Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2)

by Sarah Noffke

  I drop the sticks and roll out my wrists. “No, George, I’m a loner. Not a leader.”

  “That’s interesting because I think it’s exactly this loner quality that makes a leader successful.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Well, the moment a leader wants to be liked or to conform is when they compromise their integrity. How can you make clear decisions if you’re seeking approval?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I say, turning my back on him and toweling off. He’s so quiet behind me. George is unbelievably predictable, to the extent I know he’s waiting for my emotions to boil to the surface. I consider storming away from him and not saying what we both know I’m feeling. I turn and face him. “Well then, as your leader I want to know why you’re wasting yours and Pearl’s time by pretending to spar.”

  He gives me a cautious stare. “I didn’t want to hit her.”

  “Then maybe you should have chosen another partner,” I say too loud, sweat still beading my forehead.

  “I don’t want to hit anyone. Fighting doesn’t feel natural,” George says, blocking my way to the exit. “And how could I hit Pearl when I’d feel her pain afterward?”

  “Well, if you’re going to hit anyone then it might as well be someone who can heal themselves.” I laugh. George doesn’t.

  “We were all built to negotiate life differently. You’re a fighter, Roya, in every sense of the word and I support that.”

  “And I should support that you’re not, is that right? Well then, I will, but here’s the deal. As the leader of this group I expect everyone to find a way to defend themselves in the Grotte.”

  “And I do have ways, ones that work better for me than fighting.”

  “Then I expect you to use them not only to protect yourself, but also anyone on this team who needs help. I expect you to train wisely, and the next time I catch you goofing off I’m going to use you as target practice.”

  I’m livid at George, Joseph, and strangely at Pearl. But despite all my anger and threats, George actually smiles at me, his adorable dimple surfacing on his left cheek.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because I’m right.”

  Silence. I refuse to be goaded.

  “You’re a born leader. You won’t let me or even your brother get away with slacking. You hold us accountable, as you should.”

  “Look, George, I really don’t need a pep talk. Actually all I really need right now is a shower.”

  “This isn’t a pep talk. It’s my observations. There’s a million more I wish you’d let me share with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Who exactly is this scientist that six people are about to risk their life to save? For the past few days I’ve been telling myself to only focus on the task. Now with this impending doom staring me in the face it’s hard to resist the fact that I’m about to endanger my life and many others’ to save Aiden. I know how I feel about him, but that can’t be my only motivation. If the tables were turned would he risk everything to save me or someone on my team? Sure, he’d saved me twice, but always in the safety of one of his labs. And although I know he cares, he’s still too much of a coward to make anything between us official.

  Why am I risking my life for a guy who won’t jeopardize his career for me? With less than twenty-four hours until our rescue mission my heart battles this doubt. With each beat a new emotion pulses through my being: worry, frustration, anxiety, longing, fear, doubt.

  I throw myself onto my bed assaulting it with punches until the power of my emotions wanes and I surrender from exhaustion. The ball I curl into is becoming so familiar to my body. I cradle my arms, providing a support I’ve also grown accustomed to. One only I can offer myself.

  Slowly, like waking from a dream, my logical side surfaces. Aiden is the smartest scientist the Lucidites have ever employed, and therefore probably one the greatest assets on the earth. And I’ve agreed to rescue him because I know I stand a chance of succeeding. My heart wants to tear down every cave the Voyageurs occupy to find him. But my mind knows that if I remain calm and calculated I’ll find the path of least resistance to rescue Aiden, and that’s what needs to happen because he matters to more than me—he matters to the world.

  I see Aiden’s eyes clearly in my mind. His smile is only a breath away. He presses his lips against mine. The pulse of electricity so often associated with his touch courses through me. He whispers words in my ear that I can’t make out, but my heart feels their comfort. We’re two entangled bodies, satisfied by our unrelenting connection to each other.

  The next time he speaks I hear his words and they imprint on my soul. “I’m alive. As long you can feel me, I’m alive.” I reach out to touch his face, my fingers only an eyelash distance from his skin—

  “Wake up, Stark! Wake up!”

  I jerk upright. Joseph stands over me, arms crossed. Rapid blinks bring the room into clearer focus. Bed sheets are tangled around me, my heart beating fast.

  “What in the hell are you doing in my room!?”

  “You wouldn’t answer your door. I was worried about you,” Joseph says, sitting down next to me on the bed. “Are you all right?”

  I run my fingers through my tousled hair. “I’m fine. Just having a strange dream.”

  He peers at me skeptically. “Want to share? You know I’m a master at interpretation.”

  “That’s all right; I think I’ve figured this one out on my own.”

  “I brought you something to eat since you missed dinner.” He hands me a white container and a bag of utensils.

  My stomach growls with anticipation. “Thanks, I’m starving.” I prop myself up and pry the container open so fast, I fling dressing on my bed sheets. “So you decided to start feeding me again?”

  Joseph settles back on the pillow beside me, tucking his arms behind his head. “I’m a bit messed up, aren’t I? Cold one minute, warm the next, huh?”

  I peer at him warily. “How strange, that’s exactly what I was going to say.”

  “I apologize for storming off earlier. I know you were intendin’ to help me. My ego is a bit bruised right now.”

  “I’m not going to ask why and you’re not going to give me a real explanation, so why don’t we skip to the part where we get past all this?”

  “And here I thought you were gonna want another apology or promise from me that I’d act right,” Joseph says, staring up at the ceiling.

  “I only want what you can give me.”

  “Do you want me with you in the Grotte?”

  “Not really,” I say, throwing my fork down into my unfinished food.

  Joseph’s eyes jerk to mine, a look of disappointment on his face.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I shrug.

  “And you’re worried I’m not good enough,” he says, an edge of hurt in his voice.

  “Joseph, I know if you’re focused then you’re better than anyone on the team. Hell, there’s no one I’d rather have by my side. But I know the danger we’re facing and I want to shield you from it.”

  “That’s a big fat ditto.”

  “All right, so then we can both agree that we need to stop worrying and getting distracted and focus on keeping each other alive, right?”

  “Yes, we can agree to that, but…” Shame surfaces in his eyes, like a window being briefly opened. “I’m not on drugs, but I’m like an addict. I’m gonna tell you what you want to hear one minute, but the next I’ll do somethin’ contrary to it. I keep telling myself not to, but then I turn around and realize I’ve disappointed you again. And that’s worse than anything, worse than all the looks of disapproval I keep gettin’ from everyone at the Institute.”

  “Joseph, what has you so mixed up?”

  “Everythin’ and nothin’. I make it all more complicated than it needs to be. I break my own heart. Torture myself with no-win situations.” He sits up and faces me, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “You wouldn’t know what
that’s like, would ya?”

  “Nope, haven’t got a clue. And it’s impossible to help you when you keep speaking in riddles.”

  “I never said I wanted help. Let me be a screw-up and love me just the same,” he says matter-of-factly.

  He hasn’t really left me any room to negotiate here.

  “Of course,” I finally say.

  “All right, well, if you hurry up and get ready then we can make it to the party before it’s completely lame.”

  “What party?” I ask, wondering how everything shifted so quickly.

  “Trent’s. He didn’t invite you because he was pretty certain you’d shut it down, but I’m invitin’ you because, well, we’re building bridges, aren’t we?” He gives me the trademark persuasive smile which has won over most of the hearts in this Institute.

  “It’s the night before the mission. I don’t think we need to be partying.”

  “And that’s exactly why Trent didn’t invite you. And also because he themed the party ‘In Case There’s No Afterlife.’”

  “Classy.”

  “I say you prove him and everyone else wrong by showing up and having a good time.”

  “Are you trying to convince me to go because then you’ll have my permission?”

  “Oh, Stark, I think we both know I don’t need your permission. I’m convincing you to go because it will be good for you.” He pauses, and a sly smile unfolds. “And I can’t wait to see Trent’s face when I prance you through that door.”

  “You’re cunning aren’t you?”

  “As well as many other things. Now go ahead and fix yourself up so we can get out of here. Currently you look like someone put you through the clothes dryer.”

  ♦

  Music pours through Trent’s open door. It isn’t comparable to the tunes on my iPod. It’s under the category of “noise that makes my ears hemorrhage.”

  The lights are low and an iridescent glow shimmers from the overhead disco ball. Joseph abandons me the moment we arrive to talk to Samara.

  Pearl sits on the edge of Trent’s bed, looking especially pale. She’s masking her nervousness by clumsily moving her head to the rhythm of the music.

  “Hey there,” I say loud enough to be heard.

  “Hey.” I see her mouth move.

  “How are you?” My voice again bordering on shouting.

  She nods.

  “I hope you know I’m really grateful you’re on this team.”

  She blinks quickly; it reeks of a lack of confidence.

  “Thanks,” Pearl finally says.

  “How have you liked your time at the Institute so far?” I ask, desperately searching for anything to warrant more than a one-word answer.

  A baffled look falls on her face. “I love it. It’s my home.”

  That seems like an awfully sudden adoption of the place. She must have come into the Institute under different circumstances than me, ones that garnered trust and respect.

  “Yeah, it’s a nice place,” I lie.

  To say Pearl is socially awkward is an understatement. Her shyness is so painful it paralyzes me, making it impossible to come up with another topic of small talk. She’s gone back to gracelessly swaying her head from side to side off the beat of the music.

  Joseph and Samara are now dancing. He’s doing that ridiculous robot dance. I point at him and laugh. Pearl covers her mouth and laughs too. With a small wave I charge off to get a drink, instantly feeling better when not in Pearl’s tense presence.

  There’s close to two dozen people in Trent’s room. How has he managed that? Then the man himself saunters up next to me.

  “So tell me, Roya, when you going to be honest with yourself and profess your love for me?”

  I smile into my drink. “I think I’d like to keep you waiting in suspense a bit longer.”

  He laughs loudly, then points at my cup. “Keep drinking that and I won’t have to wait long.”

  I freeze and thrust the drink at his chest. He takes it with a wink.

  “So did my invitation to this party get lost in the mail, because if so, I’ll totally petition to get Patrick fired.”

  “Didn’t think you’d come, and I’m certain you probably don’t think this celebration is a good idea.”

  “You know, Trent, you’re not as dumb as you look.”

  “And I assure you I’m every bit as seductive as I look.”

  I laugh, a genuine one. “Well, I didn’t think this was a good idea at first, but I can see the importance of letting off some steam before the big event. Will you promise to send everybody back to their room at a decent time?”

  “Yes, mom.”

  I tuck my head down and slide through dancing people. Light grows brighter as I edge closer to the hallway. Snaking my way through the tight crowd of bodies, I have a brief moment of claustrophobia. Only once I reach the threshold does my breath return. I’m not certain how hanging out in an overcrowded room is fun, but more power to the rest of them. The corridor feels double its normal size as I head back to my safe haven.

  “Not so fast.”

  I freeze. He’s talking to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Rigid, I straighten before turning around to face George. He continues to stride forward until he’s only two feet from me. “Don’t leave,” he says, a chastised tone to his voice.

  The light in the hallway is bright, still messing with my eyes after the disco ball. “I’ve had a long day, that’s all,” I say. “I need to get some rest for tomorrow.”

  “So you’re not dream traveling later then.” His tone is not questioning, but rather bitter.

  “Probably not,” I say.

  “Okay, well then that settles it.” George strides around me, blocking my room.

  “Settles what?” I ask, worried he’s about to do something stupid.

  “Well, it’s pretty much my last chance.” His eyes bore into me with a new intensity. “It’s my last chance before everything comes to a head. And after that it will all change.”

  What does he mean? “George…” I plead. “Please—”

  “Roya, give me a chance. I promise I’m not here to hurt or pressure you. I only want to take advantage of the precious time we have left.” His ominous words carry an urgent awakening through my being. He holds out his arm for me. “Would you accompany me? I have something I want to show you.”

  I hesitate, staring at his arm, then his eyes. We don’t know what dangers we’ll face tomorrow. I’ve tried not to think about it and honestly, I don’t want to spend the rest of the night consumed with thoughts of the unknown. Wrapping my arm around his I allow him to lead me off. With a sturdy force, George guides me to the elevator. His finger presses the 5 with an excited hesitation. Nervous tension mounts within me as I search my brain for what could be on that level that he’d want to show me.

  Once we arrive he escorts me out of the elevator without a single glance. His grip around my arm is both gentle and commanding, which I don’t just permit, but relish. Right past the Panther room he stops at a doorway labeled “Shhh.” I’ve been by it a million times. George pauses, seems to waver, about to say something, then hits the button with his elbow. The door slides back.

  A soothing musk of leather and fresh polished wood hits my nostrils. George drops his grip on me and I step forward. Compared to the cold hallway, the space I enter is rich with mahogany and warm with soft sconce lighting. Marble greets my feet oddly. Most places in the Institute are covered in the iridescent blue carpet. Here black and cream marble spiral together until they disappear into each other in the center of a great atrium. The design is the same as the amulet Trey wears. A yin yang of sorts. My feet bring me to the center of the spiral, but my eyes continue to scan the area. Five open stories tower above me, all uniform in design with shelves lining their spaces. Only one type of item occupies the mahogany shelves: Books. Hundreds of thousands of books. Millions of pages cloaked in dust and inspiration and wisdom.

  Once.
Twice. Three times I rotate, taking in the vast richness around me. Just when I think the Institute can’t surprise me I learn inside its stainless steel walls is the most incredible warmth of intelligence I could have imagined. A library. It looks to be modeled straight from the Library of Congress with its arches, marble columns, and vibrant murals blanketing the walls. This place is the antithesis of the modern design found everywhere else in the Institute. It’s perfect.

  Two sets of majestic staircases stand on either side of me, both zigzagging from level to level. Balconies stretch off each floor, with a view of the marble display under our feet. The immediate area is devoid of people, but in places like this anyone can hide in alcoves and behind shelves of books. One of the many reasons I love libraries. Everyone is lost and not wanting to be found in a library.

  I rush forward to the shelves, touching the first set of books I come to. They’re real under my fingertips. As real as flesh and dirt and water. Running my fingers along the shelf of books, I pace forward, sucking in the velvety dust immediately unleashed by my touch upon these unused volumes.

  “What do you think?” George asks in a hush a few feet behind me.

  That’s the most appropriate question I’ve ever heard him ask. Without turning to face him, I say, “I think this place is incredible.” Hungry to suck in everything, I scan, trying to delineate the different sections. Fiction is on the first floor. Does it just compose the first or could more volumes be housed on the second and third floor too? And still that leaves so many possibilities, all waiting to be explored. At once I long to know this place intimately, but then also relish the mystery and opportunity to discover each new volume when the time is right.

  Strolling footsteps snake me through the aisles. Fingertips still greet a row of books, welcoming them into my life. Anticipation builds in me until I realize I’m breezing through the aisles, laughing. It’s only once I’m deep within the catacombs of the first level that I double over, delirious with excitement. This library is majestically secretive and quiet and lonely. I love it.