Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2)

by Sarah Noffke

  Ren charges back to our desk and begins tapping them again. Now we all sit stoically, unaffected by his intimidation. “Truthfully, the ultimate answer to my question: what’s the worst someone can do to you is…Chase.” Tap. Tap. Tap. Ren slams his hand again on my desk and stares, his green eyes intense. “Chase is the worst Voyageur you’ll ever meet. If you get past Pierre’s probe, and Allouette’s knives, then get ready for a real challenge. It will come from Chase. Of course, like me, he’s a performer. He won’t hurt you the way Allouette will, but what he’ll do will warp you in ways you never thought imaginable. It will change how you view reality.” Ren taps his head and says, “Mind control. That’s what makes Chase a sideshow. And if you’re in the audience to watch his act you might find yourself squawking like a chicken and trying to lay eggs, and that’s if he likes you. For those he doesn’t he’ll have you pick up a knife and slit your own throat. What a way to go, huh?”

  I gulp. My blood thickens. How’s my spin kick supposed to measure up against someone like that?

  “The guy who used to have Aiden’s position,” Ren says, casually rocking back and forth on his toes, “once found himself face-to-face with Chase unexpectedly. The next thing he knew he was standing in a busy market in Lebanon with explosives strapped to his chest. Needless to say, he didn’t return to the Institute with a bag of oranges.” His nostrils flare once before he continues. “Thankfully that was a long time ago and now we have our protective charms. These help guard against Chase’s attacks, but don’t think you’re immune. He knows all too well all he has to do is get you to slip that charm off your body and then the party is on.” Ren pauses, no doubt to add suspense. “Before you delude yourself with the notion that no one could persuade you to take off your most prized possession, know this: those smarter and more skilled than you have been fooled. I’m sorry that I can’t bring them forward to offer a testimonial. They’re dead. Once he separates you from your charm there’s absolutely zero hope for you. And that’s coming from me, the optimist.” Ren gives an evil laugh.

  “Chase is a master of illusions. He uses hypnosis, subliminal communications, and projections to weaken his prey. I dare say he is one of the best.” He holds up one finger and smiles. “There’s just one other living person who outperforms Chase in this arena.” Ren winks and disappears.

  In unison everyone leans forward, exchanging nervous glances. George’s eyes widen when I look at him. We both know we’ve been had. Not only that, but we’re about to get ripped in two.

  Seconds later Ren stomps into the room. “You prats never cease to disappoint me with your stupidity!” He stands with his arms crossed and taps his foot angrily. “How many times have you stared at my face? I’ve even told you how to spot the projected version of me! And still you all fail to detect it!” He slams his fist down on Joseph’s desk. “Are you bloody sleepwalking?!” Joseph meets Ren’s eyes and holds them. As the fiery redhead speaks spit flies out of his mouth and lands on Joseph’s face. “You don’t stand a chance against Chase. I’m certain if I throw up a projection and you can’t spot it then you’re in real trouble when you face someone you don’t even know. You all are revolting.” Ren picks up the pencil sitting on the desk and begins spinning it through his fingers. “For God’s sake, will you all pay attention!”

  At his command my eyes hone in on the pencil. With his palm facing up Ren swivels it smoothly through his fingers. It balances easily between his first and middle fingers and thumb. Slowly he rotates his middle finger forward and pushes the pencil making it roll over the top of his thumb. Gently it returns to its original position. He pauses, then spins it again. Each time the pause between rotations shortens until he’s whipping the pencil through his fingers in seamless rotations. It’s magical and weird all at the same time. I don’t want to look away. And then I realize I can’t. My vision focuses on the yellow object blurring through Ren’s fingers and everything else in the room fades into nothing.

  Resist. Look away. He’s hypnotizing you! My inner voice is frantic, but I can’t follow its direction. I can’t look away. Ever. The walls push in, until I’m locked against their smoothness, flashes of yellow are all I see.

  Look away! It’s not real! Look away!

  My fingers scrape against the prison trapping my mind. Again and again the flash assaults my vision. I’m certain I’m about to pass out.

  NO! LOOK AWAY, ROYA! NOW!

  I grab onto the voice urging me to resist like it’s a wild horse. And to my surprise I don’t look away; instead my eyelids fall shut. In a matter of seconds my mind clears. The trauma attacking my senses vanishes. When I open my eyes the room spins, my vision blurs briefly before resuming to normal. If I was standing then I would surely have fallen over.

  “Well, bravo!” Ren says, continuing to spin the pencil, although I don’t look directly at it this time. “Looks like your leader isn’t completely useless.” He smirks and the pencil halts in his fingers. Everyone in the room is entranced, the same way I had been. Their eyes are still locked on the pencil in Ren’s hand. “So, Roya, you were eventually able to resist my hypnosis. However, you were still under for a good bit. Bet it slowed down your reflexes,” he says, shooting the pencil at me like it’s a paper airplane. In one movement I lean to the left and throw my right arm up to block. It connects with the side of the pencil and knocks it to the ground flatly. If I hadn’t been fast enough then it would have stabbed me in the face.

  Ren narrows his eyes, looking smugly impressed. The team is showing signs of regaining their mental faculties. Joseph keeps shaking his head, like a dog drying off after a bath. Pearl eyes the pencil lying on the floor.

  “Chase will do something like that to you until you pass out,” Ren says, perched on the corner of his desk. “You all probably would have been comatose after about another minute. Once you’re out you can go ahead and bet he’ll remove your charm and the next time you awake you’ll be doing something incredibly uncharacteristic of your typical behavior—and most likely deadly.”

  Although I can tell Ren would have preferred not to, he spends the rest of the time divulging how we can resist being hypnotized. I’m sure this is a valuable skill that he enjoys using against people like me. It’s probably his favorite bullying strategy. He’d hypnotized me over a month ago by covering a piece of paper with penciled cubes. Then I hadn’t been able to resist and I probably would have passed out if Aiden hadn’t rescued me. The hollow feeling returns to my belly. Now it’s my turn to rescue him. It’s my turn to save his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Training with Shuman is a welcome break after the torture Ren put us through. The stoic Native American is never happy and rarely encouraging, but she doesn’t criticize us. At this point, in comparison to the redheaded Brit, she’s as cheerful as a field of tulips. We spend the entire training working on shields. Everyone on the team except for Joseph is successful with this now. He’s not been able to shield himself for more than a few seconds.

  “You have to focus,” Shuman urges him.

  “I am,” Joseph says.

  “If you were then your shield would hold. Being honest with yourself is the first step,” Shuman says.

  “Look I’m not an addict and this isn’t an intervention,” Joseph says with a laugh.

  “I fear you are not taking this seriously enough. I cannot authorize your participation on this mission unless you make improvements.”

  Joseph’s face goes slack. “You can’t do that. Without me Stark won’t be as powerful.”

  Shuman’s cold stare revolves on me, then back to Joseph. “I cannot have a liability on this team, which is what you are. I am confident that Roya is still powerful enough without you to complete the mission.”

  The idea of not having Joseph with me in the Grotte isn’t as disappointing as I thought it would be. Actually half of my concern is regarding keeping him alive, so maybe it’s better if he isn’t on the team.

  His eyes flick up to mine, forehea
d creasing with surprise and offense. “I’m going on this mission,” he says with conviction. “You may not want me there right now, but you will when I save your life.”

  “I hope you do and I hope you do,” I say and pretend to take a new interest in the far side of the room. Pearl and George are over there working together. This elfin healer is so quiet that I usually forget she’s around. Maybe her shyness is because she’s new to a team which is already closely bonded. It could also be because our last healer, Whitney, died tragically. Other than the fact that Pearl can heal I don’t know anything else about her. I should probably make the effort to get to know her before we travel to the Grotte to face death.

  George says something that makes her laugh. Her tiny hands cover her face, like she’s ashamed of her response. He reaches out and pulls her hands from her face, giving a consoling shake of his head. Pearl turns the shade of a ripe cherry. I’ve been on the other end of that nod enough times to know how disarming it is. Whatever he’s saying to her, he’s trying to break through one of her defenses.

  “If you’re not too busy spying on those two,” Trent says, angling his head in the direction of George and Pearl, “then maybe you can help me practice.”

  I take the Nerf gun he’s holding. “If it involves rapidly firing a weapon at you then I’m more than happy.”

  ♦

  That afternoon at our last combat practice I approach Joseph.

  “I need practice using the escrima sticks,” I say, rotating them in my hands. They feel natural to me, like an extension of my own arms. “Will you spar with me?”

  Joseph laughs suddenly. “Yeah, whatever, Stark. I’m cute, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  I was hoping to do more than practice. We need to talk, but his eyes avert mine too quickly these days for us to have any meaningful conversations.

  When no one else volunteers, Mario offers to be my partner. That’s fine because I can benefit the most by working with him. The others continue to practice. Trent has decided against choosing a weapon since he can steal a knife from Allouette. And pretty much everyone else has failed to find a weapon that feels natural to them. I’m relieved when between sparring rounds with Mario I spy Samara pick up a short sword and show promise working with it.

  I approach her, balancing my escrima sticks on my right palm. “So, maybe between the two of us we can keep the group alive,” I say, gesturing to the misfits behind us.

  Samara diagonally slices through the air and pivots. I spy the radiant fury on her face before she masks it. “Yeah, I think we can guarantee they don’t get wasted in the first few minutes. After that I’m not so sure.” She slips her long hair into a rubber band, then continues cutting the air. “If it makes you feel better, Joseph made progress with his shield toward the end of practice this morning,” Samara says between measured breaths.

  “Progress? Like enough that Shuman will allow him on the mission?”

  “Probably. He got determined after he thought he was going to get chopped.”

  “That’s good. Wish he would have been that focused since the start.”

  “Joseph has to be properly motivated to do anything,” Samara says, turning around to face me directly.

  “Hey”—I lower my voice like I’m about to say something secretive—“did you spy any information about what sort of activity he’s been up to lately? Whatever it is that’s responsible for making him look so puny and all?”

  Samara sighs. “I wish. I can read his thoughts on everything else but that. And I mean everything,” she says bitterly.

  “Oh, that sucks.” An awkward silence passes.

  “Did you know he was putting the moves on any girl who isn’t his sister?”

  I spin one of the sticks around in my palm, testing the balance. “Or Shuman. I don’t think she’s his type.”

  “I don’t know, I think given the right circumstances he’d hit on her. Besides, she’s stunningly attractive,” Samara says, staring at Joseph who’s across the room.

  “And she’s also as affectionate and warm as a marble statue.”

  “Shuman, like everyone else, has reasons for her nature.” There’s a beautiful complexity in Samara’s eyes, no doubt a result of knowing more than someone her age should.

  “What did Joseph say when you dumped him?” I ask.

  Her face falls with a look of shame.

  “Oh, so you haven’t kicked him to the curb yet,” I say.

  “I should,” Samara says, frustrated. “I’ve tried, but every time he looks at me with those green eyes and pleads with that southern drawl I’m toast.”

  I shake my head. “Yeah, guys have a way of pulling us in, even when we want to resist. I get it.”

  “And I have to admit I kind of like a bad boy. It’s cliché and stupid, but true.”

  “Maybe someone will kidnap Joseph so you won’t have to worry about resisting his temptations. It’s worked well for me,” I say sadistically.

  The edges of Samara’s mouth curl in a small smile. She gets my humor or at least isn’t completely repulsed by it.

  “Yeah, whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes. “We both know your temptations didn’t go completely away when Aiden was abducted.” She flicks her eyes to George, who’s pretending to spar with Pearl.

  “Why in the world did I have to make friends with a telepath? Is it too late to have normal friends?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Samara grins. “You know, you and Joseph have a lot in common. I know you think you’re polar opposites, but both of you can’t stand to be serious for long.”

  “Oh, I’m way more serious than him by a long shot.”

  “Really? Well then seriously, how heartbroken is this Aiden situation for you? It can’t be easy, although you give the impression that it is.”

  I take a deep breath. “It isn’t easy and it isn’t heartbreaking. I have a job to do. That’s how I see it. I don’t think of it as Aiden we’re rescuing, but rather something I’m returning to the Lucidites.” I shrug. “I know it sounds like a silly way to think, but it’s the only way I can without going crazy.”

  “Roya, it’s not silly. Can I be honest with you?” Samara looks a little uneasy.

  I raise a skeptical eyebrow at her, but nod still.

  “I don’t usually tell people about the nature of their thoughts. It’s like looking at your therapist’s notes, it drives most people crazy. But I will tell you something because I think it might help.”

  She pauses.

  “Yes,” I encourage.

  “Well, you don’t think like anybody else. You’ve mastered the art of compartmentalizing your thoughts.”

  “Oh, well, I do like to keep things tidy.”

  She half smiles. “Thoughts are rarely organized in people’s minds. Most people would be managing this whole thing differently.”

  “Maybe I should be managing this whole thing differently.” I try not to sound as dejected as I feel.

  “No, how you’ve disciplined your thoughts is exactly the reason you can lead a mission to rescue someone you care so much about.”

  “Thanks for sharing that with me. If nothing else it boosts my confidence a little.”

  “That’s what friends are for.”

  A sharp pang of guilt shoots through my stomach. I eye Joseph in the corner. He’s punching a heavy bag. Each strike is so hard that it picks the hundred-pound bag up off its chains. Although I knew my brother was strong, I didn’t realize the ferocity of his attacks before. With an intense burning in his eyes he throws a front kick at the bag. It lands flatly, knocking him off balance and sending his other leg out underneath him.

  “Maybe it’s about time I was a good friend too,” I say to Samara, who’s also witnessed Joseph land on his tailbone. “I think he could use a confidence boost.” I stride across the combat studio toward Joseph, ready to extend an arm out for him. Our eyes meet only once before he scrambles to his feet and strides out of the room, face red with humiliation. I con
sider running after him, but I know that will only make things worse. How can I expect to lead this team when I can’t even provide the proper support to my brother? A team is only as strong as its leadership. After everything I’ve seen today I have enough evidence to confirm that I’m incompetent in this role. So much so I almost feel I deserve a long diatribe from Ren on the subject.

  Sweaty and dejected, I take aim at the heavy bag, ready to assault it with all I have left. If everything is going to weigh on my shoulders then I need to be stronger. Not leading this team isn’t an option. I’ve complained and cried about this burden, but not for all the riches in the world would I unload it. Because sometimes our greatest challenges hold our greatest treasures and secretly I’m hoping that at the bottom of this mission there’s something buried for me. That there’s something I’ve been searching for and been unable to obtain.

  The bag echoes its complaints from my attacks, but doesn’t waver the way it did when Joseph struck it. Again and again I crouch, lunge, strike, until sweat rolls down into my eyes blurring my vision.

  “You might want to leave something for the Grotte,” he says behind me.

  I turn to find the combat studio empty, save for George. “Where’d everyone go?” I push sweat out of my eyes, wondering how gross I must look. George has changed into jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Dinner…a while ago.”

  How did I miss that?

  “Oh,” I say, steadying my ragged breaths.

  “You’re trying too hard. You’re better at this than you think.”

  “Better at what? At kicking ass?”

  “Leading. You don’t realize that you naturally lead us. You’re always the first to move, to leave, to attempt whatever it is we’re doing.”