With a look of panic on her face, Ciara finally nodded. “And I don’t ever want to feel or know it again.”
“What’s your reading of it?” Jane asked.
Ciara took a deep breath. “I only got a brief glance—a psychic trace—before I was thrown out of there, but it seemed to be trapped somehow… And it was… infuriated. Angry.” She glanced around nervously. “Like the most anger I’ve ever felt. It was childlike… dangerous.”
They had all been looking to Ciara for answers, and now Morris turned to Jane. He stared at her for a moment, but she would not meet his gaze. Finally, he let his arms fall to his sides and exhaled. Jane relaxed, knowing that he was dropping the subject, if only for now.
“Let’s get something to eat,” he said, and they left the room together.
CHAPTER 3
THE MIRROR
It was now approaching March, and they had been staying in the luxurious house for over a month. As Jane pulled bread from a cupboard and began to prepare a sandwich, she thought of the friends they’d left behind when they had come to an impasse just outside of the city. Carl and Joel wanted to travel west, to San Francisco, which had become the closest thing in the US to a haven for people of psionic ability. Ciara, however, became desperately uneasy at this suggestion and begged Jane, in private, to make sure they ended up in New York City, no matter what. Jane was reluctant at first, but then agreed, knowing somehow there was something in Ciara’s wisdom that was right.
They arrived one rainy night after spending two nights in a motel—tricking the manager into giving them a room—and found the city just as unwelcoming as they had expected. They walked through streets on the Upper East Side until, eventually, Ciara homed in on an empty house, and they made their way inside. They had then proceeded—with caution—to make it their temporary dwelling.
Jane looked at Mike, who was pulling food from another cupboard. He hadn’t talked much about Colin since they parted ways, but he had spent the first two weeks in total despondency. Now, he was finally coming around. He had been spending hours alone in a room on the second story, and Jane found it impossible to penetrate the room psychically. Whatever he was doing, he didn’t want them knowing about it. She had been OK with that until a point, but now she vowed to find out exactly what he was doing up there.
Morris, ever like a sentry, approached from behind and gruffly took a box of crackers from a cupboard. He shut it with a bang, glared at Jane, and then turned around and left the kitchen. Jane and Mike shared a glance with each other, and she raised an eyebrow. Mike shrugged his shoulders, and they took their food together into the room that was just beyond the kitchen. The lighting was dimmed in here, and it was pleasant. They each sat down on one of the four sofas that faced the central table. They all ate quickly, except for Jane, who looked at the peanut-butter sandwich in front of her with a feeling that bordered on nausea. She squinted at it.
“You OK?” Morris asked.
His tone was flat, and there was only a hint of the previous concern she had heard for her in his voice. Again, she didn’t know why this was, but she had a feeling she would soon find out.
“I’m fine. Just shaken up.”
Mike swallowed. “You think what you saw in there was something serious, don’t you?”
Jane looked at him. “Yes,” she replied.
“Jane, what happened in that warehouse?” Ciara asked.
Jane looked in her direction and met her gaze. “Ugh, nothing,” she replied. She looked away as the beautiful vista of the endless road that stretched through the cosmos flashed in her mind.
Morris rolled his eyes and tilted his head. “You’ve been spilling that line since we got here. We are all psychic, you know. We probably know more about each other than any other people in the history of the human race. But you’ve kept that one thing hidden from us like no other. Why? What did he show you?”
She looked at each of them and realized that Morris was right. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I guess I just wanted to keep that to myself for a while.”
“You mean keep him to yourself,” Morris added.
“No. I mean, yes, but it’s not like that,” Jane said, frowning.
“It’s OK, guys,” Mike said as he glanced between them. “Max came to her. Not us. It’s her he has the bond with. Let’s not question it and just hope he gets back to us, because when they do come looking—when they do find us—they’ll send an army down on us, and we’re going to need his help.”
“We don’t need to escape. We need to take the fight to them,” Morris added.
They all turned to face him. Mike was finishing the last of his pasta, and Ciara placed the remains of her sandwich down on her plate.
“But there are only four of us now, and we wouldn’t even know where to look for—”
“The other facilities? Oh, we can find them, can’t we, Jane?”
Jane looked across the room at him. Knowing he was right, she nodded her head. “We probably could if we really wanted to.”
“What about Ethereal End?” Ciara asked.
“I think we gave them something to think about for the moment. I don’t think we’ll be seeing them anytime soon.”
Mike coughed, glanced around nervously, and stood up. “Excuse me, guys. I have a couple of things to do.” He left the room.
Jane looked at Ciara and Morris, knowing they were thinking the same as her.
Relax. I’ll find out what he’s doing, Jane said, directing her thoughts to both of them.
I think it’s prudent that we do, Jane. It’s been two weeks he’s been disappearing into that room. I can’t even see inside it, Ciara replied, frowning.
Jane stood up. It’s fine. I’ll take care of it. She walked out of the room and entered the hallway. When she reached the bottom step, she looked up toward the cavernous upstairs landing. She closed her eyes and shielded herself telepathically. Then, she focused on her body and placed her foot on the bottom step. She knew it would creak, and so she raised herself with her power, lifting some of her weight as she began to ascend the stairs.
Jane rose up the steps without making a sound, half walking and half floating. It occurred to her then for the very first time that she might be capable of flight. She stopped halfway up the stairs as she considered this. She was so shocked at the realization that she almost released her grip. She grasped the banister and turned to face the landing again. Then, steadying herself with her power, she continued onward.
When she reached the top, she released her weight down onto the soft, ornate carpet and looked toward the room to the left at the far end of the long hallway. This was where Mike had been spending up to two hours a day. At first, they hadn’t taken any notice of it—they had still been in alert mode, scared that they would be found. But it had slowly become obvious as time went on.
Again, Jane made sure to shield her thoughts. She raised herself just slightly, took a breath, and walked down the hallway. When she reached the door, she placed a palm on it tentatively, but felt nothing; she got no psychic readings from the other side whatsoever. Frowning, she glanced behind her down the dark hallway. She turned back then, took a deep breath, focused on the handle, and unlocked the door. It swung open, and she entered a dark and unfurnished room. Dusty planks of wood lined the floor. The ceiling was composed of large beams that slanted upward on either side. There was a single window in the roof where rain splashed down with a pelting sound. Jane turned to the only remarkable thing in the room: the large ornate mirror that was just on her right.
She walked toward it, glancing around one more time. Mike was not in the room. Maybe they had made a mistake. Maybe he had been going somewhere else? She walked toward the mirror and took a look at her reflection. There were dark circles under her eyes. She frowned, sensing something from the reflection, and placed a hand on its cool surface. She gasped and pulled her hand back, feeling as th
ough it was alive somehow. Then it only took her moments to understand why.
“Mike?” she asked in shock.
Yeah, it’s me, she heard him call back.
She looked up at the border of the mirror, jerking her head around in her search for a solution. “What the heck is going on? How did you do this?”
Stand back.
She did exactly as he asked and watched as the reflective surface began to ripple and cascade. A second later, Mike jumped through the reflective glass, which had heretofore shown only the room and Jane herself. The surface of the mirror fell around his form and then coalesced once again into a perfect sheet of reflective glass once he had cleared the surface.
Jane backed into a dark corner of the room behind her. “What the hell?” she gasped, reaching for a surface to grasp. “This is what you’ve been doing?”
He smiled. “Yes. At first, I was just upset about leaving Colin.” He approached her, and his body seemed to ripple with excitement. “Honestly, I would just spend hours sitting on the floor by myself staring out at that window… and sometimes at the mirror. And one day about a week ago, it just occurred to me.”
“What, that you could jump into a mirror?”
“Well, not exactly. But I realized that if I focused hard enough, I could reform its surface and create a perfect illusion. I mean, the entire surface is reflective, after all, so as long as I focus on that, I can make it work.”
“But aren’t you dealing with billions of molecules? How do you control all that without smashing the mirror?”
“It’s tough; I won’t tell you otherwise. But it works. You just need to concentrate hard. Remember, it’s a trick. I’m not actually altering my dimensions. I’m just rearranging the structure of the mirror.”
Jane looked from him to the mirror and then took a tentative step across the room. She could almost feel Mike smiling behind her as she did. Then he came into view as she stepped closer to their reflection, and she could see him grinning. “So what do I do?” she asked.
His smile faded just slightly, and he glanced from her reflection to her physical body just in front of him.
“You want to try it now?” he asked, surprised and frowning.
“Yes. This is something I want to learn.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just seems… important.” She was no longer looking at him, but glaring at her reflection. She reached her hand out toward the surface and focused. Immediately, she could see the matrix of molecules just below her palm, and she went to touch them. The surface rippled minutely, but in a much more haphazard fashion than she had seen with Mike.
He grabbed her hand and pulled it back. “Not so fast, Jane! It took me almost two weeks to get this right.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” She touched the mirror again, more carefully this time, placing her palm directly on the cool surface. “I almost broke it.” After a moment of staring into the surface, she turned to him. “Show me,” she said, and so he did.
***
She lay in bed that night, thinking of what Mike had demonstrated to her. She had managed to experience the full effect of it after just one hour of trial and error, and her experience of having the reflective surface warp around her, obeying her will, was wonderful. But it was difficult. She only managed to complete the illusion fully on her final, desperate try, and she had left a large crack running across the surface as she leaped from it. Her triumphant smile had faded when she saw this. She looked at Mike, who merely pursed his lips. In the reflection, the crack cut across both of their torsos right at the waist. She took his hand at that point, and they had both left the room.
Jane had not yet contacted her mother, knowing full well that using any electronic communications would likely give them away very easily. They thought of using another method, but most analog methods of communication had long since fallen out of use, and Jane guessed they would be monitored anyway.
Eventually, Jane began to drift off.
“I’ve been off lately. I know.”
She opened her eyes, coming back from the brink of sleep, and turned toward him, blinking. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but to be honest, I’ve been a little bit worried.” There was silence in the darkness for a moment as the thing that neither of them had spoken about was finally said aloud.
“I found something,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.
She sat up and turned toward him more fully. “What do you mean, you found something?”
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he sat up. His naked torso rose from beneath the sheets, the silhouette of a well-muscled frame coming into view in front of her. She placed a hand on his back, feeling the warm skin there, as he brought his own palm around behind him and moved it across his neck. He fumbled at the nape of his neck there for a moment and then stopped. He removed his fingers until only his index finger remained at the center.
“There,” he said.
Jane squinted, and she took a sharp intake of breath, as she understood what he was referring to. She reached up slowly toward his neck. She had stopped breathing, and she watched as her hand approached the spot, knowing somehow that her world was going to change once again now. Upon touching the surface, she immediately felt the bump there. “It’s metallic, like some kind of implant.”
“I know. What do you think it means?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied as she traced her fingers back and forth over the smooth surface. The bump extended about half a centimeter above his neckline, and she could feel the very hard surface beneath the skin there. She didn’t want to stop touching it, for she knew that they would then have to discuss its undeniable implications and what would undoubtedly follow.
He reached back around and took his hand in hers, leading it away from the spot. He drew her closer until she was leaning against his back. Her body moved as he took a deep breath, then she reached forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“Is this why you’ve been so frustrated lately?” she asked.
“Yes. That and… maybe something else. I’m not sure.”
“You mean you think this is affecting you?”
He hesitated. “Maybe.” He looked down at the floor, then after a moment, he spoke again. “Do you think—”
“I know what you’re thinking,” she replied, finishing his thought. “And the answer is I don’t know.” Probably, Jane, she thought to herself. Hope he didn’t hear that, she thought, but she felt his head dip just a little, and she frowned.
“But what if—” he began.
“Nothing we can do about it for now, Mor.” She kissed him on the cheek again, ran her palm across his forehead and drew him back down toward the bed. He lay on his right with his back facing her. She was lying on her back then, and he drew her hand over his torso, holding on to it tightly.
She stared at the ceiling. Despite the new desperation that was threatening to rise up inside her and take control, she found sleep quickly.
Jane was standing on a high dune, higher than the ones she remembered from her youth. Below her, the arc of sand was deep, and if she fell, she would be looking at a ten-foot drop before her feet touched the slanted surface. The wind was strong and blew her long hair up around her. Out in the distance, slightly further than she remembered the sand stretching to, was the endless blue ocean. It seemed clearer somehow; it was a more distinct azure blue, and the wash of foam near the front was pristine, with a million flecks of white.
On her right, just below her in the grass, something flickered. She turned and looked down at it. There was a book lying there, its pages fluttering in the breeze. She knelt down and picked it up, sitting on the grass with her legs hanging over the drop below that seemed as deep to her as a chasm. She looked at the book, holding it in both hands. The language was completely alien, as was the book’s design. She leafed through the pages and found only symbols, letters of such complexity that she was sure they came
from another race.
Thunder rolled across the sky from the sea in front of her. She looked out toward the ocean to see that the sky had grown darker there. Now, a fork of lightning streaked across the heavens, a brief orb of light surrounding it. The clouds were rolling across the sky toward her quickly, as though in time-lapse motion. She looked back down at the book, already feeling that its form had altered in her hands.
Indeed, it had changed. She gasped as she realized she was now holding a stone tablet. On the front of the tablet, there was a complex etching of a cube. The cube wasn’t simply etched into the stone there, but rather it was a complex geometric structure, glowing with neon light. Running across its surface was an incredibly intricate series of letters—the same ones she had seen in the book. She frowned as her fingers traced across something on the back of the tablet. She turned it over to find only a simple inscription carved there with perfect lettering. “This is his prison,” the inscription read.
She realized then that something had changed in the environment, and she glanced up toward the sea. Now, hovering above the water near to the shore was the cube depicted on the tablet that she held in her hands. It twirled slowly above the water, with one corner pointed toward the Earth, the other toward the sky, and the four remaining ones each pointing toward the horizon. On the surface of each side were lengths of what looked like a strong metallic substance. Etched into the surface of these were glowing neon letters, similar to the ones from the book. Jane watched as a series of these letters on one of the metal slats lit up and moved forward toward one of the corners, slotting into place. The motion reminded Jane of a Rubik’s Cube.
Transfixed by what she saw, she put the tablet aside and slid down the drop to the sand below, letting the back of her body glide along the dune to break her fall. She stepped forward, knowing now that she was dreaming, but also knowing that what she was seeing was somehow very important. As she drew closer to the shore, she noticed that there was a person standing at the foot of the cube, just in front of it where the waves were crashing. It appeared to be a young man wearing white garments, which looked oddly familiar. He had his back to her, and his head was tilted upward, staring directly at the object.
Rise (The Ethereal Vision Book 2) Page 3