienne led Ashburn into the cellar that was designed to be impenetrable to satellites. Light automatically flooded the temperature-controlled room.

  She watched him survey artifacts in the glass cabinets and on the shelves. He moved his gaze from a meteorite to a lime gemstone the size of a dragon egg.

  On the stone was a meticulous drawing of a male and a female standing beside a spaceship shaped like an eye atop two other interlinked eyes. The species’ eyes and hair were silvery. On their forehead was the mark of an unknown star system, just like the female image Lucienne saw on the Rabbit Hole’s ice-like pillar.

  Silver eyes and hair. Just like Ash. Lucienne turned to Ashburn and her irises dilated. He also had the same perfection as the portrayed male, only without the galaxy map on his forehead and pointed ears. Maybe he has their ears. His long silver hair always covered them.

  Her heart leaping, she edged closer to him to brush his hair aside.

  “Where did you get this?” Ashburn wheeled toward Lucienne, and she jumped back, her hand freezing inches from his face.

  Her hand unfroze the next second and grabbed Ashburn’s wrist before he snatched the gemstone. “Don’t touch it,” she said. “You need to wear special gloves to handle the antiques. Even with gloves, I don’t suggest you tou—Oh.”

  The luscious sensation from the Lure burst from their touch, surging into Lucienne.

  She arched her back.

  Ashburn’s attention left the gemstone. He stared at her, eyes flaring brightly. Their gazes held, savage hunger overtaking them. His gaze dropped to her lips.

  Under its weight, Lucienne’s lips parted involuntarily. She could feel the moisture of desire on them. She wanted to feel his sculptured mouth on hers again.

  His woody scent, masculine and irresistible, reminded her of the Red Mansion’s forest, and the forest reminded her of Vladimir’s disastrous kiss.

  You’re out of the picture! She hissed at the striking Czech’s face.

  There was no reason to fight the urge that drove her toward Ashburn anymore. But Vladimir’s hazel eyes, devastated yet stubbornly hopeful, gazed back at her.

  Don’t do this to me again, láska, he pleaded. Láska meant love in Czech. His voice was so real, as if he were whispering to her in flesh. T
rust me, like you always did….

  Lucienne let go of Ashburn and stepped back. “No touch, Ash,” she muttered with difficulty. “Just watch. The antique is fragile.”

  Ashburn’s eyes transformed to metal gray as open frustration swirled in them, but his hungry look only intensified. For a moment, Lucienne believed he was about to force himself into her mind to see why she had gotten cold feet.

  Instantly, she shielded her mind.

  The probe she expected didn’t come.

  Ashburn dropped his consuming stare. A blur of emotions—sadness, understanding, and jealousy—skidded across his face. The next second, he was composed.

  He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “No touch.” His voice was flat as he faced away from her, surveying the room.

  Lucienne knew he was looking for the Eye of Time. His eyes fixed on the black crystal box on a stone table in the center of the chamber.

  “It’s not inside,” she said, pulling out the platinum necklace from around her neck. She held the gold locket at the end of the chain. “You’ll have to look at it in my palm.”

  “I won’t take it from you.”

  “I’m sure,” she said. “But I never take it off. Are you ready to see it?”

  Ashburn nodded, and Lucienne pushed the pin.

  As the charm opened, he stepped closer to her to stare at the Eye of Time, which lay inertly amid half-white, half-black translucent Twilight Water.

  “My team couldn’t find its sensor pods and power units,” she said. “How can we make sense of an entity that exists before time?” Then she felt the weight on her palms grow heavy as lead.

  She peeked down. The Eye stared back at Ashburn. Lucienne seemed to hear its desperate screaming as it tried to break free from its cage.

  It can sense Ashburn nearby even though it’s bounded by Twilight Water. All it wants is him. And she was the third wheel. Lucienne resisted an urge to pull the Eye away from Ashburn. Then she fought harder not letting it out to hunt him.

  For the first time, Ashburn wasn’t paying Lucienne any attention. He had forgotten about her presence. Didn’t care she was blatantly drinking in the sight of him. The rings of his irises turned gold, then sunset red.

  Lust, Lucienne thought. He wants the Eye of Time more than he desires me.

  She clutched the charm as she watched the redness in his eyes burn to a mad gleam. She had never seen anyone’s eyes so bright and so dark at the same time. Her free hand was ready to shove or punch him if he made a move to take the Eye of Time.

  Ashburn stumbled back. “Shut it!” he shouted.

  She was more than happy to oblige and slammed the locket shut. “It telepathed you, didn’t it?” she asked, suppressing an insane jealousy. “What did it say?”

  Breathing hard, Ashburn turned to her, as if just noticing her. “It won’t get any of me.”

  “You wanted it, too.” She confronted him. “I saw that in your eyes.”

  “Not me, the program—the TimeDust—in me.” The redness faded from his eyes. In its wake was fear.

  Ashburn’s encounter with the Eye of Time replayed fast-forward in Lucienne’s mind. He was terrified of being possessed by the ancient entity, and worse, couldn’t deny that he also longed for it. And that shattered him more than anything.

  A maternal instinct Lucienne never knew she had overcame her. She moved toward Ashburn and held him in her arms. “Ash,” she whispered, “I won’t let it take you. Never.”

  The Lure instantly zipped around them.

  This time Lucienne didn’t fight it. Ashburn wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face between her neck and shoulder. A sad, gentle realization expanded in Lucienne: no one understood Ashburn more than she did, and no one could harm him more than her. No matter how powerful he was, she had the ultimate weapon. As much as he was her ticket to the future, she also held his fate in her hands.

  “Destroy it,” Ashburn whispered in her ear.

  Lucienne’s back tensed even as Ashburn’s warm breath on her cheek sent a shiver of pleasure through her. “I can't,” she said softly. “You know it can't be destroyed.”

  “If I find a way, will you do that for me?”

  She threaded her fingers through his hair. Ashburn let out a sigh, obviously liking it. She pulled away by sheer will. “Come,” she said, “let’s get some pancakes. I’m starving,” and led him out of the chamber.

  The door automatically shut behind them.

  Aida refused to let the kids help. She transported pancakes with wild berries and bananas from the kitchen to the sunroom. The room had a sunroof and bulletproof windows formed in the Spanish style.

  Lucienne bit into a piece of crispy bacon and moaned in satisfaction.

  Ashburn smiled at her while attacking his pancakes. “Do we have more?” he asked hopefully.

  The normalcy of having a simple breakfast in her home with Ashburn felt surreal. Amid the pending war, heartbreak, and uncertain future, here she was, chatting and joking with a boy she hadn’t known existed a few months ago and who she had thought to be a foe.

  Sunshine poured on them from all directions, creating a bright yet intimate atmosphere. Lucienne wanted to pretend this wasn’t an illusion.

  Tomorrow, her scientists would start running tests on Ashburn. She must unravel the mystery of his genetic makeup. She knew how much he hated it, but he was right: she couldn’t change her nature.

  Part of her was a predator and would always be.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dr. Wren insisted on giving Ashburn a full physical before handing him over to Dr. Christophersen, the Norwegian geneticist who headed Sphinxes’ Laboratory M13. Lucienne wanted as few people as possible involved so she volunteered to play nurse.

  Ashburn’s eyes followed Lucienne everywhere she went. Dr. Wren cleared his throat loudly, but Ashburn, who sat on the edge of the patient bed, ignored the doctor’s irritation and kept watching Lucienne.

  “Take off your clothes and put on a patient gown, boy,” Dr. Wren ordered.

  Ashburn regarded the gown on the bed, his pale face turning pink. He stole a glance at Lucienne before turning to the doctor with his arms across his chest. “Why?” he demanded.

  “Why are you so shy all of a sudden?” Dr. Wren asked.

  Lucienne fought back a smile. She found Ashburn’s blush endearing.

  “I don’t want to be naked in front of… people,” Ashburn said, darting a quick look at Lucienne again. People meant her. “I’m not sick,” he added.

  Dr. Wren waved his hand in exasperation. “Cooperation, boy. We need to do a full physical. We need to have records of your weight, blood pressure, and heartbeat. I’m a doctor. There is nothing about the human body I haven’t seen.”

  Ashburn sent Lucienne a look. “What about her?”

  Dr. Wren turned to Lucienne with a look that suggested any teenage boy would pose a threat to her virtue. “Lucia,” he coaxed, “maybe you should stay out of this? I’ll brief you if there's anything wrong with this boy.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” Ashburn snapped. “I’m healthy. I have no diseases.”

  “Stop being difficult,” Lucienne said, gesturing to her nurse’s uniform. “We agreed on this. And I’m not unfamiliar with a nurse’s duties.”

  Dr. Wren turned to Ashburn ruefully. “It was agreed.”

  “I'm not going to bite you, Ash,” Lucienne said matter-of-factly.

  Ashburn grunted and went to the side room to change.

  When he came back, Dr. Wren pressed a stethoscope through the opening of his gown, listening to his heartbeat.

  Lucienne caught a glimpse of his perfect body and stifled a gasp.

  Instantly the Lure looped around them.

  Ashburn’s male scent filled her nostrils. Lucienne felt her heart pounding achingly in her chest as she fought not to jump on him like a feline in heat.

  What is this? Hands balling into fists at her sides, she hissed at the Lure that was forcing he
r hormone level to sky rocket.

  “Why does your heart race so fast, boy?” Dr. Wren called in alarm. “This is no good. Slow down. Nurse!”

  Lucienne could no longer perform her duty. She stumbled out of the room.

  As she fled toward the bathroom at the far end of the laboratory, searing pain burst in her, as if someone stabbed her chest. She now understood what Ashburn had meant by “being slammed by a jet.” The Lure was punishing her viciously for putting it off.

  Doubled over in agony, Lucienne reached to grab the stall door for support. For a moment, she wondered why she had brought this on herself by resisting the pull between her and Ashburn. The only obstacle—Vladimir Blazek—had been removed from her path. Why did she still fight her own needs?

  Was she afraid of a new relationship because of the old wound? Maybe, but if she went to Ash, it must be her choice and not the pull of some supernatural power. It thought it could manipulate her rushing hormones, but all it did was drag the fight out of her.

  I’ll never surrender to you, she swore. But deep inside, she didn’t feel that confident.

  Lucienne ducked into the stall when she heard the sound of stilettos heading toward the bathroom.

  “Lucia?” Ziyi asked from the doorway.

  Lucienne pretended to flush the toilet before coming out of the stall. “All set?” she asked casually, turning on the faucet.

  “Yeah,” said Ziyi. “I saw you running like a fugitive.” She studied her friend. “You look pale.”

  “Low blood sugar,” Lucienne said. “I’m fine now. I shouldn’t skip breakfast again.”

  “You should never!” Ziyi said. “But you’re in luck. I have chocolate bars in my purse. I’ll get them for ya.”

  “Give me one after the test,” Lucienne said, managing a faint smile. The sting of the Lure’s punishment still ran through her. “Let’s get back. Ashburn should be ready by now.” In fact, she was very much afraid to go back to face him and the Lure again. She wasn’t half as brave and nowhere near as strong as she had believed.

  Ashburn searched Lucienne’s face as she walked into the lab. He had put on his black shirt and jeans, which was good news for Lucienne. She was now careful to keep a safe distance between them. She was still pale, though the pain in her chest had dulled.