by Sarah Noffke
“There’s no need for that,” Chase chimes. “I’ve released her.”
I turn to Pearl. “It’s true, he has. I’m fine.” She pushes her hair back behind her ear and squints.
I give Joseph a look and he seems to understand. He nods. Turning back I make note of Samara standing on one side of me, seeming to be on guard of the entrance where Chase had come from. Trent is on my other side and he’s mostly steady, although at times he kind of wavers a bit, still recovering from the hypnosis.
Chase motions with his good arm. “Won’t you join me over here for a private chat? We can resolve this all, I’m sure.”
A clairvoyant flash bursts across my vision: A different man stands before me. He’s spookily similar to Chase. His mannerisms. His teeth. His voice. But the man in my vision is tall, with black hair, pale skin, and electric blue eyes. His eyes pierce me, trying to cut from the inside out. The vision fades and I know exactly what I have to do.
At lightning speed I whip the sword out of Samara’s sheath and raise it in the air. The crippled man doesn’t run, flinch, or fight. The sword is heavy in my weakened arms. Still I drive it down cleanly, slicing the projection in two. It explodes into a cloud of dust and smoke. Incensed breaths pound my chest up and down. Not Chase. Just another trick.
Stunned expressions stare back at me from my team members. I shrug, at a loss for words. Flipping the sword around I hand it back to Samara, feeling a huge weight lifted when she takes it.
Clapping reverberates from the entrance. A sharp, steady sound. A figure enters, taking the same path that the crippled man had just taken. However, he glides across the space, his movements too graceful, too seamless. It’s the man from my vision and he’s no doubt the most attractive person I’ve ever laid eyes on. His jet black hair is smooth and pushed away from his intoxicatingly flawless face. Stark white skin makes his pink lips stand out more than any mouth I’d ever noticed. He floats closer, still clapping.
Unnerved by his perfection, I gasp. I can’t believe he elicits this response from me. Pausing a few feet from me, he drops his hands by his side. Unnaturally drawn to him, I take two steps closer. A smile curls from his mouth and he stares at me ravenously. I’m not afraid in this moment. I’m absolutely trembling inside, but it’s from the adrenaline produced when this man strode into the room.
Taking off to my left he makes a tight circle around me, like a wolf. Solid, straight-backed, I listen to each of his footsteps. “Congratulations, Roya.” It’s the same voice from the projection, but now it does something different to me. Undoes my restraints. Entices hedonism. “You,” he says, lingering on the word. “You resisted my hypnosis. You destroyed my illusion. You spotted my projection. And you control the wind. Ms. Stark, pardon me if this sounds forward, but I think you’re my soul mate.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chase completes a full circle around me. I remain frozen, completely petrified as he stares, and I can tell he’s restraining a smile. I don’t even blink when he leans down and whispers in my ear, “Together, you and I would be amazing.”
His voice penetrates a part of my core. There’s something really wrong about this situation. I figured my skin would be crawling right now, but it isn’t. Arousal prickles down my neck, unleashed by his whispered breath.
Chase’s eyes lift, evaluating the group behind me with a threatening glare. Like shaking off his last hypnosis, I force myself back from this weird place he’s sent me. Two steps backwards put me flush up against George. Joseph steps forward, directly on my right. His presence reassures me I’m not dreaming.
Now focusing solely on me, Chase snakes his electric blue eyes up and down my body. When he meets my eyes, he tilts his head, a lusciously satisfied expression on his face. “You obviously want to protect them,” he says, gracefully gesturing at the group. “How about I let them go? Hell, I’ll even release Aiden.” His lips purse seductively. “But I want to keep you.”
“How about,” I say, testing my voice, “you let Aiden go, let us all go, and I won’t kill you.” I’m bluffing. I don’t have a clue how to kill Chase. And strangely I don’t want to right now. The last thing I want to do is harm him.
He grabs his chest and pretends to look hurt. “Oh, Roya,” he says in a hushed voice. “Your threats disappoint me so. I was dearly hoping we could be more than just enemies.” His eyes pierce me like I saw in my vision, cutting open my essence. Damn it if he isn’t the most striking person who ever lived.
A scream shatters the air. High-pitched. Assaulting. Instantly I spin around to the source. Pearl stands, mouth open, blood curdling at her throat. Wide eyes stare at nothing. Horror rips through me as I try to compute what’s happening. The blood-drenched dagger slips from her hand as she drops to her knees and falls straight on her face. Samara stands directly behind her, a traumatized look of disbelief on her long face. Plunged into Pearl’s back is Samara’s silver sword.
The same scream as before bursts from Samara’s mouth. Gripping her cheeks in the oddest of ways she shakes her head erratically. “NO! NO! NO! NO!” she screams, staring at Pearl’s dead body. Samara makes to reach for her but then retreats, now on the brink of hyperventilating. “I didn’t…I…I…I…” A loud wail makes her lips tremble.
Poised and ready with my escrima stick in hand, I approach Samara, careful to keep Chase in my line of vision. “What happened?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
A torrent of tears floods her red cheeks. “I...I…I…I…” she says, only focusing on the blood oozing around the sword in Pearl’s back.
“Samara,” I say. “It’s okay. Tell us what happened.”
Her gray eyes flick to mine, confused, like she just realized I was here. Again her head shakes, like a dog’s after a bath, but with no joy. Whitish blonde hair tangles around her face when she lifts her chin and this time fastens her eyes on Joseph.
“Pearl,” she says to Joseph, her voice tattered from tears. “She was about to cut your throat. You have to believe me. You have to believe me.”
Joseph’s face couldn’t be any whiter, but his expression darkens.
“We believe you, Samara,” I say cautiously.
She nods her head, a strange confidence returning from my endorsement. “She was behind you, Joseph. I heard her think, cut his throat. I had to stop her.”
Pearl’s dead body lies face down on the ground, Allouette’s curved dagger a few inches from her fingers.
Oh God, this just got to a new level of sick.
Samara’s words are hysterical, a rush of emotion. “Him! It was him! He was never going to let her go. He was making her do it!” A long finger points directly at Chase. “It was your voice in her head, controlling her thoughts.”
A self-satisfied arrogance exudes from Chase’s eyes. The edges of his mouth twitch into a poised smile.
Joseph turns at once and puts his arms around Samara. She explodes into a fresh batch of tears, her chest convulsing from the explosive emotion.
“You,” I say, like it’s a disgusting word.
“Guilty as charged,” he coos, stepping closer to me.
With only a foot separating us I should be on the defensive against him. I’m disgusted, my stomach a raw pit of fury, but I don’t feel endangered. “Look at what you’ve done. An innocent girl is dead.” A throbbing veil of rage blankets my vision.
“Oh, but I’m not the one who killed her, am I?” he says wickedly.
Every fiber of my being says I should attack this psychopath. Overpower him using strength, then resume this mission. But I’m not yet ready to strike his chiseled face.
“How can you be so horrible? So evil?” My words sound strangely disappointed. “How can you stand yourself? How can you even stand to look in the mirror? You’re the devil!” My anger from before starts to build again and I half expect to feel the wind on my back.
Chase smiles broadly, showing elegantly sharp canines. “Looking in the mirror is quite enjoyable. And in case you’re wondering,
I sleep just fine too.” He reaches out and runs his hand along my cheek. His fingers are like ice. “You’re more than welcome to sleep beside me.”
Why don’t I move? Why don’t I take this close-range chance to attack him? Why can’t I move? I’m frozen. Again.
“It’s easy, Roya.” Chase drops his hand and leans in so he’s only an inch from my face. “No one else has to die.” His breath smells sweet. Too sweet. “Stay with me and your friends will be safe. I assure you.”
A bird’s wings beat overhead in a rush. Chase turns first to look, freeing me from his hypnosis. Diving through the air at me is an enormous bird. The crows are back. Not again! I grip my bracelet with my other hand, this time worried I’ll actually lose it. And then I’ll be lost forever, like Pearl.
Oddly, Chase’s eyes go wide, a look of alarm on his face. Isn’t that his bird? Scrambled footsteps send him backwards, nothing graceful in his movements now. The bird chirps, a high-pitched musical sound that’s almost inviting. Then it dives feet first like it’s about to pluck a fish out of the water. Through the morning sunshine I realize it doesn’t resemble a crow at all. And more importantly it isn’t diving at me. Its sharp talons aim for Chase’s dark hair. He throws up his arms, thrashing the bird away. The beating of the bird’s wings sends wind against my face. This is no ordinary animal. It’s huge. Majestic. Powerful flaps of its wings send it back in the air. Then it dives, this time beak first, going after Chase again.
Joseph grips my arm, pulling me tenaciously toward the exit. “Come on, sis, let’s get out of here.” A tentative glance over my shoulder. The bird of prey swoops down again, scratching wildly at the devastatingly gorgeous psychopath of a man. An urgent tug from Joseph propels me forward at a sprint, my feet splashing through puddles, leaving Pearl’s dead body behind.
The rest of the group is already at the exit, staring at me, bewildered. How long have they been here? How long was I entranced in the battle?
“Trent,” I say, my head clearing the farther I get from Chase. “Can you block this entrance?”
He nods his chin. “Sure, thing, hon.”
From the archway I watch a nearby boulder levitate off the ground. It’s roughly five feet in diameter. Easily weighs several tons. It soars through the air like it’s made of cotton rather than limestone. “I’d move out of the way,” Trent warns, stepping backwards as he directs the path of the boulder. With a crunching groan it fits like a perfect puzzle piece into the archway, shutting out the sunlight and leaving us bathed in darkness once more.
Firelight casts a daunting glow on everyone’s faces. I know they want to double over from emotional and physical exhaustion, but they stand staring at me, waiting for direction.
“Joseph, will you scout the area to ensure we’re safe here for now?”
“I’m on it,” he says, heading at once down the dark cave-way.
“The rest of you take a few minutes to rest. We’re going to have to keep moving soon.”
George slumps against a wall at once. I want to go to him, but Samara cuts me off.
“I didn’t want to be the one to do it. You know that, right?” she says, a pleading in her voice.
“I know,” I say.
“But she was so close to killing Joseph and I had no choice. And…and…and…Ren told us that we’d have to…that if Chase got inside someone that…”
“That they were gone for good,” I say, knowing she doesn’t want to say it. “I know once he was done using her that Pearl’s life would be over, that he’d kill her. But I kept thinking there was a way to save her.” A shaky breath spills out of my lips. “I wasn’t ready yet to accept Ren’s advice.” And it was only advice, not the only way to manage the situation. Because how could I accept that the only option left was to kill her ourselves? Without a direct threat how was I going to murder Pearl to save her the suffering Chase would cause? And what if it had been anyone else on my team? The idea of killing Joseph instantly coats my tongue with bile.
“So you think I did the right thing?” Samara asks, doubt in her voice.
“You did what had to be done. And you saved Joseph’s life. I can never express how grateful I am for that.”
“Neither can I,” Joseph says, taking the position beside me. A warm, silent exchange transpires between Samara and him before he turns. “All is clear for fifty yards.”
“Okay, thanks. Let’s move in one minute,” I say. Adrenaline still pounds through my veins, not allowing any real emotions to seep too deep. For now that’s keeping me alive, but soon everything is going to soak in and then…well, I’ll think about that later. “Does anybody have any clue where that bird came from?” I ask in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Osprey. That’s what that was,” Joseph says, a proud expression on his face. “You didn’t think you were the only one between us who had a spirit animal, did you?” He winks.
“What? That was you? You summoned that bird?”
“Well, I was pretty certain if something didn’t happen quickly then you were gonna become Frankenstein’s bride back there,” he says with a smirk.
Heat rises to my head. “Yeah, well, thanks.”
“Told ya you’d be glad you brought me along,” Joseph sings too loudly.
“Quiet down. And seriously, right now isn’t the time for gloating.” I push him aside so I can move closer to George. He’s still slumped against a wall, eyes closed.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m great. Feeling better actually,” he lies.
I put my hands on his cheeks and rest them there for a second. He’s burning up, but I can’t be sure that this isn’t because he’s just witnessed a brutal murder and the acts of a psychopath. As we have so many times before, we communicate through nonverbal ways. Me reading his eyes. Him reading my emotions. It only lasts a moment, but it’s enough.
Turning back to the group I say, “All right, let’s move. Joseph and I are going to take the front. George, you’re in the middle. Trent and Samara bring up the rear.” Everyone gives a silent nod.
Similar to the first cave-way, this one is lined with torches every ten feet. This prevents me from ramming my head on low-hanging arches. The only thing I hear, besides our footsteps, is a quieter version of the awful screeching noise I heard when we first arrived. It isn’t like nails on a chalkboard; it’s like metal scraping metal.
If the map is correct then one of the next set of rooms is the most likely place Aiden is being held. The problem is there are now doors every few feet. We’ve already passed a dozen. Each one I come to fills me with anticipation and anxiety. Each shuffle of footsteps makes me jerk, thinking Allouette is going to spring out and assault us. I should be vigilant, but the apprehension is doing my adrenal gland no good at this point. And still I worry that when we reach Aiden I’ll be unable to help him. Ren thinks that most obstacles to Aiden will be Voyageurs. But what if he’s wrong? What if he’s behind a locked door I can’t enter? What if there’s something chaining him to the Grotte and I can’t rescue him? Will this all be for nothing?
Joseph and I move several yards before I realize the team is not behind us. I freeze. Pivot. And spy George immobile, staring at a door. A few quick strides bring me back to him. “He’s in there,” he says, pointing at the door, not taking his eyes off it.
His words hollow out my chest. “Are you sure?”
He’s already nodding before I finish my question. “Yes.” George looks at me and gives a wounded smile although I know he’s in a lot of pain. Why is he smiling? Because it’s over for him? Because we found Aiden?
“George, I need you to be sure because before we enter that room I’m sending you back. You need medical attention now. If Aiden isn’t in there then we’re lost without you. So are you certain this is the right room?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Unless there’s another prisoner here who’s starving, scared, and tortured.”
A raw ache attacks my core, gnawing at it, seeking substance which I can’t g
ive.
“I’m sorry, I—” George says through a measured breath, clutching his side.
“Don’t be,” I cut him off. “It’s all right. We’re here now.”
“He’s fine, Roya,” George says in a half-heartbroken voice. “And yes, it’s him. I’m sure of it.” Reluctance I’ve seen too many times in his eyes surfaces. “His passion, even under these circumstances, is distinct. Through that door lies Dr. Livingston.”
I should be relieved, but something real feels about to end, and with it another beginning is sprouting. Still, I’m not ready to move forward, but backwards was never an option. Swallowing down my fear, I nod.
“Thanks. Now it’s time for you to go home,” I say, and for the first time all day I feel a little relief. To know George is safe gives me comfort. Now I just need to make it happen. I’m careful not to touch any of his wounds as I place both hands on either side of his face, directing his attention at nothing but me. “Return to the Institute and have Mae fix you, because I need you whole. Okay?” I look at him for a long moment. He doesn’t waver.
“Okay,” is all he says, pain a precursor and punctuation to his word. His weight slips to the floor. Trent helps me lower him to the ground. He’s so much weaker now that he’s quit pretending. It makes my insides burn with disgust. I’ll kill Allouette if I see her again.
I cradle George’s head in my lap. The cold stone floor is hard and sharp under my legs. “I’ll stay here until you generate your body,” I say, brushing hair out of his face.
He squeezes my hand. “Thanks. And Roya, get out of here soon. I need you whole too.”
“I won’t keep you waiting long,” I say and kiss his brow.
A smile greets his lips before his eyes close. For this night only the security measures requiring bodies to be submerged in water to dream travel to the Institute have been suspended. My hands hold his head for less than a minute when the minuscule sparks begin flecking away from his body at an increasing rate. The sight is perfectly poetic. Second by second it increases until his body is only a few sparks that are soon whisked away into darkness. My heart falters between beaming and sinking. Now my hands hold nothing. George is gone.